Chloe’s sheepish smile indicated she knew she’d been caught. “Well, I’ve been learning from her too. Anyway, I know this is your lunch break, but maybe we can talk about other hypotheses later this week. Then I can work on a model predicting the likelihood of dropping out.” She winced. “Sorry, I’m babbling.”

  “A model?”

  Chloe pulled on a strand of her hair. “Well, I read about how to do it. Maybe that’s too ambitious.”

  “Nonsense. Nothing is too ambitious if you’re willing to learn. Why don’t you give it a try, and then we’ll look at it together? I studied linear models in grad school. I can help you if you get stuck.”

  “Really?” Chloe sat up straighter. “You don’t mind helping?”

  “Of course not. I am an educator, after all.” Ruth heard the defensive tone and reminded herself that it was unnecessary. Some faculty saw her as an administrator rather than a teacher, but Chloe had never questioned her experience. “It’s not that I have endless time for such things, of course, but I’ll make time for this. You’re worth it.”

  Chloe’s expression collapsed as her nerves seemed to melt into a softer emotion. “Thank you.” Her voice cracked, and she looked as if she might cry. “That means a lot to me.”

  Behind them, the computer chimed—an Outlook Calendar notification, signaling a meeting in five minutes.

  Ruth opened her mouth to excuse herself, but the words didn’t come. She was lost in long lashes and hazel eyes flecked with green and gold. How did I ever find Chloe? And why did it take me so long to notice her?

  “Well.” A quiver in Ruth’s voice betrayed her feelings. “I have…” What was the word? “Meeting.”

  “Oh. Oh!” The spell broke, and Chloe looked away. “Of course. I’ll get out of your hair. I mean your office. Thanks. I mean, bye.”

  As Chloe rushed from the room, Ruth remained at the table, hands folded in her lap. What am I doing? She shouldn’t gaze into Chloe’s eyes—especially not moments after Chloe had seen her half-naked.

  Chloe was objectively beautiful, but completely off-limits. If Chloe had a crush, that was flattering—but nothing Ruth could ever encourage. Chloe needed a mentor, someone to prod her to finish her bachelor’s degree and ultimately get a much better job. No matter how savvy she might seem at times, they weren’t equals in any sense.

  The presidency was a lonely job. Technically, every single person at the college worked for her—and that meant she had to maintain boundaries with everyone.

  She hadn’t realized how alone she would feel with so few allies at the college or even on the board. For a long time, Piper had been her only confidant. Now that she had a connection with Chloe, she was tempted to let her in—but it was too dangerous.

  Ruth resolved to dial back the friendly relationship she’d inadvertently developed with Chloe. From now on, she would be polite but professional at all times. If the distance made her job even more lonely, well, that was the price of being the boss. She couldn’t let Chloe get the wrong idea.

  Or the right one, a voice in her brain piped up.

  Oh, shut up. There might be an infinitesimal kernel of truth to the idea that she was attracted to Chloe, but it hardly mattered. Her professional obligations came first.

  Outlook chimed again. It was time to go.

  Ruth dug in her desk for some chocolate—the one comfort she could have without complications.

  * * *

  Caitlyn sank into her chair and blew out a breath. What the hell just happened?

  In any other context, she would be confident in the answer. But this was Ruth. Chloe’s boss. The college president. It seemed impossible, but Ruth’s gaze had been charged with meaning.

  Questions poured into her brain. Was Ruth single? Did she like women? Did she realize they’d shared a potent moment, and was she freaking out too?

  There was only one person Caitlyn could ask. She jumped up and power-walked to the English department.

  Miguel sat at the small table in his office, studying stack of papers with a can of Diet Coke in his hand. He startled at Caitlyn’s urgent knock.

  “Is Ruth queer?” Caitlyn had planned to segue into the topic, but screw it—she was too antsy.

  “Whoa. Hang on a second.” Miguel jumped up and pushed his office door closed.

  “Oh yeah. Good idea.” Unable to sit still, Caitlyn rapped her foot on the chair leg in a string of quick beats.

