Easy

4:30.”
    “You’d better scoot. I’m heading to work as soon as I finish this thing. Text me and let me know if I need to kick anyone’s ass. Don’t forget—tomorrow we’re getting dresses for the Bash this weekend.”
    My roommate’s ability to change subjects rapidly was legendary. “I remember.”

    ***
    Dr. Heller regarded me from the opposite side of his desk for the second time this semester, and I struggled not to squirm in the chair. I’d never been a kid who earned teachers’ disapproval; finding myself in this position twice in a matter of weeks was unbelievable.
    He’d not looked at me since inviting me to have a seat. Rifling through a stack of folders and papers, he pulled out my research paper with a muttered, “Ah-ha.”
    My hands clenched in my lap as he perused it, skimming through the stapled pages. I wondered if he’d already written a grade on it, or if what I said or didn’t say in the coming minutes would influence it.
    He cleared his throat and I flinched. “I’ve spoken with Mr. Maxfield, which I assume you know.”
    I took a nervous breath. “No, sir. We haven’t spoken.”
    His eyebrows rose, eyes widening. “I see.” He frowned as though he was confused. “Well. I’ll ask you what I asked him, and I would appreciate your honesty, please. Did he assist you in producing this paper?”
    I returned his perplexed frown, unsure what, exactly, he was asking. “He gave me some leads on research sources. And he read the completed paper and pointed out a few errors I needed to correct before turning it in. But the work is mine.”
    He nodded and sighed. “All right. There’s also a matter of a quiz you may have been given some… let’s say notice of… ahead of the other students?”
    I swallowed. “He suggested that I do the worksheet he’d sent.” Dr. Heller examined me with a direct look and one raised, bushy eyebrow, and I amended, “He suggested very strongly that I do it. But he never told me there was going to be a quiz, and frankly, I just thought he was being bossy—I didn’t even pick up on any hint—” Shit .
    “He’s taken complete responsibility for his error in judgment, Ms. Wallace.”
    I couldn’t breathe, my thoughts rioting. From the first moment I saw him—facing Buck in that parking lot after, I can only assume, pulling him off me—he’d been protecting me. Was he in danger of being fired from his job because of our relationship, whatever it had been?
    I moved closer, my hand on the desk. “Lucas didn’t—he didn’t take advantage of me in any way. He was very helpful as a tutor. I have another class during his group sessions, so I couldn’t attend them, but he emailed the worksheets to me.” Breathless, I stopped, not wanting to make this worse than it already was. I couldn’t resemble some infatuated girl or my declarations wouldn’t carry any weight at all. “He shouldn’t be in trouble because of me.”
    My professor stared at my paper, still in his hands. If anything, he looked more concerned than he had moments ago. Forehead creased, he raised his eyes and stared at me a moment. “He also says that you weren’t aware of the fact that the boy you were… seeing… was your tutor. That your academic relationship was carried out through email only.”
    I nodded, unwilling to contradict anything Lucas said.
    He sighed again, sitting back in thought, one hand covering his mouth. Finally, he slid the paper across the desk to me. “Your research and the conclusions reached were impressive for an undergrad. Good job, Ms. Wallace. If you do well on the final, your grade in the course shouldn’t suffer from the, um, emotional upheavals you faced mid-semester. A word of advice, though. This won’t be the last time you have to deal with something in life that throws you off your game. In future courses, as well as in the real world—such as it is—professors and employers won’t always be accommodating. We all have to—what’s my daughter’s terminology—suck it up and deal?”
    I resisted flipping to the last page to check my grade. “Yes, sir.” I knew I should stand up, thank him, and scramble out of his office while I was still on his good side. I couldn’t do it. “And Lucas? Is he in trouble? Will he… will he lose his job?”
    He shook his head. “There doesn’t appear to have been any real harm done, although I’ve reminded Landon—er, Lucas—that sometimes, how a situation is perceived carries more