CHAPTER THREE

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2021

          I had to do something about the Marco situation.

          As much as I loved Ingrid and Savannah, I feared their gossipy tendencies. I wasn't that much better than them, not after three—nearly four—years at this university and didn't see myself as a goddamn saint, but we'd gotten in trouble over it before. Therefore, I had to handle Marco and my lie before they decided to take matters into their own hands and ruin everything; they could easily spread the word around, which would quickly reach his ears, and he'd expose me for the liar that I was.

          I had never meant for any of this to happen. How in the world had I gotten myself into such a mess, when all I ever wanted was Chase Steele?

          Chase Steele. PhD.

          The words from that very first lecture drilled into my skull, ricocheting off the walls of my brain, back when I didn't know what loving Chase Steele would entail. I should have listened to him—you need to stay away from me, Penelope. We need to stay away from each other. I could lose my job. You could be kicked out of school—but I'd always been known for being stubborn and refused to let go of the only person who had ever looked at me like I mattered.

          I didn't even know what to tell him. I didn't even know what to tell Marco.

          "Where's your head?" Chase questioned, as I finished putting on my sweater. Now that he was no longer touching me, the cold air of his bedroom had bit deep into my skin and I felt like I was standing in the middle of a blizzard. "You're somewhere far away. I can't seem to reach you."

          Two weeks had passed since he remembered I existed. We'd moved from his office back to his apartment, a change I gratefully welcomed, and I almost fooled myself into thinking we were slowly falling back into our old normal.

          I sighed. "Nothing. I've just had a lot on my mind lately."

          October was slowly coming to a close and I still hadn't declared an advisor. My parents had been pressuring me all week, reminding me that wasn't a decision I should make lightly, and I was desperate to give them a concrete answer, but it wasn't like I could explain what was going on.

          They knew about Chase, they knew he existed, but they were, hopefully, clueless about the true nature of our relationship and my feelings for him. Whenever I spoke about him, I tried to be as neutral as possible, keeping a cool distance, treating him like any other professor. There was always an involuntary affectionate sweetness to my voice whenever I mentioned him—Professor Steele, never Chase—and painted the most beautiful portrait of him at the dining table. They liked him, mostly thanks to Stephen Delaroux, who often called him one of the finest, most brilliant students he'd ever had.

          I lived for Stephen's stories, closer glimpses of Chase's life before we'd met. It was heartwarming to imagine him, fresh-faced and starry-eyed, fascinated by film and being taken under the wing of who would become his mentor later on. Then, years later, he'd share that same knowledge with me—he'd share his heart, his body, his soul.

          Somewhere along the way, things had changed. I could feel his distance now more than ever.

          "Have you made a decision yet?" I dared to ask. "About being my advisor?"

          He let out a deep sigh. "You know it's complicated. People will get suspicious."

          "Why?" I turned to face him. "Wouldn't people get suspicious if I chose Professor Bass to be my advisor? It'd be long hours of me spending time in his office"—his eyes briefly narrowed—"and it's not like I have the best of reputations in this place as is. Everyone thinks I only got to where I am because of my parents."

          "Your brain is like no other, Penn. You know that." I looked away, shivering when his fingers brushed against my cheekbone as he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "Any professor would be lucky to have you as a protegé."

          "I don't want any professor. I want you."

          "This could cost me my job—"

          "Not having an advisor can and will cost me my degree. No one has ever suspected anything until now and, considering Stephen Delaroux stops by my parents' house for dinner every week, it'll be suspicious in the community if you don't, at least, give it a shot." I inched closer to him, fearing I was walking on glass, and any sudden moves would mean the end of us. I lived in a nearly permanent state of anxiety, worry, and panic; what if one moment was the last one? "Chase, please. I need this. I can't not have an advisor—"

          "And I can't not have a job, Penelope!" He sprung up from the bed, slipping right out of my fingers, and a fist tightened around my heart. Even when I tried reaching out for him, just a breath of him, he was an entire world away, walls raised high, and I couldn't tear them down. "I can't have my entire life destroyed over a scandal—"

          "I'm not trying to ruin your life!"

          "Well, it sure feels like it! It's an advisor position, Penelope; it's not the end of the world." I didn't want to look at him with tears in my eyes, following the promise I'd made to myself to always, always be stronger than that, and I also didn't want to remind him he had promised me forever. He had promised me so many things, he had promised me all of him, yet it felt like all I was getting were crumbs. "If we're seen, if we slip up—"

          "It's been three years. We haven't done anything wrong—"

          I felt nothing but pathetic. We were both standing up, me in my underwear, him with his pants still on, both begging. I begged him to let me in, he begged me to stay away, stay out, keep him out of harm's way, let him keep me safe.