  Miguel returned to his seat. “The short answer is…probably.”

  Caitlyn’s heart thumped. He knows something. “What’s the long answer?”

  “Well, as far as I know, Dr. Holloway doesn’t talk about her personal life at work—and as you can imagine, no one dares to ask.”

  “Yeah.” Caitlyn cringed at the thought of a faculty member raising the subject.

  Miguel leaned in. “However, I have a friend in Chicago government, and he told me Holloway used to date the mayor’s director of legislative affairs, a woman named Emily.”

  Caitlyn tingled at the confirmation. Ruth dates women. Not that it mattered, of course. Nothing could ever happen between them. Still, against reason, it felt important to know.

  Miguel slurped his soda. “Anyway, I don’t know how Dr. Holloway identifies herself, but to the extent that I have a gaydar for women, she certainly pings it. Right?”

  “Yes, there’s a certain vibe. Do you think she’s in the closet here?”

  He frowned. “I don’t see why she would be. It’s a lefty liberal-arts college. If anything, she’d get more respect from faculty if they knew—with the exception of a few ancient grumps, I guess.”

  “Yeah, it was the same in grad school. Very accepting, to the point where you almost had more cred if you identified as queer. Ruth probably just likes her privacy.”

  “So.” Miguel squinted. “Why did you want to know?”

  Caitlyn shifted and crossed her arms. She should have known asking the question would trigger an interrogation. “No reason.”

  “Oh, come on. I know what lesbians like. Short hair, authority.” He gave her a teasing grin.

  “I’m bi, remember?” Caitlyn stalled.

  “Okay, what do you like?”

  “Fine. I also like short hair and authority,” Caitlyn grumbled. “But I wondered because…” She sighed. Miguel already knew her biggest secret. Surely she could trust him with this. “There was a tiny incident.”

  “You kissed?” His hand flew to his mouth.

  “No! God, no. I accidentally walked in while Ruth was changing her shirt, and I kind of froze. Not for long, but I think Ruth knew—she sort of caught me staring.” Her pulse raced all over again as she recalled the scene with perfect clarity.

  Miguel’s eyes bulged. “You saw her topless?”

  “In a bra,” Caitlyn said quickly. “Pants and a bra. But then later, when we were looking at data, we… It’s hard to explain, but we looked into each other’s eyes.”

  “Wait, are you saying Ruth hit on you? Or was flirting with you?”

  “No, nothing like that.” Caitlyn searched for the words. “It was like she saw me. Caitlyn. I mean, not literally. She still thinks I’m Chloe. But it was like she could see into my head. She knew I was looking at her like that. And her guard slipped for a second, and I swear there was something there.”

  “Oh my God.” His eyes grew even wider. “But you can’t— You’re supposed to be Chloe!”

  “I know, I know.” Caitlyn groaned. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to do anything. I only wanted to know for sure that I didn’t imagine the, um, tension.” Shit, shit, shit. She was supposed to be keeping a low profile, and instead she’d gone and developed a silly crush on Chloe’s boss. For one million reasons, she couldn’t let a moment like that happen again.

  “I hate to ask this,” Miguel said carefully. “But do you think she would ever hit on you?”

  “No.” Caitlyn didn’t have to think about it. “Ruth is ethical. She would never put me, or any subordinate, in that situation.”

  “I think you’re right. She wouldn’t proposition an employee.” Miguel brightened. “Then again, you’re not really her assistant. Technically, you don’t even work here!”

  “Har har.” Suddenly eager to change the subject, she asked, “How is your class going?”

  “Oh come on. This is so much more interesting.”

  “Please?” Caitlyn already felt exposed. She needed time to process her feelings in private.

  Miguel relented with a put-upon sigh. “Okay. We’re starting with eighteenth century poems…”

  As Miguel talked, Caitlyn half-listened while she ruminated on her depressing situation. She’d grown so comfortable at Pulaski, sometimes she forgot she was an impostor. Her job was to stay off Ruth’s radar, not get attached.

