All Chapters of SUBMISSION 101: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

The following week proves to be incident-free, shockingly enough. I am proud in my quiet triumph; not only have I given Professor Harlan a piece of my mind, but Grace finally leaves me alone, dropping her gaze whenever I pass her in the office. It is strange, but Professor Harlan’s apparent favor for me acts like a sort of… shield at the Bulletin. I figure that if Grace still has an issue with my lack of journalism education, I can worry about it another day.When Friday comes around, the quiet, albeit powerful stagnation that has allowed me to relax throughout the week comes to a screeching halt—this time, in the best way.I burst through my own front door so aggressively I nearly knock it off the hinges. But I barely notice. This time—for once—I come bearing good news. And it is absolutely fucking delicious.Milo and Jax are seated on my couch, Rhea on the armchair, curled up and working on some homework. When I come home from work, it is not uncommon to find the two m

I am not sure how long I’ve been tapping my fingers absentmindedly on my desk, but I have no doubts that I am probably irritating any passersby who have the misfortune of walking near me. But in all honesty, I am not even thinking about that. I am only mulling over, repeatedly, the plan that has been brewing in my mind all week.But now that the opportunity is here, I meet with a small semblance of doubt, a tiny voice in the back of my mind that is not strong enough to change my mind, but is certainly enough to cast various shades of reluctance across every corner of my rapidly working brain. Is this really what I want to do? Upend all of Professor Harlan’s secrets just to find out why he dumped me?“You’re playing with fire,” he said, with his long, lean, colossal body pressed up against mine, chest heaving with anger, with desire, with… something else?But, then again, “dumped” is not the right word. He said plainly that the two of us still could have been together. Ho

His brow knits together, and he sidesteps me before I can step out of the way to let him in. I stumble back, stunned, and watch in silence—watch as Professor Harlan's eyes find Armitage, the mug in his hand, his coat slung over the back of the living room chair.I can't move when it happens. It is too much for my brain to process, and it all seems to play out before me in intense flashes: Professor Harlan lunging forward, seizing Armitage by the collar of his shirt and throwing him against the wall."Professor Harlan!" I scream in protest, watching in panic as Professor Harlan's forearm braces Armitage's chest, fingers clenched around the collar of his shirt. Is his fist trembling?"You have about three seconds to tell me this isn't what it looks like," he growls over his shoulder, eyes now falling on me. They look impossibly dark, somehow darker than I've ever seen them, and I feel my stomach turn into a heavy pit."Whatever you think this is doesn't fucking matter

He hadn’t realized he’d run out of patience until that bridge had long been crossed. By the time the younger of the two men rises out of his armchair, gripping his glass of whisky so tight that it is a wonder the glass doesn’t shatter in his large hand, he is a lost cause.The older man knows. He can see it in his son’s eyes. Somewhere along the course of the conversation, somewhere along the line, they have reached the point of no return. There is no point reasoning with Professor Harlan when he reaches this state. His father knows that he will be furious past the point of reason until he isn’t. When he is just a boy, sometimes it has taken days. Now, more generally, it seems to take months, if Han is lucky.How has a pleasant conversation over two glasses of whisky gone so sour?“I’ve had enough,” Professor Harlan spits, confirming Han’s suspicions.There is nothing he can do but start from scratch on another day.“Ben—”“I don’t want to hear it,” Professor

It is eerily fitting, the way the rain comes down as I speed over to Professor Harlan’s, barely able to remember the last time I was there. But I don’t pay it any mind, even as it batters against my windshield, which is likely in part why I almost crash my car no less than three times. I am hellbent on reaching my destination; nothing else matters.I rap furiously on the door after I spring the steps two at a time up to his brownstone, and then again when he doesn’t answer the first time. Finally, after my third sequence of unforgivable and urgent knocking, Professor Harlan rips the door open.He looks irritated to see that anyone is bothering him unannounced. But when he realizes it is me, he just looks shocked.Rainwater drips from my eyelashes and fogs my vision.He lifts his brows, evidently waiting for me to speak first, because clearly he is at a loss as to why I am there.There is a mountain of words I want to say to him, nearly a year’s worth of questions