Page 44 of Redeeming the Villain

“Hi!” I call out, my voice giddy.

He starts climbing the steps, two at a time, and he meets me halfway on the first landing, wrapping his arms around me and gently picking me up.

The aroma of citrus and burning wood—nostalgic and familiar—floods my nose, replacing Malik’s overbearing scent. I breathe him in as he slowly lowers me back to the ground.

“How are you feeling? Still up for a quick bite or coffee or something? I’m totally down for cruising a bit, too, like old times.” He smiles, his blue eyes bright with joy.

After Malik’s heated confrontation, I’m suddenly feeling a lot more tired than I was beforehand. “Honestly, cruising sounds great. But nothing too crazy. Straighter roads, please,” I request with a shy grin.

Guilt at requesting anything because of my illness seeps into my chest, as it always has. I hate feeling like a burden, like I’m hindering someone else’s day.

“Sounds great to me.” He winks and offers me his arm to help me down the rest of the stairs.

“How were your flights? Good?” I grab my water bottle from my purse and take a sip through the spill-proof straw.

He nods, stepping ahead of me and getting the car door. “They were actually. But I slept during most of them.”

“I would too.” I chuckle, knowing all too well how I handle flights. With a sleepy drug and a fat nap.

“After you.”

He holds the door open for me, and I slide inside, the custom starry roof glittering above me.

Politely shutting the door behind me, he walks around to his side of the car and gets in the driver’s seat. “Away we go.”

He pulls around the fountain and out of the driveway, and we fall into conversation as if we saw each other yesterday.

Tate McRae plays through the speakers as he tells me how the last couple of months have been for him since I left.

He fills me in on his ex, who he recently broke up with. How transferring to HEAU was a business decision and not because he wanted to flee to the other side of the world to get away from her.

Apparently, his dad wants him to take on more responsibilities with his family—the opposite thing he wants. Which is why he’s here. His father supported this, as any parent would—but especially those who care more about public opinion and image than they do their own children’s happiness.

Our fathers are the reason we bonded right away, getting along on the disdain for them. But we stayed friends because we liked spending time together.

I remember the first time we went out in public together in Italy. Our photo at lunch ended up in the news. Headlines were everywhere, likePolitical Alliance Forming? Daughter of Congressman Briarwood and Son of Senator Stephens—a Match Made in Heaven.

But I’ve never thought of Phillip that way. He’s my friend, and that’s all I want him to be. Is he cute? Sure, yeah. He’s hot. But there’s no spark, no jolt when we touch. It’s platonic.

I also fill him in on the last few months of chaos. Specifically going into detail on the last two weeks after running into Malik.

Phillip, of course, has his own opinion of him, and I know he’s not wrong.

But there was a moment today, a brief second, when it was like I saw a glimpse behind the fortress. But as fast as it appeared, it was gone.

I keep today’s outburst to myself, unsure if I want him to know where Malik lives in case he decides to try to play hero.

He may be my closest friend, but I worry that he might try to confront Malik about everything, which is the last thing I want.

Unfortunately, he’ll only be here for a day or so before traveling to the Bahamas for a family vacation, but he’ll be back soon.

We spend the next hour or so just driving around and chatting about anything and everything, and by the time we head back to my dorm, I’m exhausted.

He pulls up in front of the building, putting the car in park and turning my way. “I missed you, Lore.”

“I missed you too.” Pulling him into a hug over the middle console, I squeeze him tight.

My eyes burn slightly, and my body settles against his. It’s been a while since someone other than my aunts hugged me so tightly. Sometimes, I forget how starved I am for physical touch.

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