Page 39 of The Bleak Beginning

Atlas, still red-faced and sputtering, turns to Bishop. “And what, pray tell, was your role in this little escapade?”

Bishop shrugs, indifferent. “Just keeping an eye on things, sir. Making sure no one drowns in all the excitement.”

“How considerate,” Atlas replies dryly. Clearly, he was not amused by the impromptu turn of events. “Coach Barkley, doyou have anything to say for your students disrupting my class right as we were about to start a water exercise?” he shouts, striding towards the intimidating older man standing by the pier.

Hold on a second. What exactly were we about to start doing?

“Baby!” the girl with the chestnut hair saunters over and parks herself underneath Bishop’s arm. I take a quick step back to avoid getting in their way, but mostly I just want to put as much distance between myself and the water as possible.

“What’s the matter, Prescott?” Bishop calls out, his arm casually draped around the girl’s shoulder. “Afraid of a little water?”

I lie. “Of course not.”

“Then why don't you step up and lead everyone in?” Bishop challenges, gesturing towards the water with a subtle curl of his lip that has my skin flushing not just from annoyance.

Why did the hot ones always have the worst personalities?

I swallow hard, my eyes darting between Bishop's too attractive smug face and the gently lapping waves. The idea of wading into that water makes my pulse quicken, but I refuse to show any fear, especially in front of him.

I falter, my hesitation stretched out like an eternity. Every second feels like an hour, and I can feel the weight of his gaze bearing down on me.

“She won’t get any closer than she is now,” the girl comments, and I suddenly remember where I recognize her from. She was the one who made the snide comment at the assembly.

He raises his voice for everyone around us to hear, asking, “I think Prescott here is afraid of the water, Ophelia. Wouldn’t you agree?” She immediately nods and snuggles herself deeper underneath his arm. He appears less than interested in her actions, not once shifting his eyes off of me.

Now she didn’t mind being wet, her body securely wrapped around his, when not twenty minutes ago she was complaining about her shoes.

I force my body still, the mix of rage and helplessness churning in my chest. Bishop takes a step towards me, leaving Ophelia's grasp much to her dismay. His height, his stature, and everything else about him tower over me. “Go ahead,” he says as he lowers his chin behind me. “Get in the water. Or don’t and prove everyone right about the cowardice of the Prescott family.”

“I'm not a coward,” I snap back.

Bishop's eyes tighten with suspicion. “Prove it then,” he says with a sly, mocking edge. “Take a step forward. Just one.”

I can sense everyone’s gaze on me, except for the one person who could end this all. Atlas has turned away from me, engrossed in a heated argument with Coach Barkley near the dock.

I refuse to be intimidated, so I take a small step back. Bishop quickly mirrors my movement, blocking any chance for me to change my mind and move forward again.

Shit.

“Finished?” He asks, taunting like.

The smirk on Bishop's face is infuriating, and I want nothing more than to wipe it off and prove him wrong. So, I take one more step backwards, and he mirrors me, just like before. I repeat the action several more times, and each time he follows suit, as if we're performing some sort of twisted waltz together.

The water crashes against my legs, soaking through my shoes. I try to shake off my nerves, while Bishop seems completely at ease by the water's depth. I swallow hard and dig my heel into the sand beneath my feet. The sound of the waves crashing seems louder here; maybe there's a steep drop off nearby. But I can't bring myself to look down, not wanting to give Bishop any satisfaction of winning in this ridiculous game we're playing.

“All done?” he jests, attempting to further fray my already frazzled nerves.

I grit my teeth. “Not even close,” I lie, my voice wavering slightly. The water now laps at my knees, nearly soaking the bottom of my skirt. Each new wave sends a shiver of panic through me, but I force myself to stand my ground.

“Impressive,” he says, before his eyes tightened, a flicker of both interest and defiance passing through them. “Alright then, Prescott. Let's see how far you're willing to go.” He takes a large step back, forcing me to do the same.

It's now up to my thighs, and I can feel the current tugging at my legs. My heart is pounding so hard I'm sure Bishop can hear it over the sound of the waves.

I can't do this. I should turn back and head towards the shore; I've made my point. I should—

The breeze suddenly moves his thick brown locks, blowing them across his forehead as he exhales roughly down his nose. Something shifts across his expression as his strong torso continues to rise and fall, sharply with each new breath. I feel a hot flush spread across my body under his intense scrutiny.

What was going on? Why was he now looking at me like this, completely different from the seconds before? It almost seemed like he enjoyed seeing me so unsettled and scared.

---