I spun on my heel and braced for impact. She stopped herself just in time and her chunky heels squeaked on the tile floor.
"Just go ahead and start the paperwork. I'm sure you've got it all queued up and ready to go. Go ahead and do it now if you've got the time, but I'm not stopping."
I pulled open the lecture hall door and strode over the desk. My colleague looked confused but nodded when I asked to speak with a student.
"Clarity? A minute, please?" I asked the crowded hall.
She stood up, her eyes wide. Then she scrambled to gather her things and join me on the main floor. Every student watched with interest, even as the professor continued with his lecture.
"Are you crazy?" Clarity hissed as she led the way to the door. "Your department head is standing right there."
"Notice she has nothing to say," I pointed out.
Clarity waited until we were in the stairwell heading up to my office, then she spun around and pinned me with her wide-eyed look. "I can tell you've already started on the whole expose."
"What tipped you off?" I grinned.
She frowned at my obvious joy. "I just hope you aren't making a huge mistake. I don't want to a bad decision."
"What decision?" I said. It was as simple as that. When it came to Clarity there was no decision for me to make. She was it. She was everything. As she stood two steps above me, we were eye to eye, and I took a breath to tell her.
Her rosy smile stole my breath. "Well, if that's how you feel, then you should probably take a look at this." Clarity handed me a folded piece of paper.
She turned and started up the stairs again. I couldn't wait and opened the paper as we walked, then I stumbled on the first landing. "Wait, how did you get this?" I asked.
Clarity caught my arm to steady me and laughed. "That's not the important part," she said. "The important part is that the plagiarized essay is part of an official file that many other witnesses have seen. This exact paper cannot be switched out or faked at this point."
I took her hand from my arm and gripped it tight. "You mean you found a connection between this essay and Michael Tailor? How is that even possible?"
"Ego," Clarity smiled. "Michael Tailor never for second thought that anyone would investigate a case the Dean of Students bungled. So, he took whole sections of the essay directly from the nearest source."
I looked at the paper again though, it faded when she leaned close to point at it.
"It's an article written by Michael Tailor's lawyer. I used the online search engines to match it, then looked up the name in connection with Tailor. He cut and paste from his own lawyer's article," Clarity beamed.
Before I could process anything past the press of her warm body, Clarity ran up the next flight of stairs. We were out of breath when we finally made it to my office and she collapsed on the narrow sofa. I sat down next to her and handed her back the key piece of evidence.
"So, I guess this is it," she said.
"No," I said. I reached for a folder on my desk and handed it to Clarity. "This is it. I want you to read it and make your additions."
Her eyes flew over the first few lines. "This is the expose? You started it before we knew anything for sure."
"I know a few things for certain, and one is that that's a good-looking byline," I tapped the draft of the article where Clarity's name shared the byline with me.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Clarity
"You realize that once we publish this, everyone is going to be looking for us," Ford said.
I smiled as my stomach skittered with excitement. "Isn't your apartment the first place they are going to look for you?" I asked.
Ford nodded as he turned his key in the lock. "Yes, but there's no rule that says I have to open the door. You sure you want to come in?"
I stepped inside his apartment. "I'm not sure how many people would look for me here," I said. Besides my father, and Lexi, and ... I tried not to think about what Lexi would say. "I don't mind laying low for a while if you don't mind the company."
"Company?" Ford snorted. "I didn't cleanup for company. You're my co-author."
A pleasant chill raced over my body. "I don't think you actually have enough stuff in here to make a mess." I wandered from the short entryway hallway into his living room.
"I've got the essentials," Ford said. "Sofa, chair, lamps, television, stereo, and, most importantly, my computer." He sat down and pulled up our expose article.
While he made a few of my suggested changes, I tried to take a tour of his apartment. From every angle, all I wanted to look at was him. We had realized that publishing the article from Landsman College was a bad idea, so when Ford invited me to his apartment, it had felt natural. Now my stomach wouldn't stop fluttering. I tried to tell myself it was only the excitement of exposing Michael Tailor's misdeeds, but that was a lie. There was more to it, and the full extent hit me every time I glanced at Ford.
His white dress shirt was rumpled and he had rolled his sleeves up past his elbows. The top buttons were undone and exposed the deep V-neck of his white undershirt and a fringe of dark chest hair. I remembered being pressed to his chest when he comforted me and missed the question he asked me.
"Sorry, what?" I asked.
Ford smiled. "I asked if you wanted me to turn music on. The radio's right there, but I also have a decent record collection. Do you even know how to turn on a record player?"
I stuck out my tongue at him. "I'm not that young."
He laughed and turned back to the computer screen. I started to peruse the records he had stacked tightly on a bookshelf, then I ran across another framed photograph of his sister.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" I asked. "I feel like I pushed you into it but you're the only one that really has anything to lose."
"That's not true," Ford said. He pressed saved and stood up to join me at the mostly bare bookshelves. "This could change your life."
"Not as much as yours. You're going to lose a steady paycheck. I'm not some sheltered college girl that doesn't get what it's like to work for a living," I said. His proximity brought a bright warmth to my cheeks.
Ford's brow furrowed then he saw the picture of Liz and smiled. He picked up the frame. "This was taken about ten minutes after she fell off her bike. Her entire leg was scrapped up. Somehow, she managed to fall on part of a broken glass bottle. She's smiling that big because she just helped the doctor stitch up her knee," Ford told me.
"She always wanted to be a doctor," I said.
"I was a mess. All the blood and the big gash across her knee. It was awful, and yet look at her smile," Ford sighed proudly. "Liz could always take care of herself. She just let me help."
"So she'll be okay, but what about you?" I asked. Ford was inches away, his fond smile drawing me in. "Are you sure you want to do this?"
He put the photograph back and caught both my hands. He tugged me closer and looked deep into my eyes. "I am sure." He brushed a kiss across the back of my knuckles. "In fact, I'm ecstatic."