          I was not scared. I'd never been afraid of him, but I dreaded the mere idea of ruining him. I hated that I had to beg, even after three whole years, for the slightest bit of reciprocity in fields where we should be equals. He'd tried to lecture me so many times, told me about how there was a power and status imbalance between us because of the position he occupied, because I was just a student, because he was so much older, because he should be wiser than this, yet I'd never listened. I still didn't.

          I'd been the one to push him past the breaking point. Anything bad that happened would be on me, regardless of how much he insisted that the system was meant to protect me. That just placed him in danger, risking disciplinary action and the loss of an entire career, and just emphasized how much weaker I was within the four walls of that university. Even outside, I was not allowed to reach out for his hand.

          "Accept other students," I proposed. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he gulped and I took that window of opportunity to circle around the bed and walk up to him. "I know you still haven't answered anyone, so I'm not the only one waiting for an answer. Take a few of them, and take me. Don't take Savannah. She only asked you to be her advisor because she wants to sleep with you."

          To my surprise, one of the corners of his mouth tentatively rose up into a smirk. "How unfortunate for her."

          My heart was suddenly lighter.

          I didn't like to have to throw Savannah under the bus just to make him feel better—after all, it wasn't like she had done anything wrong and I was just being a hypocrite, since I was the one sleeping with him—but I knew I had to be wary. Innocent jokes could be just that or be filled with hidden double meanings.

          "I wouldn't do anything to jeopardize your career," I said. "You know that."

          "We'll have to be extra careful. We can't—"

          "—give anyone any reasons to suspect there's anything else going on." I reached out for my cashmere blouse. "I get that. I'll behave."

          "I'd rather if you didn't." His thumb swept across my bottom lip and I instantly lost my train of thought, just like that. "I much prefer seeing you just . . . let go. However, in this case . . . it couldn't hurt. I'll reply to the emails."

          "Okay." I finished buttoning up my jeans, glad I'd brought a change of clothes. "See you in class, Professor."

          He pulled me in for a kiss, my face cupped between his strong hands, then I was gone. Just like that.

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          I'd become a master at sneaking out of places where I shouldn't be found.

          I'd never been much of a fan of sneaking out when I was a teenager, mostly because I didn't have anywhere to go and I couldn't risk leaving a dirty spot on my parents' pristine reputation over my secret, rebellious endeavours, but it was something I'd learned to perfect throughout the years. After three years of dodging curious eyes and learning all about secret corners, sometimes I felt like a secret agent.

          I always exited the apartment building through the fire escape. Barely anyone used it—most of the residents used their retirement money to afford such a place and had bones that were thankful for the elevators—and I had long legs that allowed me to run quicker. The fire escape led me to the back of the building, framed by rows of tall trees I could use to conceal myself, and I knew Chase was watching from his balcony to make sure I got to the main street safe and sound.

          My car wasn't parked nearby and, as I crossed the streets, hood over my head to block me from sight, I dreaded the moment when I stepped inside the vehicle. My brain switched to autopilot mode as soon as I started the car and I forced myself to keep my thoughts blank on the ride back to campus.

          As soon as I stepped out, it would all be over.

          Reality began to sink in, a clear sign that I was on my own now, and Chase wouldn't be there to wrap an arm around me or even shoot the quickest of winks my way. I felt unbearably lonely, sitting in the silence and solitude of my Porsche, so spacious and so hard to fill. Parting ways after one of our meetings was always hard, a clear reminder I'd never really get to have him—all of him—while still being restrained by the people around me and all those vultures.

          People stared at me in the parking lot, probably because I looked on the verge of tears, still upset over the argument from earlier that morning, and they didn't know how to deal with other people's emotions. I couldn't blame them, though; I wasn't sure how to handle myself, either. All of them stared, all of them paid attention, and I supposed that should help me feel warmer, remembering how it felt like to have someone looking out for me, but it just made me want to run away and never be found again.

          I exhaled. Then, I got out of the car and made my way towards the lecture hall.

          On my way, I pulled out my phone and opened Ingrid's Instagram, ready to stalk Marco online. She was, as she loved to remind everyone, a social butterfly. She knew everyone on campus and everyone knew her, so it was safe to assume at least one of them followed the other on social media.

          Though he was certainly, objectively attractive, he was far from being my type. He reminded me way too much of myself, down to the olive-toned skin and bone structure, and I didn't want to hear jokes about how I was so self-obsessed I'd resorted to dating my clone. I obsessively scrolled down his Instagram feed, searching for photos from his summer in Madrid, and kept a close eye on the background. I wanted so bad to not be in any of those photos, not even a blurry mess on the streets.

          "Hey, Penny," Savannah greeted, inside the hall. Guilt struck me right across the chest as I looked at her, so cheerful and hopeful, and I was going to be the one behind her misery. Even if she wanted Chase for all the wrong reasons, was I that much better than her? Did I want him as my advisor based on his professional knowledge or was I just using that as an excuse to spend extra time with him?

