By Sunday evening, the campus gossip had died down, replaced by the dread of the week ahead.
I walked toward the SinBin under the cover of a dark, chilly night with my canvas tote bag slung over my shoulder. Inside were three different color-coded review sheets on price elasticity and a printout of practice problems.
I was determined to keep this session strictly professional. Saturday’s tense library meeting had left me off-balance, and I needed to put my tutor walls back up.
The hockey house was surprisingly quiet when I walked up the front steps. The front door was unlocked, as usual.
I pushed it open, stepping into the grand, slightly messy entryway. Jake was sitting on the living room couch with a gaming controller in his hands, but he looked up as I entered.
"Hey, Nora!" Jake called out, giving me a friendly, golden-retriever grin. "Cap’s upstairs in his room. Go on up."
"Thanks, Jake," I said, giving him a small nod before heading toward the grand wooden staircase.
I walked up to the second floor, my boots silent on the carpeted hallway as I made my way to the heavy oak door at the very end of the hall. I knocked firmly on the wood, waiting for Knox’s muffled voice to tell me to get in.
No response.
I knocked again, louder this time. Still nothing.
Assuming he was ignoring me or listening to music, I gripped the brass handle, twisted it, and pushed the door open.
"Sheridan, we’re starting on time today..."
The words died in my throat.
Knox wasn’t in the room. Instead, sitting in the leather desk chair by the window was Vanessa Orwell.
She looked effortlessly flawless, wearing a slate-gray knit dress and high-heeled boots. A designer handbag sat on the desk next to Knox’s laptop, and she was calmly scrolling through her phone.
From the closed bathroom door on the other side of the bedroom, the muffled, steady rush of a running shower echoed into the room.
Vanessa slowly lowered her phone, narrowing her eyes as they landed on me standing in the doorway. The elegant, plastic smile she had worn at the bonfire was completely gone, replaced by a cold, territorial glare.
"You’re early," Vanessa said in a smooth, condescending voice. "Plus tutors should really learn to knock."
"I did knock," I replied, keeping my voice flat as I stepped into the room and closed the door behind me. I had no intention of letting her think she intimidated me. "And my session with Knox is scheduled for eight o’clock. It is currently seven-fifty-eight."
Vanessa stood up, smoothing down the front of her gray dress. She took a step closer, her heels clicking sharply against the hardwood floor.
"You really are persistent, aren’t you?" Vanessa said, looking me up and down with contempt. "Trying so hard to hold onto a world you don’t belong in. But Knox is a Sheridan, Nora. He plays his little games, but in the end, he does what his family requires. My father and Garrison are finalizing a major land development partnership this week. And Knox will be taking me to the Boosters Gala."
She stopped just a foot away, and I could perceive her suffocating perfume. "This little fake relationship might buy him some compliance points with Brennan, but don’t get confused. You’re just a temporary distraction. A charity case."
I stared at her with a blank expression. I had dealt with hostile diner customers and arrogant academics for years; a wealthy girl marking her territory was nothing new.
"If Knox wants to play games, that’s his business," I replied in a levelled voice. "My business is making sure he doesn’t fail macroeconomics. If you’re here to help him study, feel free to stay. Otherwise, you’re blocking the desk."
Vanessa’s eyes flashed with anger, and her jaw tightened.
Before she could fire back, the bathroom door clicked and swung open. A cloud of warm steam curled into the bedroom, carrying the scent of cedar and soap.
Knox stepped out.
He was wearing nothing but a pair of loose gray sweatpants, his broad chest and dark tattoos on full display. He was toweling his damp, dark hair with a white towel, but he froze the second he saw the two of us standing in the center of his room.
He lowered the towel, his brow furrowing as his eyes darted between Vanessa and me. "What’s going on here?"
Vanessa’s hostile demeanor vanished in a heartbeat, replaced by a warm, charming smile as she turned to him. "Nothing, Knox. Your tutor just arrived. I was just leaving."
She walked over to him, rising on her tiptoes to press a slow, lingering kiss to his cheek, right near the corner of his mouth.
Knox went completely rigid, but he didn’t pull away.
Vanessa pulled back, slowly trailing her red-nailed fingers down his bare, damp shoulder as she looked over at me, giving me a cold, victorious smirk.
Then she walked over to the desk, slung her designer bag over her shoulder, and walked toward the door. She stopped beside me, giving me a final, ice-cold look before looking back at Knox. "Don’t forget dinner with my father tomorrow night, Knox. Garrison expects you there."
She pushed past me, stepping out into the hallway and slamming the door shut behind her.
The room fell into a heavy, silent quiet; the only sound was the drip of water from the bathroom sink.
Knox stood there, toweling his hair once more before draping the towel over his shoulders.
He watched me with a lazy, calculating expression, a slow smirk playing on his lips as he waited for my reaction.
He took a step closer, his bare chest glistening slightly in the dim light of his room. "You’re not going to ask what she was doing here?"
"Nope," I said flatly.
Knox blinked, his smirk faltering slightly. "Not even a little curious, Bookworm?"
"My contract covers your grades, Sheridan, not your social calendar," I said, walking past him and dropping my bag onto his desk.
I pulled out my notebook and the price elasticity sheets, refusing to look at his shirtless state. "Put a shirt on, sit down, and open your notebook."
Knox let out a low, frustrated growl under his breath. He marched over to his dresser, grabbed a plain black t-shirt, and shoved his arms through it. "You’re infuriating, Bennett. You know that?"
"It’s my best quality," I replied, sitting in the desk chair Vanessa had just vacated. "Now, let’s talk about Zone diagrams."
For the next two hours, the tension shifted back into the familiar rhythm of our study sessions.
Knox was distracted, his jaw tight as he stared at the diagrams I had drawn, but he actually tried. He solved two supply problems without complaining, and he stayed focused whenever he wasn’t trying to charm me.
At ten o’clock, I stretched my aching back and opened my laptop to log the compliance hours for the athletic department.
"We’re done for tonight," I said, logging into the student portal. "You actually did decent work today."
"Told you, Bennett. Quick study," Knox smirked, leaning back on his bed.
Suddenly, a sharp, digital chime drew my attention to my laptop screen.
In the bottom right corner of the screen, a small gray notification banner popped up. I froze, my eyes locking onto the sender name: Briar Athletic Compliance Committee.
My stomach did a sudden, uneasy flip.
I moved the cursor over, clicked the banner, and watched as the browser tab loaded. My heart did a sudden, violent drop as I read the subject line: Immediate Notice of Random Coursework Audit.
Dear Miss Bennett,
Please be advised that your student-athlete tutoring assignment, Knox Sheridan, has been selected for a random compliance coursework audit. You are both required to report to the Office of Athletic Compliance tomorrow morning, Monday, at 9:00 AM. Mr. Sheridan must bring his physical economics homework workbook, fully completed up to Chapter Eight, for manual inspection by the committee.
Failure to present the completed workbook or attend the audit will result in immediate suspension of athletic eligibility and review of tutoring contract standing.
My breath hitched. Knox’s physical workbook was completely empty. We had been doing all of our work on visual whiteboards and scratch paper.
My face turned pale as I looked up at Knox. "Sheridan. We have a massive problem."