Chapter 18: The stage
1019 Words
The scent of her--that jasmine and old library book smell--hit me harder than the hubbly smoke ever could.
I didn't pull out a notebook.
I didn't open a laptop.
I just sat there, leaned back with my arms crossed, and watched her.
Every few minutes, I'd catch her eye. I wasn't giving her the "smolder" or the "bad boy" look. I wasn't trying to look mysterious.
I was just... smiling.
A genuine, lopsided smile that felt weird and tight on my face. It wasn't part of the script. It wasn't a move I'd practiced in the mirror.
Maya tried to focus on the screen, her fingers flying across the keys with a frantic energy, but I saw her bite her lower lip to hide a grin.
She found me unbelievable.
I could see it in the way her shoulders shook slightly. She looked at me, shook her head with a look of pure exasperation, and then typed something into her notes that I'm fairly certain had absolutely nothing to do with the High Court's powers of review.
When the bell finally rang, the room erupted into the typical chaos of shuffling papers, zipping bags, and the collective exhale of three hundred bored students.
"You are officially insane," Maya said, packing her laptop into her bag with sharp, efficient movements. "You do realize that was a graded lecture? If he'd called on you to define ultra vires or explain the Wednesbury unreasonableness principle, you would have been cooked. Publicly."
"I would have just looked at you for the answer," I said, falling into step beside her as we exited the hall. "I figured the smartest person in the room would have my back. Isn't that what friends are for?"
"Don't count on it," she laughed. The sound was bright and clear, cutting through the heavy, stale academic atmosphere of the hallway. "I don't offer legal aid to trespassers."
We walked through the quad, the late afternoon sun hitting the red brickwork of the old buildings, casting long, dramatic shadows across the grass. I kept the humor going, throwing out jokes about the lecturer's prehistoric eyebrows and the sheer, soul-crushing boredom of the legal system.
I was on fire, my wit sharp, my timing perfect.
But as we reached the fountain at the center of the campus, I stopped. I turned to face her, the playfulness dropping away from my face like a discarded coat.
"Maya," I said, my voice dropping an octave, becoming serious for the first time all day. "Seriously. Everyone at this school has a version of me in their head. My mother has one. Jax has one. You, especially. You think I'm a cliché. A 'Hollow King' with nothing but a trust fund, a Lacrosse stick, and a script I read from every night."
She leaned against the stone rim of the fountain, the spray of water misting behind her. Her gaze searched mine, looking for the lie. "Aren't you? You haven't exactly proven otherwise, Cole."
"Come to my place tonight," I said. It wasn't a command; it wasn't the smooth, oily invitation I usually gave girls. It was a request. "Six o'clock. No scripts, no performance. No one else will be there. Just... come see my world. If I'm as hollow as you think I am after tonight, I'll never bother you again. I'll take the L and walk away."
She hesitated. I could see the lawyer in her weighing the pros and cons, looking for the hidden clause in the contract. "Cole, I hope you aren't getting any 'ideas.' I'm not interested in being another notch on your Lacrosse stick or a story you tell the boys over drinks."
"No ideas," I promised, holding up my hands in a gesture of surrender. "Just the truth. You said I leave in increments, Maya. You said I'm a preemptive striker. Come see what's left when the increments stop. Come see if there's actually a person under the crown."
After a long silence, she finally nodded. "Six o'clock. But I'm bringing my own car. If I'm bored within twenty minutes, I'm leaving."
"Fair enough."
I watched her walk away, her ponytail swinging with every confident step. My chest felt tight-not with the thrill of the hunt, or the rush of a successful "set," but with a weight I couldn't name.
It felt like I was standing on the edge of a cliff, and I was the one who had invited someone to push me.
I met Jax and Theo back at the parking lot. They were leaning against my truck, looking like two vultures waiting for something to die.
"The stage is set," I told them, my voice flat and business-like. "She's coming to my apartment at six."
Jax whistled, a long, low sound of approval. "The final move. The endgame. How are we going to know you actually closed the deal? We need proof, St. James. Real, undeniable proof. No more 'trust me' stories."
I looked up at my apartment building, the glass balconies reflecting the orange glow of the descending sun. "You want proof? Park in the lot across the street at six. You'll see her go in. Then y'all can go to your apartments. I'll bring the... used condom... first thing in the morning. That's the rule, right? Evidence of the deed."
"The sock and the story," Theo grinned, his teeth white in the twilight. "See you at dawn, King. Make it count."
Six o'clock came with a sudden, sharp chill in the air that seemed to rattle the windowpanes.
I'd spent the last hour cleaning my apartment. I didn't dim the lights to a "moody" level or put on a "seduction" playlist of slow R&B. I left the lights bright, surgical. I left my textbooks open on the dining table-actual Business Economics texts, highlighted with three different colors, dog-eared, and covered in my own scrawled notes.
When the buzzer finally rang, I felt a jolt of adrenaline that made my fingers twitch.
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