  Besides, whether she worked there or not, nothing would ever happen. Caitlyn’s entire identity was a lie, and that meant she had already blown her chance for a real connection with Ruth. She’d have to settle for helping Ruth as much as she could before it all had to end.

  Chapter 12

  Determined not to be early or late, Caitlyn knocked on Ruth’s door the second her phone displayed three o’clock.

  “Come in,” came the faint response.

  Caitlyn sucked in her stomach to calm the flutters. She had barely seen Ruth since the incident, aside from tight nods when Ruth strode past her desk. After two long days of fretting that she’d made Ruth uncomfortable, Caitlyn had resorted to a Microsoft Outlook calendar invitation to talk with her.

  She cracked the door. “Um, is this still a good time?”

  “Yes, it’s fine.” Ruth sat at her desk, looking stern in a blazer and blouse that buttoned up to her collarbone despite the warm, stuffy air in her office. “Remind me what this is about?”

  Caitlyn crept forward. “You said we could talk about a predictive model?”

  In reality, Caitlyn had scheduled the meeting because she couldn’t stop obsessing about what had happened and whether Ruth was avoiding her. Since Ruth had offered to help, it was a useful pretense.

  “Ah. Right. Have a seat.” The studied indifference in Ruth’s gaze was too exaggerated to be anything but a performance; it meant the opposite. She was uneasy.

  Caitlyn deflated at the confirmation of her fears. This is my fault. She’d lost herself in Ruth’s creamy curves, her slow reaction revealing too much, and now Ruth was avoiding her. It was the last thing she wanted.

  She trudged to the conference table and sat with her laptop, hoping her sadness didn’t show on her face.

  Ruth started toward a chair on the other side of the table, then wavered. “I suppose I’ll need to see the screen.” She pulled out the chair next to Caitlyn and sat. But instead of wheeling up to the table, she kept several feet between them.

  The distance felt like miles. Would they ever joke over lattes again?

  “What have you got?” Ruth crossed her arms.

  Right. The model. In reality, Caitlyn had studied models in graduate school. On top of that, Maggie had given her a good sense of the data available—and Caitlyn knew the futility of attempting to model something as complex as retention with only the information the college happened to collect already.

  Oh well. Here goes. Caitlyn pulled up a spreadsheet. “So, this is a list of the variables we have in our data systems. Basic demographics, courses taken and grades, high school name, and financial aid data.”

  Ruth peered at the screen. “I see. What sort of model are you thinking about?”

  “Well, I read that when you have a binary outcome—like returning to school or not—a logit model could be good.”

  “You’ve done your homework.” Ruth looked begrudgingly impressed.

  You have no idea. “Just some Internet research.”

  “Yes, a logit would be acceptable.”

  “Great. What are my next steps?”

  “Hmm.” Ruth drummed her fingers on her chin. “You should decide which variables to include, based on your theory. Then you’ll need software to run the model and perform some tests. For example, you can look at the R-squared value.”

  Pseudo R-squared, Caitlyn corrected silently.

  “Actually, it’s called something else for a logit. I learned this over a decade ago, but I think it’s called Pseudo R-squared. You can also look at the residuals, and… Let’s see.” Ruth squinted. “Make sure they’re normally distributed.”

  Nope. That’s OLS regression. Caitlyn didn’t blame her for forgetting the difference. Ruth had been an administrator for years, and she had no reason to have these details memorized. “Thanks. I’ll do some reading.”

  “Yes. Good.” Ruth pressed her lips into a line.

  Caitlyn wasn’t getting anywhere on her real goal or even her fake goal. Maybe she could steer the conversation away from math concepts. “So, the first work group meeting is coming up. How are you feeling about it?”

  “Fine.” Ruth’s face was a wall.

  Caitlyn stared. “That’s it? You feel…fine?”

  Tension cracked between them. “Two math faculty confirmed that they’re coming,” Ruth said at last.

  “That’s great.” It came out high-pitched and perky.

  “We’ll see.” Ruth studied her fingernails.

  Gathering her courage, Caitlyn decided to be direct. “I’m sorry again for what happened the other day. I don’t want you to feel awkward or self-conscious around me.”

