Jules POV
The Dean's secretary won't look at me.
"Miss Rowan." She gestures toward the closed door. "Dean Morrison will see you now."
I stand on shaking legs. I know what this is. Got the email last night requesting my presence at 9 AM sharp.
The office smells like old books and feels like a judgment room. Dean Morrison sits behind a massive desk, reading glasses perched on his nose.
"Sit down, Miss Rowan."
I sit. The chair is too big, making me feel small.
He doesn't waste time. "We've received multiple complaints regarding your presence in various campus activities and organizations."
My stomach drops. "Complaints?"
"Your continued participation has created an uncomfortable environment for other students." He slides a paper across the desk. "Effective immediately, you're being a
