The Ivy League by Ruby Parker

a smirk, “I can’t keep my fiancé waiting.”
    Krista ’s chest was too tight to breath.  A fiancé.  He was going to be married.  She couldn’t stomach the thought of it.  She had to know who it was, who could possibly be a better match for him than she was. 
    She gathered herself and left the apartment building that had become her regular meeting place with Dan.  She waited around the corner for him to leave, and followed him to a small café, not far down the street, where he greeted his fiancé with a hug and chaste kiss.
    Recognition hit her immediately, but her brain refused to acknowledge it right away.  This couldn’t be right.  She was all wrong for him.  She could never give him the pleasure that Krista could.  She was betrayed, but she knew how to make things right.
     

Chapter Twenty Seven
     
     
    Sara fiddled with the edge of her shirt as she waited in the Dean’s office.  She had received an email telling her to report to his office immediately.  The secretary glanced up and offered Sara a smile.  Perhaps she was trying to calm the obvious anxiety that showed on Sara’s face.  She had never been called to the dean’s office before, but she likened the feeling to being called to the principles office in high school.  It was almost never a good thing.  She worried it may have something to do with her current failing grade in Banks’ class.  She mentally prepared an argument.  It’s not like she was failing any other classes.  And there was still plenty of time to pull her grade back up, that is, if she stop sleeping with the professor. 
    The phone on the front desk buzzed and the secretary picked it up.  She set the handset right back and looked up at Sara with another polite smile.
    “He’ll see you now,” she said, motioning to the door just beside her desk.  “You can go in.”
    Sara took a deep breath to calm herself as she made her way over to the door of the dean’s office.  The seconds ticked slowly by.  Sara had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. 
    “Ms. Weiss,” the Dean said, as she opened the door, “come in.”
    He gestured for her to sit at one of the two chairs opposite his desk.  The tone of his voice made the sick feeling in her stomach intensify.  He did not look like a happy man.  He placed his elbows on the desk, interlocking his fingers as he studied Sara while she took a seat.
    “Do you know why you are here , Ms. Weiss?” he said.  He glared at her from beneath thin wire glasses, heavy wrinkles marring his aged forehead.
    “No, sir,” Sara said, with a s oft shake of her head. 
    “This is a very prestigious school , Ms. Weiss,” he said, leaning back in his chair.  “We pride ourselves on the esteem of our graduates.”
    “Yes, sir,” Sara said, the anx iety sticking in her throat, “that’s why I feel very privileged to be admitted.”
    “As you should,” the D ean said, sucking in a heavy breath before continuing.  “However, we don’t simply expect our students to do well academically.”
    “I’m sorry,” Sara said, shaking her head, “I don’t understand.  What is this about?”
    “We have a code of conduct we expect our students to adhere to,” he said, narrowing his eyes on Sara as if he expected her to read his mind.
    “I completely understand, sir,” Sara said, although she didn’t know what any of this had to do with her.  She began to worry that the relationship between her and Banks had somehow been discovered.  “I try my best to follow the rules.”
    “Unfortunately,” the D ean said, displeasure thick in his monotone voice, “it has come to the school’s attention that your conduct outside of the classroom is less than desirable.”
    “What do you mean?” Sara said , her eyebrows scrunched together in confusion.  She had worked so hard to be exactly the type of student the school wanted.  Her face felt hot.  She needed some cold, fresh air.
    “ Ms. Weiss,” he said, his voice