  Ruth’s posture stiffened. “I don’t feel awkward.”

  Sure, everything is normal and chill.

  Caitlyn waited, but Ruth remained silent as a statue. Defeated, she closed her laptop. “Well, I know you’re busy. I’ll let you get back to work.”

  Ruth exhaled audibly and pushed back her chair.

  As Ruth returned to her desk, Caitlyn tucked her laptop under her arm and headed for the door. Her mood couldn’t sink any lower.

  “Chloe?” Ruth’s voice stopped her.

  Caitlyn turned around.

  “Set up another meeting once you’ve settled on your variables. In the meantime, I’ll do some reading and refresh my memory on logit models.” Ruth’s tone contained a trace of an apology.

  Caitlyn latched on and held it close, the one sign that the ice might thaw. “Thanks. I really appreciate it.” She walked out and closed the door behind her.

  Not awkward at all.

  * * *

  Two days later, Ruth and Chloe had a scheduled meeting. There was a knock on the doorframe at the exact moment the calendar notification popped up on Ruth’s computer.

  Chloe stood in the doorway, clutching her laptop with both hands. She shifted between her feet. “Um, hi. It’s two o’clock.”

  “Indeed it is. Please come in.” Ruth stood too quickly, then gripped the desk to steady herself. She still felt guilty about her cold demeanor a few days ago; this time, she was determined to strike the right balance with Chloe—friendly, but professional. There was no reason they’d have to forgo the warm working relationship that obviously meant something to both of them.

  Chloe’s sandals clicked as she walked over to the conference table. She sat in a prim pose and smoothed her skirt before opening her laptop.

  Ruth averted her gaze, determined to look at anything but Chloe’s legs. Professional.

  “So, I’m not sure if we should talk about this at the work group—I’ll leave it up to you—but I have the results from your early-alert initiative.”

  “Oh!” Ruth dropped into the chair next to Chloe and leaned in to peer at the screen. If the summer pilot went well, she could make a strong case for fall. But if not… “Just tell me, is it good news?”

  “Yes.” Chloe tapped the screen, revealing one of her stylish graphs. She pointed to a taller column at the end. “We’re up seventeen percent for retaining students in the term, meaning they’re still enrolled in at least one class.”

  “Whoa. How many faculty participated in the alert system?”

  “One second.” Chloe paged through a few slides before landing on one with a graph divided into red and green bars. “Eighty-six percent recorded attendance—and their retention rates were twelve percent higher than the ones who refused.”

  “Fantastic.” A text box caught Ruth’s eye. “You even list the names. Oh, they would not be happy about this.” She resisted—just barely—the urge to cackle.

  “This is just for us.” Chloe shot Ruth a warning look. “Remember, we don’t want to antagonize the faculty.”

  “Sure, sure.” Ruth waved her hand. “Did you find anything else in the data?”

  “Actually, yes.” Chloe pointed at the chart. “Every full-time faculty member recorded attendance except for Steve and someone named Randolph Hayes.”

  “Randy. Of course.” Ruth rubbed her temples. “He’s a business professor who has been here since the dawn of time. A lost cause, as far as computers go.”

  “Got it.” Chloe gestured to the other bar. “But look, only half of the adjunct faculty submitted reports. And they were more likely to lose students.”

  “Okay.” Ruth waited for Chloe to get to the point.

  Chloe shifted in her chair to face Ruth fully. “I’ve heard you mock the idea of hiring full-time faculty when adjuncts can do the same job for a fraction of the cost. So I thought you should know what the evidence shows.”

  Ruth opened her mouth to deny it, then recalled a certain day in her office, almost two months ago. She’d been talking to Jack about the budget, and Chloe’s eyes had flashed with unexpected rage. “I believe I remember the relevant conversation. I take it you disagreed with what you heard.”

  “Honestly, yes.” Chloe held her gaze. “I know you have a tight budget, but I didn’t think any academic would prefer adjunct labor. These are people with PhDs making poverty wages.”