Chapter Twenty-Five: Carlotta's POV
1306 Words
I walked through the college entrance feeling like I was living in two different worlds. It had only been three days since I'd started here, but everything was moving so fast that my head was spinning.
Three days. Has it really only been three days?
Groups of students clustered around the hallways, their conversations buzzing with excitement about something that had clearly captured everyone's attention.
"Did you see that race footage?" one girl was saying to her friends as I passed by.
"Oh my god, yes!" another replied. "That anonymous rider was incredible!"
"I can't believe someone actually beat Gabriel Blackwood and Paxton Wolfe," a third voice added. "Those guys are legends!"
If only you knew, I thought, feeling a secret smile tug at my lips.
I kept walking, keeping my head down and my expression neutral, but inside I was glowing with pride. These students were talking about me - about what I'd accomplished last night - and they had no idea the hero of their conversations was walking right past them.
I actually did it. I actually won.
More groups were gathered around phones and tablets, watching what looked like race footage on social media. I caught glimpses of motorcycles speeding through city streets, but I was careful not to stare too long or show too much interest.
"Man, I wish I could ride like that," I heard a guy say as I walked by.
"You'd probably crash in the first turn," his friend laughed back.
You probably would, I agreed silently, remembering how difficult it had been to navigate through all the chaos and danger.
I was so lost in my thoughts and the secret satisfaction of listening to people praise my racing skills that I wasn't watching where I was going. I rounded a corner and walked straight into someone, my books scattering across the floor.
"Oh god, I'm so sorry!" I said immediately, dropping to my knees to gather my scattered papers and notebooks.
When I looked up to apologize properly, I found myself staring into the cold green eyes of Gabriel Blackwood. My heart jumped into my throat, and for a terrifying second I wondered if he somehow knew who I was.
Does he recognize me? Can he tell?
"Sorry," I repeated quietly, clutching my books to my chest.
Gabriel looked down at me with barely concealed irritation, his expression suggesting I was nothing more than an annoying obstacle in his path.
"Watch where you're going next time," he said dismissively, brushing past me without another word.
I watched him walk away toward what looked like the computer lab, his entire demeanor radiating arrogance and barely contained anger.
Still mad about losing, I see.
I shook my head and continued toward my first class, trying to push thoughts of Gabriel and the race out of my mind. I had more immediate concerns to worry about - like the email that had arrived on my phone early this morning.
Tonight. Midnight. Old pier warehouse district.
The prize collection instructions had been brief and cryptic, exactly what I'd expected from an underground racing organization. Fifty thousand dollars was waiting for me, but I'd have to be smart about collecting it without revealing my identity.
One problem at a time, Carlotta.
My first class was English Literature, and I slipped into a seat near the back, hoping to blend in with the other students and avoid any more unwanted attention.
But as Professor Martinez began discussing symbolism in Shakespeare, my mind kept drifting back to the money. Fifty thousand dollars. More than enough to get my own apartment, maybe even help Mama with her expenses.
Focus on class, I told myself. The money will still be there tonight.
But focusing proved impossible. The professor's voice seemed to fade into background noise as I imagined what financial independence would feel like. No more lying to Mama about where I was going. No more sneaking around. No more feeling trapped.
"Miss Russo?"
Professor Martinez's voice cut through my daydream like a knife. I looked up to find him staring at me expectantly, along with the rest of the class.
"Yes, sir?" I said, my cheeks burning with embarrassment.
"I asked what you thought about Hamlet's internal conflict in act three," he repeated patiently.
Hamlet's what now?
"I... um..." I stammered, realizing I hadn't been paying attention to a single word of the lecture.
"Perhaps you'd like to share with the class what's been occupying your thoughts instead of Shakespeare?" Professor Martinez suggested with raised eyebrows.
Definitely not.
"Sorry, Professor," I said quietly. "I was just... tired. Late night studying."
"I see," he said, clearly not believing me. "Please try to stay with us for the remainder of class."
"Yes, sir," I agreed, sinking lower in my seat.
The rest of the period crawled by at an agonizing pace. When the bell finally rang, I gathered my things quickly and headed for the door, eager to escape the embarrassment.
"Carlotta."
The sound of my name being called made me freeze. I turned around to see Paxton approaching with that confident stride and slight smirk that seemed to be his trademark.
What does he want now?
"Yes?" I said carefully, not sure what to expect.
"You seemed pretty distracted in there," Paxton observed, falling into step beside me as we walked down the hallway. "Still thinking about yesterday?"
"Yesterday?" I repeated, confused.
"Our kiss," Paxton said with a grin. "In the cafeteria. Don't tell me you've forgotten already."
Oh god. The kiss.
My cheeks flushed as I remembered his lips on mine, the way he'd used me to make Gabriel back off. The memory still sent confused feelings racing through my system.
"You're a terrible kisser," I said bluntly, surprised by my own boldness. "I wouldn't dare think about someone who kisses as horribly as you do."
Paxton's eyebrows shot up, and then he burst out laughing. "Wow. Harsh but honest. I like that."
"I'm so glad you approve," I said sarcastically.
"Do you know who you're talking to?" Paxton asked, his tone amused rather than offended.
"Yeah," I replied, feeling bolder by the second. "You're just like Gabriel. Arrogant, entitled, and nothing more."
Where is this confidence coming from?
Paxton's laughter got louder. "Damn, girl. I never thought the shy little freshman would have this much backbone."
"Maybe I'm learning," I said, lifting my chin defiantly.
"Learning from who?" Paxton asked curiously.
"From you," I replied. "Watching how you and Gabriel act has been very educational."
"Oh really?" Paxton said with obvious amusement. "And what exactly have you learned?"
"That some people think they can get whatever they want just by acting tough and intimidating others," I said.
"And you don't think that works?" Paxton asked.
"I think it makes you look like a bully," I said honestly.
Paxton was quiet for a moment, studying my face like he was seeing me for the first time. "You know what? You're right. And I'm sorry."
Wait, what?
"Sorry for what?" I asked, genuinely surprised by his change in tone.
"For kissing you without asking," Paxton said seriously. "For using you to make a point to Gabriel. That wasn't fair to you."
I stared at him, not sure how to respond to what seemed like genuine remorse. "Oh. Okay."
"I mean it," Paxton continued. "You didn't ask to get dragged into whatever Gabriel and I have going on."
If only you knew how deep I'm already in it.
"It's fine," I said quietly. "I understand why you did it."
"Still," Paxton said. "I should have—"
"Paxton!"
We both turned to see Marcus and Jake approaching, along with two other guys I recognized as part of Paxton's crew. They formed a loose circle around us, and I suddenly felt very small and outnumbered.
This doesn't look good.
- Writer
