The sky is as bright as mid-July, warming the campus' damp grass. Jerome follows Judith toward the burgundy and black booth near the road's edge, security written on the side, and an overweight brown-toned man sitting inside.

Judith's dressed in his white t-shirt, grey sweatpants, and an old pair of his sneakers. Her heart is pounding in her ears, and her lungs struggle to hold onto the air.

"I don't think I can do this," she says, then stops halfway across the quad. Jerome comes to a halt, then turns to face her.

He takes her shoulders in his hands and says, with a smile, "Judy, I'll be there for you the whole time. It'll be fine."

She nods her head and takes a shaky breath, her irises on the man in uniform. He takes her hand in his and, without realizing it, steals her attention. Jerome leads Judith to the security guard, and the warmth of his palm against hers calms her.

"Mr. Laurence," Jerome calls out, turning his head to face them. Judith also looks at him. He's clothed in a burgundy and black suit with a red panda printed on the front. She looks at the tag stitched to his chest. Pete is his name.

"What's good, young blood," Pete asks, then glances at their hands. Jerome looks down at Judith, expecting her to explain her problem, but her throat is dry. She lowers her head, brings her lips inward, and licks them.

"Judy, tell him," Jerome mumbles, and she casts a sidelong glance at him.

"I can't," she tells him, and as she stares at the shoes on her feet, Jerome looks at Pete Laurence, who's watching them with his brows raised.

"Guys on campus are sexually harassing her, and we're here to report it." Pete sighs and wraps his half-finished sub in the green and white paper that came with it. Jerome and Judy exchange glances as he lifts his white and brown paper cup to his lips, his dark brown irises fixed on the tempered glass above his desk.

"Do you need me to escort you to the Dean's office, or can you make it on your own," he asks without looking at them, and Jerome squints in disbelief.

"We got it." When the campus officer nods, Judith looks at Jerome, who leads her away from the booth. They gradually ascend the hill, and he takes a deep breath from annoyance.

"What's wrong," she asks, and he shakes his head, then scoffs.

"That lazy, sorry excuse for a cop couldn't pull himself from his food to help at all," he explains, and she lowers her attention to the grass in front of them. "I'd hate to imagine how he'd react if a brawl went down by the dorms or someone had a knife."

"Don't sweat it, 'Rome." He looks at her, and she smiles at him though he doesn't do the same.

"Can you not call me that?" Judith furrows her eyebrows at his question, and she puckers her lips to ask why, but he continues, "My friends call me that because I hated Big 'Rome, which was another annoying nickname they made for me."

"I get it. My parents used to call me Jude in public, and most people who know of the Beatles would sing their song to me." Jerome cracks a smile. "I'm sorry for calling you that. Can I give you a nickname, though?"

"Um." He takes the door handle in his right hand and pulls it open. She walks into the entryway, trailed by him. "I mean, yeah, you can give me a nickname. Just not those two options."

They stand in the main building's lobby, and as Jerome scans the area, she stares in horror at the stairs that she couldn't climb.

"This was a mistake," she says quietly, and he looks at her confusedly. She's shivering and shaking her head as if she's cold. "I think I just want to wait for my brother-in-law outside. What happened, happened, and I can't change it."

He takes her hand before she can turn away, and he guides her toward the front desk. A chestnut-colored woman with textured hair in a french braid is standing behind the counter, looking at them. "Excuse me, my friend is being bullied, and she needs to speak to the Dean."

"Jerome," she mumbles, and he ignores her. The secretary glances at her, then at him, and she points to the stairs to her left. They turn their heads to follow her finger.

"Go upstairs, and when you reach a statue, you'll see his door; you can't miss it," she instructs him and returns her arm to her side. She watches him tug Judith towards the flight of stairs.

He ascends the first step, but she doesn't budge, so he veers his head to look at her.

"Judy, what're you doing," he asks, and she shakes her head, lowering her sorrowful gaze. He draws his brows in confusedly then takes a step next to her. "What's wrong?"

"I can't walk up these stairs, Jerome." She darts her teary eyes onto his, and his gaze softens. "There's a lot about me that you don't know - and I may never tell you, but what I'm telling you now is that I can't do it."

"What's wrong with the stairs?" He releases her hand and folds his arms under the burgundy school name.

She opens her mouth to speak, but the words won't form. Her irises glaze onto Jerome's fingers, and he turns his head to meet her gaze.

"My ex - I don't know. I guess I have shell shock from that relationship." She chuckles dryly, but he doesn't find it amusing. Judith sits on the first step, and he sits on the second, his attention on her. With her forearms against her knees, she stares at her nails. "If I tell you something about me, will you keep it between us?"

"Yeah," he mutters, and she takes a deep breath, then wipes away her falling tears.

"Last year, around Christmas, I tried to kill myself." Judith looks at Jerome and notices his eyes briefly widen as her father's did. She pulls her dry lips in and licks them. "I was so sad, and scared, and hurt by everything that I couldn't take it anymore, and I just - took a bunch of pills. I feel like an asshole every time I see my brother because he was the one who found me, but he doesn't know what I tried to do."

