"Hey! Give that back," I protested, reaching for it.
Knox held it just out of my reach, his thumb swiping the screen. "Passcode."
"I’m not giving you my passcode, you thief."
He didn’t look bothered. He simply held the phone up, angling it toward my face. The lock screen clicked open with a soft chirp. "Face ID. Convenient."
He tapped the screen rapidly, inputting his own number, and then his pocket buzzed.
He slid the phone back into my hand, his knuckles grazing my palm. A brief, unwanted jolt of electricity shot up my arm, and I quickly pulled my hand back, tucking the phone against my chest.
"Bonfire starts at eight on the campus green," Knox said, leaning off the wall. "I’ll text you."
He gave me a brief, mocking salute and stepped aside, blending effortlessly into the crowd of students.
Once he was out of sight, I unlocked my phone.
Sure enough, a new contact was open on my screen: Boyfriend.
I stared at the name for a second, my jaw tightening as I remembered him kissing a girl in his bedroom last night.
I tapped edit, deleted what he typed, and put in a replacement: Walking STD.
Much better.
I locked the screen, adjusted my bag on my shoulder, and headed off to study before my shift.
The campus quad was freezing by three in the afternoon, the autumn wind whipping fallen leaves across the paths. I wrapped my knitted scarf tighter around my neck, clutching my bag close as I walked toward the university library for my afternoon shift.
"Hey. Bookworm."
I turned toward the brick archway near the student union.
The brunette from last night... Chloe, was standing there, flanked by two girls in identical oversized puffer jackets. Her arms were crossed, and the look in her dark eyes was intense.
Without Knox’s bed between us, she looked even more hostile.
"Can I help you?" I asked.
Chloe stepped forward, her expensive leather boots clicking against the pavement. She stopped just a foot away, looking me up and down with a slow, hateful stare.
"Don’t play dumb with me," Chloe sneered in disgust. "I saw you last night. Pushing your way into the SinBin like you own the place. Tutoring Knox doesn’t make you special, Bennett. You’re just a transaction to him. A charity case he’s using to keep from getting suspended."
One of her friends let out a nasty, quiet laugh.
"You think he actually wants you?" Chloe continued, stepping closer. "Knox Sheridan doesn’t date girls who work diner shifts and wear target sneakers. The second this month is over and he passes his exams, you’ll be right back to scrubbing tables and being invisible. So don’t get comfortable."
A year ago, or maybe even a month ago, the sting of her words might have made me look down. It might have made me feel the raw, burning shame of my mother’s struggling shop and my own empty bank account.
But today, with the bank penalty paid and the contract signed, I felt absolutely nothing but irritation.
I took a slow breath, meeting Chloe’s gaze with a calm, unbothered stare.
"If you’re so comfortable in your place with him, Chloe," I said smoothly, "I wonder why you’re standing out here in the freezing wind trying so hard to convince me of it."
Chloe’s jaw dropped slightly, her cheeks flushing red.
"And for the record," I continued, taking a step forward and looking at her two friends, who suddenly looked very interested in their boots, "some of us actually have to study for our futures instead of relying on athlete handouts. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a shift to start."
I marched right past her, intentionally clipping her shoulder with my canvas bag on my way out... just like she had done last night.
"You little bitch!" Chloe yelled behind me.
I didn’t look back; I kept my head high, walking straight into the warmth of the library.
But as the heavy glass doors shut behind me, my knees felt slightly shaky. The target was officially on my back, and the performance hadn’t even started yet.
"A librarian? That arrogant prick," Priya declared, tossing a cream-colored knit sweater onto my bed.
It was 6:45 PM, and the apartment was filled with the scent of hairspray and the loud pop music Priya always played when she was in styling mode.
Knox’s text had arrived thirty minutes earlier.
Walking STD:Meet me by the massive oak tree near the library parking lot. Wear something warm. And please, don’t look like a librarian.
"I told you he was an asshole," I said, sitting in the centre of the bed in my camisole.
"Yes, but he’s an asshole that we’re going to make choke on his words," Priya said, marching over to my closet and pulling out a pair of dark-wash skinny jeans. "Put these on. And the sweater. It’s cozy, it’s warm, and the neckline hangs off one shoulder just enough to say ’I didn’t try’ while looking absolutely gorgeous."
"Priya, it’s a campus bonfire. People are going to be throwing beer and standing near ash."
"Which is why you’re wearing boots," she said, kicking my black ankle boots toward me. "Now, leave your hair down. Those curls are beautiful, Nora, stop hiding them in that low bun."
I sighed, but did as I was told.
I pulled the cream sweater over my head, letting the soft wool fall off my left shoulder, and zipped up the jeans. I brushed out my curls, letting them tumble wild and dark around my shoulders.
Without my glasses and my hair down, I barely recognized the girl in the mirror.
I stared at my reflection, my stomach doing a nervous flip that had nothing to do with the freezing weather outside. I chewed on my bottom lip, feeling my shoulders go tense.
Priya caught my eye in the glass, her smirk fading slightly. "Hey. You good?"
I exhaled slowly, trying to smooth down the front of the sweater. "I’m fine. Just... it’s a lot of people. And we have to pretend we’re crazy about each other."
Priya’s expression softened, her hands gently squeezing my shoulders.
"Just be careful tonight," she said quietly, meeting my gaze in the glass. "The bonfire is going to be packed; the hockey guys, the boosters, the students... they’re all going to be watching. I’ll be there with some of the girls from my law seminar, so I’ll keep an eye out for you in the crowd. But since you have to do the happy-couple entrance, you’re on your own for the walk-in."
She leaned in closer. "Knox is a player. He knows exactly how to touch you, how to look at you, and how to make the crowd believe it. Don’t let yourself get caught in the performance."
"I won’t," I said, my voice steady as I adjusted the collar of the cream sweater. "Strictly business, Priya. I’m just here to fulfill the contract."
I grabbed my purse, took a deep breath, and walked out into the cold night to face the fire.