Page 144 of My Brother’s Best Friends Entanglement

I go.

And somehow, I manage not to look back even once.

FORTY-ONE

Alexia

If I thought Rhys punching Craig at the picnic was a low point, I'm about to be sorely mistaken.

I get to campus early two days after the picnic. Leon's back in the ward, recovering. I've been staying at Aria's beach house, and while I haven't had to worry about avoiding the guys, I've had plenty of quiet to worry about what's waiting for me at work.

The department's quiet at this hour, just the cleaners and a few PhD stragglers who never really left the library the night before, and for about twenty minutes I let myself believe today might just be an ordinary day. Assignments to hand back. Concepts to teach.

Then I see the group gathered outside the tutorial room, and the way they all stop talking the second they clock me coming down the corridor spells something very not good.

Craig's already inside when I open the door, arms crossed, standing a little too close to Professor Pollack's shoulder, and something about the set of his jaw tells me he's had all weekend to rehearse for this.

“I'm not co-teaching with her.” He says it to Professor Pollack, not even acknowledging I'm in the room except for that. “Not until this is sorted. She's been telling half the department she was instrumental in my research. Now she wants joint credit on it. That's not just a colleague dispute, that's theft.”

“That's not what happened.” My voice comes out steadier than I feel. “I never said any of that!”

“Funny, because three separate people have come to me with the same story.”

“Then those three people are lying, or misquoting me, or—” I know I shouldn't say this, but fuck it. “They don't even exist.” Yup. I said it. “Craig, this is insane. All I ever asked for was to be able to list you as a reference. That's it.”

He sniffs. “That's not how I remember it.”

“Then your memory's rewritten itself very conveniently. Wouldn't be the first time, would it?”

His jaw tightens. Something ugly flickers behind his eyes before he smooths it back into wounded professionalism. “This isn't about that.”

“Isn't it?”

“Alexia.” Pollack's voice cuts across both of us, all semblance of the understanding mentor gone. “This is exactly the kind of exchange I need you both to not have in front of me. It only makes things look worse.”

I throw my hands in the air. “Worse than what, Professor? I genuinely haven't done anything.”

He sighs, looking tired. “That's what the review is for. I need you to understand, this complaint isn't nothing. I have to take it seriously.”

“Do you believe him, sir?” I can hear my own voice starting to shake. “I know you have to go through with the review, but, do you believe I would do this?”

His shoulders drop and he looks away. “I can't answer that.”

I sigh, bitter disappointment coating my tongue. “You didn't have to.”

Craig, behind him, has the audacity to actually smile.

“This is a serious accusation, Alexia.” Pollack doesn't quite meet my eyes either, and that scares me more than Craig's face does. “I need to look into it properly.”

I don't get the chance to say anything else, because that's when my phone buzzes, a text from Graham, from the fellowship applications office.

Heads up, someone's sent an anonymous email about you. Also something about “conduct unbecoming.” It's being investigated. I'm sorry. It doesn't look good. Thought you should hear it from me first.

I read it twice. Then a third time, waiting for the words to rearrange themselves into something less catastrophic. They don't.

“Professor Pollack.” My mouth's gone dry. “Do you know anything about someone sending an anonymous report about me to the fellowship's applications office?”

His expression shifts, and I know before he says a word — this conversation with Craig was only ever the first half of what he'd called me in for.