Chapter 12
1294 Words
By the time lunch rolled around, I already knew two things.
First, Blaire was not going to let the hallway incident go.
Second, I needed to shut it down before it escalated.
The cafeteria was louder than usual, conversations bouncing off the high ceilings, trays clattering against tables. Normally I tuned it out. Today I scanned the room immediately.
I found her without trying.
Emery sat beside Callie, barely touching her food. Her fork moved things around her tray like she was pretending to eat, but her shoulders were tight, her posture slightly guarded. She did not look up when I walked in, which told me she knew I was there.
She was choosing not to look.
Fine.
Distance was safer.
Before I could decide whether to sit near her or avoid her entirely, Blaire slid into the seat across from me as if she had been waiting for her cue.
“Well hey there, handsome,” she said smoothly, leaning closer. “Last night was fun. It was almost one person too crowded though.”
I kept my expression neutral. “What about last night?”
Her smile widened, assuming control. “I enjoyed your family dinner, it makes me feel like we are one family. And.... You walked me to my car.”
“I barely said goodbye,” I replied evenly. “Why would you think you’re that special, Blaire?”
The confusion on her face was almost satisfying.
“What do you mean?” she asked. “We’re together.”
“No,” I said flatly. “We’re not. Just because we’ve slept together before does not mean we ever were.”
I felt it before I saw it.
Across the cafeteria, Emery’s head lifted slightly.
She was watching.
From her angle, it probably looked intimate. Blaire leaning in. Me speaking quietly. A private conversation.
That was not the image I wanted her to have.
Blaire leaned closer again, lowering her voice as if she still had leverage.
I leaned forward first.
“You corner her again,” I said calmly, keeping my tone steady enough not to draw attention, “and I will personally ruin your reputation at Rosenberg.”
Her composure cracked for a fraction of a second.
“You remember the donor gala?” I continued. “Your father suggesting grades to Professor Ellery. Mateo heard it. I heard it. I don’t bluff.”
Her fingers tightened around her glass.
“One call,” I added quietly, “and every internship board you care about will hear about how you treat volunteers. Stay away from Emery.”
I leaned back as if we had just discussed weekend plans.
Across the room, Emery was still watching.
From where she sat, it probably looked like we belonged together. Like we were sharing secrets.
The thought twisted something low in my chest.
Better she thinks I’m an asshole than realize how close I am to losing control over her.
Blaire smoothed her hair, recovering quickly. “You’re overreacting,” she said lightly.
I did not respond.
I stood, grabbed my tray, and walked away.
The day did not slow down after that.
By late afternoon, I was at the shelter staring at a schedule that looked like a disaster. Two employees called in sick within an hour of each other. Flu, supposedly. It did not matter. I was short staffed.
I needed coverage.
And I knew Emery’s schedule because I had memorized it the first week she started volunteering. Not for creepy reasons. Practical ones. I ran the shelter. I needed to know who was available, who was reliable.
She had sociology in the afternoon.
Except she skipped it.
I knew because I had checked when she did not answer her phone the first time.
The second time.
The third time.
Ryker leaned against the doorway while I paced with my phone in my hand.
“She’s probably in class,” he said.
“She skipped sociology,” I replied without thinking.
He raised an eyebrow. “You stalking the attendance sheets now?”
“I needed to know if she could cover tonight,” I said, which was technically true.
What I did not say was that her not answering made something feel wrong in my chest.
I called again.
Voicemail.
“Call Callie,” Ryker said.
I did.
Callie answered quickly. When I asked where Emery was, there was a pause before she said, “Self-defense.”
That caught me off guard. Emery had mentioned the class before, but she never sounded enthusiastic about it.
“She didn’t want to go,” Callie added carefully. “I made her.”
“Is she okay?” The question slipped out before I could stop it.
“She’s not herself,” Callie said. “If you show up, don't be a dick.”
I hung up and grabbed my keys.
“I’m coming,” Ryker said.
“No,” I replied immediately. “I need you here. In case I can’t convince her to come back.”
He studied me for a second, then nodded. “Text me.”
I did not promise anything.
The gym doors opened, and the smell of rubber mats hit me.
I spotted her immediately.
She stood near the back wall, moving through drills slower than everyone else. Her shoulders were tight. Her movements cautious.
The instructor reset the exercise.
Her partner reached for her wrist.
She flinched.
It was not subtle.
It was not nerves.
It was a freeze.
My chest tightened.
I had seen that before. Years ago. My mother, before therapy, before stability, before my father helped rebuild what someone else had broken.
That quiet bracing for impact.
Emery pushed through the drill, but she was not fully present. Her confidence from that morning in the quad was gone.
And I hated it.
I crossed my arms and leaned against the wall, forcing myself not to step in. If I intervened, she would shut down completely.
Instead, I did what I knew would get a reaction.
“If you move any slower, they’re going to start charging you rent for that mat,” I called out.
Her head snapped toward me immediately.
“Shut up, Nico!”
There she was.
Her partner lunged again.
This time she pivoted hard and drove her fist forward with enough force to echo across the room.
Good.
Stay angry. Stay here.
When the instructor called time, I walked over.
“You’re not answering your phone,” I said evenly.
“Why are you here?” she demanded.
“Because I need help at the shelter,” I replied. “We’re short staffed and you skipped sociology.”
Her eyes narrowed. “How do you know I skipped?”
“I run a schedule,” I said simply. “You’re on it.”
That was true.
It just was not the whole truth.
Callie stepped up beside us. “You’re going,” she told Emery.
Emery sighed, exhausted but still defiant. “Fine. One shift.”
Relief hit me harder than I expected.
As we walked out of the gym together, just the two of us now, the parking lot quieter than the gym had been, I felt something unfamiliar settle in my chest.
Nervous.
I did not get nervous.
But being alone with her after seeing that flinch, after threatening Blaire, after realizing I had memorized her schedule for reasons that were no longer strictly professional, made the silence feel heavier than it should have.
I glanced at her.
She stared straight ahead.
And all I could think was that whatever happened to make her freeze like that, I was going to find out.
Because I was not going to let her go through it alone.
- Writer
