Keegan tightened his grip on the strap of his portfolio bag, pulling it securely against his side as if it were a shield.
Taking a sharp, steadying breath, he pushed the double doors open.
The quiet click echoed like a gunshot in the dead-silent room.
Every single head snapped toward him.
He could feel the weight of dozens of eyes staring at his mud-splattered white shirt and stained trousers, but he kept his chin up, refusing to look back at Jamie as he marched down the aisle toward the front.
From the middle row, Kira was already moving.
Her head was lowered in deep embarrassment, her long white and dark braids swinging forward to veil her face from the whispering classmates.
She walked with stiff, hesitant steps, meeting Keegan at the front of the room.
Slowly, reluctantly, she raised her chin to look up at the professor.
Professor Vance stood behind his desk, his arms tightly crossed over his chest, his expression hard enough to crack stone.
He looked down at the two of them, his gaze lingering briefly on Keegan’s disastrous, muddy appearance before fixing entirely on Kira.
“Miss Kira Smith,” Professor Vance began, his voice dropping into a low, authoritative rumble that carried across the entire lecture hall.
“Care to explain what exactly you are doing sitting at a desk in an Art History examination hall, holding a pen over a paper you are not registered for?”
Kira swallowed hard, her fingers twisting nervously behind her back.
“Professor, I can explain—”
“Because the last time I checked the university registry, you were a Psychology major,” Professor Vance interrupted, his hands remaining firmly folded as he leaned slightly forward.
He looked from Kira, to Keegan, and then back to Kira, his brow furrowing in deep disappointment.
“And considering you are currently running for Student President, not to mention your highly visible position as the captain of the university cheer team, I expected a completely different level of academic integrity and judgment from you.
How can you, of all people, jeopardize your entire standing on this campus by attempting to pull a stunt like this?”
The classroom erupted into a wave of quiet, frantic murmurs.
Keegan felt a hot surge of protective anger flare up in his chest, overriding even his own panic about the exam.
“It wasn’t her fault, Professor,” Keegan spoke up, his voice tight but clear as he stepped slightly in front of Kira.
“She only sat there because I was late.
I had a nut of an accident by the road.
She wasn’t going to write the paper for me, she was just…
trying to save my seat so the door wouldn’t be locked before I got here.”
“Mr.
Sterling, look at yourself.
You look like you just rolled out of a riverbank, and you are twenty-five minutes late for an exam,”
The Professor said, his sharp eyes cutting through Keegan’s excuse.
“And Miss Smith, regardless of your intentions, entering an exam room under false pretenses is a direct violation of university policy.
For someone tying to represent the entire student body, this is an incredibly grave mistake.”
Keegan felt the room spinning.
The weight of what Kira had risked for him—her reputation, her cheer captaincy, her entire shot at the student presidency—hit him like a physical blow.
Panic, sharp and suffocating, clawed at his throat.
He couldn’t let her take the fall for his disaster of a morning.
He couldn’t let his own mess ruin her future.
Desperate, his pride completely vanishing, Keegan’s knees actually began to buckle.
He leaned forward, hands dropping toward the floor, completely prepared to drop to his knees right there in front of the entire Classroom to beg the professor for mercy.
“Professor, please,” Keegan pleaded, his voice cracking with raw emotion.
“Expel me, fail me, do whatever you want to me, but please don’t do this to Kira.
It was all me, I swear—”
BEEP!
BEEP!
BEEP!
BEEP!
A deafening, high-pitched shriek sliced through the room, violently cutting Keegan off.
The university’s emergency fire alarm erupted, its mechanical wail echoing off the concrete walls with ear-piercing force.
Red strobe lights began flashing frantically against the ceiling.Before anyone could even react, a loud, collective Hiss echoed from above.
A split second later, the ceiling sprinklers unleashed a torrential downpour of cold, high-pressure water directly onto the entire classroom.
Instantly, the room descended into utter madness.
Students shrieked, jumping out of their chairs as the icy deluge soaked them to the skin.
Down on the desks, the dreaded Art History exam papers were immediately drowned.
The printed questions smeared, the white paper turning to useless mush within seconds, and the ink bled across the wood like dark veins.
All of Keegan’s agonizing stress about failing the test was literally washed away in a matter of moments.
Through the pouring water, Keegan wiped his eyes, catching a glimpse of Jamie frantically trying to shield his own paper, his smug, mocking expression completely replaced by soaked, dripping panic.
Suddenly, the doors at the back of the lecture hall were violently kicked open, slamming against the walls.
Two heavily geared firefighters, clad in thick, dark protective suits and respirators, burst into the flooded classroom.
Their voices boomed with absolute, terrifying urgency through the blaring alarms, cutting straight through the students’ confusion.
“Evacuate!
Move, move, move!” one of the firefighters screamed, gesturing wildly toward the exit.
“Get your belongings!
Everyone get out of the building right now and get entirely off the campus!
Go!”
“Move toward the main gates!
Don’t stop for anything!” the second one roared, pulling a panicked student toward the door.
The remaining composure in the room shattered into pure terror.
Students began trampling over chairs and desks, screaming as they scrambled toward the exits in a desperate bid to escape.
Keegan didn’t wait to see what the Professor would do.
He grabbed Kira tightly by the arm, pulling her flush against his side to shield her from the rushing crowd.
“Kira, come on!” he yelled over the roar of the alarms and the rushing water, dragging her forward into the chaotic, rain-slicked stampede heading for the hallways.