          "Hi," I greeted, one second too late for it to be considered normal, and it immediately raised a red flag.

          "You okay? You look kind of shaken up."

          Everything inside me threatened to shatter. It wasn't like I could explain what was really going on and, even if I could, she wouldn't understand. None of them would understand.

          "I got yelled at in traffic, that's all. I really don't want it to get back to my parents, or something like that."

          "Oh, do people still recognize you? I thought you were . . . distancing yourself."

          I shrugged. "Sometimes. Let's just hope this wasn't the case."

          Chase walked in. Savannah immediately straightened, throwing her braids over her shoulder, and I took my time. If I were to look up and lock eyes with him, I'd be reminded of everything that happened before I left his apartment, and not just the argument.

          Everything. His hands all over me, his lips on mine, his teeth on my neck.

          They could never, never know.

          "Before we begin, I'd just like to make an announcement," he said, taking off his tweed jacket. I leaned back in my chair, crossed my legs, pretended to be nonchalant and to have no idea what he was talking about. His eyes darted around the room, icy until they found me, and the corner of his mouth briefly twitched. I swallowed, feeling like all the oxygen had been sucked out of my lungs. "I know some of you have placed a request to declare me as your advisor, but, as you're aware, I'm only allowed to take five students per year. I've taken some time to consider each and every single one of you and I've made my decision. If you weren't chosen, please don't feel discouraged, as this doesn't mean it's the end; there are plenty of talented, hardworking professors who'd be happy to take you in. Though I'm still not sure why you'd all go for me, to be perfectly honest." He let out a nervous laugh and we laughed along with him. That was just how he was—he pulled people in so easily. "The Steele 5 are . . ."

          He said my name in third place. The middle spot, easily looked over, easily forgotten.

          Next to me, Savannah looked absolutely shattered.

          All the color had drained from her face as she sucked in shaky breaths in an attempt to stay calm. She wasn't the only one; by how people were reacting, it looked as though he'd just delivered the most heartbreaking news anyone could have possibly gotten.

          I didn't want to think about how I would look if he hadn't chosen me. I'd had my fair share of sobbing sessions in the bathroom, in my bedroom, even in my car while I was obsessing over the possibility of not being chosen, of being tossed aside like I meant nothing, and knew just how desperate and pitiful I looked, eyes all red and swollen.

          "Uh . . ." Chase blabbered, glancing at me in panic, as if I knew how to fix this. "Okay, I guess I . . . well. I'll give you all a few minutes to cool off. It's fine. Please remember that counseling offices are open, in case you need someone to talk to . . ."

          Sighing, I turned to Savannah.

          "Sav," I said. "I'm sorry. You must be really upset."

          "You think?" she snapped. I removed my hand from her arm as if she'd burned me. "Ah, I'm sorry. That was mean. I'm—I'll be fine. It's fine. It's just . . . I work so hard, you know? I've been busting my ass since freshman year, and this was the one thing I wanted. It got taken away"—she snapped her fingers—"in the blink of an eye. How is that fair?"

          I knew how hard she had worked, and I knew just how unfair things were. I had the added advantages of being Penelope Romero and sleeping with our professor, regardless of how hard I had worked, and not everything I'd accomplished had come out of pure merit. Savannah, on the other hand, had her head in the right place, and I felt disgusting for having plucked that spot out of her hands.

          I didn't like where my mind was taking me. Savannah was my friend, had been since freshman year, yet I hadn't even hesitated before being a horrible friend back to her in more ways than just one. It was bigger than just me and Chase.

          "You're brilliant, okay?" I insisted, despite knowing it wouldn't be of much help. I was already being an abhorrent friend and an even worse person, even if she didn't know the extent of it or couldn't read my mind. "I know I would be knocking down doors to be your advisor."

          "Don't worry about me." She gently patted my hand. "I'll get back on top. I always do. Thanks for looking out for me, Penny." Sav threw me a weak smile. "You're a good friend. That means a lot to me."

          The smile I replied with was even frailer. "Don't mention it."

          I refused to look at Chase during the remainder of the lecture.

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i'll have you know that i've been rewatching pretty little liars just for the sake of this book and it's literally hell on earth. in case you didn't know, i'm 100% against aria x ezra (and have always been partial to noel kahn because of the books, even though the show ruined his character just to give ezra a redemption arc for whatever reason . . .), much like i am 100% against penn x chase but i've never been in a relationship with a professor so i need information lol

the only reason why this took so long was because i had to prepare for my thesis presentation. now that i actually finished my degree and have nothing better to do, expect regular updates of virtually everything (except for half empty because that's a long ass book to edit)