"Why'd you do it?" She shrugs and chuckles sadly.

"Because David took my virginity." He narrows his eyes and scratches the back of his head. "It's - a long story."

"I'm still not understanding what the stairs have to do with all of that," he tells her, and they look at each other.

"Excuse me." They look ahead, and Mary is standing in front of them with her purse over her shoulder. She's wearing dark jeans, a violet crop top, and mahogany clogs. Her hair is styled with two thin braids on the sides of her face, and the rest is falling flat behind her.

Jerome and Judy slide to their respective rails, clearing a path for her. They watch her climb the flight of stairs before returning their attention to each other and closing the gap.

"We can talk about it some other time. Let's just get this over with." They rise to their feet, and after a shaky breath, she stands beside him on the second step. Judith takes his left arm in hers, and her dainty hands grapple his long sleeve.

He feels her heart pounding through the layers of fabric shielding his skin, and he walks her up the next set of steps at a slow pace. Her breathing is ragged, and she blinks excessively to fight off the memories wanting to appear before her.

"Thank you," she tells him though her voice is unsteady, and they reach the second floor.

"You're welcome, Judy," he softly replies, and she cracks a smile at the suaveness of his tone. They turn left and continue down the hall, following Mary, who's almost out of their line of sight. Judith squints and watches her power walk.

They reach the desolate corridor with the statue and portraits, but Mary has already reached his tall chestnut doors. Judith feels her palms moisten and phantom sweat digs at the back of her neck. She takes shallow breaths as they near closer, and they watch Mary open the left door, peeking her head in. After a moment, she steps through the frame.

"We might have to wait out here," he tells her, and they step against the right wall, close to the doors. She sits with him, her arms tight around his then they cross their legs. He looks at her, the corners of his mouth twitching as he fights back a smile. "You can let go now."

"Oh, sorry." Jerome watches her straighten her posture, resting her hands on her lap. She takes a deep breath as she stares ahead.

"Are you okay? You look - pale." She looks at him as he scans her face, then her limbs. "And thinner than usual. When did you last eat something?"

"Stop. I'm fine," Judy tells him, but he doesn't believe her. He briefly narrows his eyes as if he's trying to read her, and she lowers her attention to her shoes. She snickers at how big they are on her. "I look like Bozo the clown with these on."

"Hey," he jokingly exclaims and gently nudges her with his elbow. "Those were my go-to pair last year. Ask Eric, and he'll tell you that I wore those so much that my classmates thought they were all I had. Because of that, I have so many pairs of shoes from random people that I could fill a bodega."

"Really? That's so cool, but like, why would they just hand you shoes," she asks. "No disrespect, but you kind of fly below the radar. I didn't know you were in a frat until Mary told me."

"Then you're not as observant as other people because I'm always hanging in the student lounge and around the quads if I'm not in my room." She nods her head when an assumption comes to mind.

He's probably a jock.

"I don't live on campus, so that explains it." He nods his head with his lips drawn into a straight line. "Are you on any sports team, though?"

"Yeah, no, I'm not a fan of being someone's meat shield." They chuckle. "Plus, I'm not sporty. How about you?"

"I tried out for cheerleading, but they didn't accept me, then I tried tennis, and they told me no. Track was a different story: I pretty much learned that running isn't my thing," she explains.

"Wait, so why weren't you accepted?" He creases the skin above his nose bridge. She scoffs incredulously with a smile of disbelief.

"Because I'm Black. I didn't give no never mind about cheerleading, but tennis was important to me." She looks down at her hands, her expression shifting to sadness. "My parents and I used to play when I was in middle school. I must've been twelve and no shorter than I am now, and I remember them letting me win and taking me to get ice cream after. Things were simpler back then."

"You can always go for ice cream or whatever with them, right?" She raises her irises and stares at the wall across the floor. She hadn't told him about her father's passing because a part of her wished that it wasn't true. "My parents have been divorced for years, so that's out of the question for me; plus, I'm too old for kiddie stuff like that."

They hear a click and turn their heads to their right. A tall white man with a beer belly, a full head of grey, and a Vandyke beard is holding the door open for Mary, who's teary-eyed and red-faced. He's wearing a burgundy and black suit jacket that's buttoned shut and dark grey slacks. He watches Mary depart with a solemn gleam, then when he looks at Judith and Jerome, his expression sinks.

"Are you two waiting to see me, or are you loitering," he asks. Jerome and Judith exchange a glance before rising to their feet. He tucks his hands into his pockets while she wraps her arms around her torso, her gaze fixed on the Dean's suede shoes.

"I need to speak to you. He brought me because - I didn't think I could come alone," she explains, and he takes a step to the side to clear a path for her. Judith looks at Jerome for support, and when he nods approvingly, she steps into Dean O'Connell's office.