Page 100 of The Bleak Beginning

“Look, I know we’re not friends. I know you hate me and the other Legacies. But,” he says, his tone gentler now, “I’m also not going to leave you out here alone. So we can either stay here until we both turn into prunes, or you can let me help you.”

I bite my lip, weighing my options. Pride wars with practicality, and for a moment, I’m tempted to choose the prune option out of sheer stubbornness.

A sudden intensity sparks in Sylvester’s gaze, but I’m too lost in my thoughts to truly notice. It’s not until I feel his thumb pulling my lip from between my teeth that I snap back to reality. His piercing eyes hold mine for a moment too long.

“Stop that,” he murmurs, his voice husky. “It’s…distracting.”

I’m suddenly acutely aware of how close we are, his arm still wrapped around my skin, our bodies pressed together in the pool.

“I’m not trying to be,” I admit and I notice how his face is suddenly a whirlwind of conflicting emotions—fear, anger, and something else I can’t quite name.

His thumb lingers against my lip, his gaze intense as if he’s weighing something in his mind, fighting with himself over whatever it is he’s feeling. I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s like he’s on the edge of making a decision he doesn’t want to face.

“You’re not—” he starts, but then he hesitates, his words trailing off as though he’s struggling to find the right ones.

The confusion is still there, evident in his eyes, but he doesn’t say another word. His arm around me feels different now—less like protection and more like a reminder of the unspoken distance between us. He’s a Legacy. I refuse to be associated with them.

For a moment, we stay frozen, the tension in the air growing thicker. His eyes are still locked on mine, but I can’t shake the feeling that something’s changed, that whatever was here between us moments ago is hanging by a thread.

“Sly,” a voice calls out, followed by the faint sound of a door closing in the background.

He blinks, and the moment passes. He lets out a choppy breath and moves us forward, guiding us back to the edge of the pool with slow, deliberate movements.

“I brought you your—oh! Alex?”

I whip my head around to see Sutton standing at the head of the pool. Her eyes widen in surprise, darting between Sylvester and me. I can see the wheels turning in her head, trying to make sense of the scene before her.

“What’s going on?” she asks, her voice laced with suspicion.

Sylvester releases me abruptly, and I grab onto the edge of the pool, grateful for the support. He swims to the opposite side, pulling himself out with practiced ease, like he’s done it a thousand times before.

“Alex nearly went two for two trying to drown herself,” he explains, running a hand through his wet hair. “And I figured Chancellor Maxwell wouldn’t appreciate it if one of her students turned up dead.”

I ignore the dig and force myself to move, heading to the ladder and climbing out. Water cascades off me, and I feel exposed in my wet, clinging swimsuit, and I’m not sure why.

Sutton’s eyes thin, her gaze flicking between us as if trying to piece together a puzzle. “Riiight,” she says, drawing out the word. “And you just happened to be here at the exact moment Alex decided to take an ill-advised swim? At this hour?”

I open my mouth to speak, but Sylvester beats me to it.

“I was already at the building when I buzzed your watch,” he says smoothly, grabbing a towel from a nearby chair and draping it over his shoulders. “I can’t help it if she followed me in here.”

Sutton raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it.

I bristle at his words, indignation rising in my chest. “I didn’t follow you,” I snap, wringing water from my hair. “I came here to…practice.” The truth feels clumsy on my tongue, but I forge ahead. “I didn’t even know you were here.”

Sylvester’s eyes flash with something—surprise? annoyance?—before a smirk settles across his face. “Right, because midnight is the perfect time for swim practice.”

“You would know,” I reply swiftly. He was here at this hour too, wasn’t he?

“Whatever you say,” he says, his tone maddeningly nonchalant. “But maybe next time, practice when there’s actually a lifeguard on duty.”

I clench my fists, fighting the urge to snap at him. The air between us is charged, the atmosphere from moments ago morphing into something more volatile.

Sutton clears her throat, breaking the standoff. “Right, well, as fascinating as this little midnight rendezvous is, we should probably get going, Sly.” She turns to me, with a curt nod. “Alex.”

As Sutton and Sylvester walk away, I’m left standing there, dripping and shivering. The adrenaline from my near-drowning is wearing off, replaced by a bone-deep exhaustion. I wrap my arms around myself, trying to ward off the chill that’s settling in.

The sound of the door closing echoes in the now-empty pool area, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the smooth lapping of the water.

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