Chapter 13
1021 Words
Campus gossip traveled faster than wildfire.
By Thursday, Ivy could feel it — that hum of whispers that followed her through the halls, the glances that lingered too long.
She didn’t know who started it, or how much truth people thought they knew, but the rumor was clear enough: Ivy McCall and Asher Reid were more than step-siblings.
It wasn’t shouted, not yet. It floated in low voices, behind smirks and raised brows.
And it was enough to make her stomach twist every time she walked across the quad.
⸻
That afternoon, she found Asher sitting on the library steps, earbuds in, sunglasses on, looking entirely too relaxed for someone at the center of a small scandal.
“Don’t tell me you’ve heard it too,” he said without looking up.
“I have,” she muttered, sitting beside him. “And it’s everywhere.”
He finally pulled his sunglasses down, studying her. “You look like you’re about to combust.”
“I just don’t get it. We’ve been careful.”
He smirked. “Apparently not careful enough.”
“This isn’t funny, Asher.”
He sighed, leaning back against the steps. “I’m not saying it is. But people will talk no matter what we do. We live together. We take the same classes. We can’t exactly avoid each other.”
She glanced at him, frustrated at how calm he was. “Maybe we should try.”
His jaw tightened slightly. “You really think that’ll help?”
“I think it’ll stop people from assuming—”
“What? That you actually like me?”
Her voice rose. “That there’s something going on!”
He stared at her, quiet for a moment. Then he said, softly, “There is something going on, Ivy. You just don’t want to call it what it is.”
Her heart skipped, but she turned away. “This isn’t the time.”
He shrugged, putting his earbuds back in. “It never is.”
⸻
Later that day
Ivy tried to lose herself in work at the campus café, but her mind kept replaying his words.
You just don’t want to call it what it is.
She hated that he was right.
When she came home that night, Asher was sprawled on the couch, typing something on his laptop. He didn’t look up as she passed, just muttered, “Dinner’s in the fridge.”
She stopped, frowning. “You cooked?”
“Pasta. Don’t make it weird.”
She smiled faintly, softening. “Thanks.”
As she heated up the food, the quiet between them felt heavy but not cold. Like they were both trying to hold something fragile between them without dropping it.
After a long silence, Ivy said quietly, “Do you think our parents will hear the rumors?”
“Probably,” he said. “But I’ll handle it.”
She turned, surprised. “You’ll handle it?”
He met her gaze. “Yeah. I’ll take the heat. You don’t deserve to deal with that.”
Her chest tightened. “You didn’t start it either.”
“I can take it,” he said simply. “You shouldn’t have to.”
There was something in his voice — quiet, protective — that made her throat ache.
⸻
The next day
The rumor hit social media.
A blurry photo of them walking home together — too close, too comfortable — posted with the caption:
“Sibling goals? Or something else 👀 #campusdrama”
By noon, half the student body had seen it.
Ivy sat frozen in the library, staring at her phone. Her heart pounded.
She wanted to disappear.
Then her phone buzzed — a text from Asher.
Meet me outside. Now.
She found him under the old oak tree behind the science building, pacing like a caged animal.
“This is insane,” she said, breathless. “I don’t even know who took that photo!”
“Doesn’t matter,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “They don’t care about truth. They just want a story.”
“Then what do we do?”
He looked at her for a long moment. “We ignore it.”
“I can’t just—”
“You can,” he said firmly. “Look at me.”
She did.
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “We know what this is. Let them think whatever they want. I’m not going to let some bored strangers make you feel ashamed for something that’s real.”
Her breath hitched. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”
“Why not? They’re true.”
Before she could reply, a group of students walked past, whispering. She felt her face burn.
Asher took her hand — quick, subtle — just enough to steady her.
“Breathe,” he murmured.
She did. And somehow, the world quieted again.
⸻
That evening
They sat on the balcony, the city lights glittering below.
Neither of them spoke for a long time.
Finally, Ivy said softly, “I don’t want to be your secret.”
He turned to her, eyes unreadable. “Then don’t be.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“It could be.”
She looked at him, really looked at him — the confidence in his posture, the softness in his eyes, the way his voice always softened when it came to her.
“It’s different for you,” she said. “You don’t care what people think.”
He smiled faintly. “I only care what you think.”
She swallowed. “And if what I think is that we’re headed for disaster?”
He leaned closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “Then I guess I’ll take the fall with you.”
⸻
Later, as Ivy lay in bed, she thought about everything that had happened — the rumors, the photo, the fear.
And the way Asher’s hand had felt in hers.
No matter how hard she tried to pull away, he always found a way to make her feel safe again.
And that, more than anything, terrified her.
- Writer
