FORBIDDEN STUDY SESSIONS

Chapter 5: Rumors and Tension

We stood there frozen, hearts pounding in the small restroom. I could still feel Victor’s hands on me, the way his body had pressed against mine just moments ago. My short skirt felt twisted, and I smoothed it down quickly. Then we heard it, the girl bending down, probably checking under the door gap. A sharp intake of breath.

“Four legs? What the hell? Who’s in there with you, Betty? Open this door right now or I’m calling Professor Hale and security!”

Her voice rose, angry and loud. She started banging on the door harder, the sound echoing off the tiles. My stomach dropped. Fear hit me like cold water. We were going to get caught. Victor in the women’s restroom with me, right after that kiss and touching that left me aching. What would people say? My grades, my quiet life, it could all crumble.

“Victor,” I whispered, voice trembling. “She’s serious.”

He stayed calm, but his jaw tightened. “Just stay quiet. She’ll give up.”

The banging continued. “I know you’re in there flashing yourself around! Come out, you slut!” Another kick at the door. Then her footsteps moved away, but she yelled back, “I’m getting someone right now. Don’t move!”

The hallway grew quieter for a second. Victor moved fast. He cracked the door, checked both ways, then slipped out like a shadow. “Text me later,” he whispered before disappearing around the corner.

I waited another minute, adjusting my glasses and blouse, making sure nothing looked out of place. My hands still shook. When I finally stepped out, the corridor felt too bright. A professor, not Hale, but one from the history department, was walking by. He stopped, frowning.

“Miss Thompson, is everything alright? I heard shouting. Was someone else in the restroom with you?”

I forced a smile, pushing my glasses up. “No, Professor. Just me. Maybe someone's playing a prank. I’m fine.”

He looked doubtful but nodded. “Alright. Get back to class.”

I hurried away, legs weak, mind spinning from the close call and everything that had almost happened with Victor.

The next day on campus felt different. Gossip spread like wildfire. I walked to my morning Victorian Literature class trying to keep my head down, but whispers followed me. In the hall, two girls glanced my way and giggled. “Did you hear about Betty in Hale’s class? Those buttons… her chest is huge.”

I pretended not to notice, but my cheeks burned. In class, Professor Hale gave her usual lecture on restraint in relationships, but a couple guys from yesterday kept looking over, smirking. One leaned to his friend. “She’s even sexier without the uniform on, I bet.” The words carried just enough for me to catch. I sank lower in my seat, arms crossed tight over my breasts. Brilliant shy me, now the topic of crude talk. It distracted me the whole time. I barely took notes.

Lunch in the cafeteria was worse. Sarah and Mia sat with me, but nearby tables buzzed. “She’s got that innocent look but damn,” someone said loud enough. I poked at my food, telling my roommates I felt a bit off. They bought it, chatting about their own stuff, Sarah’s upcoming drama performance, Mia’s exam stress. I smiled along, but inside I replayed Victor’s kiss, his touch under my skirt. The chemistry felt real now, not just sparks. Yet the rumors made me want to hide.

Afternoon classes dragged the same way. In Modern Poetry, the professor read lines about secret desires, and my mind wandered to the restroom. A group of guys in the back whispered during break, one saying, “Betty Thompson’s body is insane. Those curves…” I excused myself early, heart racing. Campus paths felt longer, with more eyes on me. Even in history electives, the warmer room brought careful stretches and more glances. The gossip had turned my quiet life upside down.

By evening, I stayed in the dorm instead of meeting Victor for our private study session. The room felt safe. Sarah and Mia were out at some event. I curled up with a book, but my phone buzzed. Victor calling.

“Hey, Betty. Are you coming to the library? I’ve got notes ready this time.”

I hesitated, voice soft. “Not tonight. I’m down with something. Feeling sick.”

He paused. “You okay? Need anything? I can bring soup or whatever.”

“No, I’m good. Just rest. Thanks though.”

“Get well soon. We’ll catch up tomorrow. Miss talking to you.”

We ended the call. His concern warmed me, reminding me the connection went deeper than the heat in the restroom. I lay back, thinking about how his protectiveness mixed with that dominant side made my stomach flutter. Love, or whatever this was becoming, felt close, even if we hadn’t said it.

A knock came at the door. Sharp, insistent. My roommates weren’t back yet. I opened it, expecting maybe a neighbor.

There stood the girl from the restroom, Lisa, with another girl beside her, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. “We need to talk, You slut.”

The air shifted. Then they barged into my room.