Page 110 of The Ruthless Rivalry

“I mean, it’s just a game, right?” I add quickly, trying to push past the strange feeling in my chest. “And it’s not like I’m beingforcedinto anything. I get it, it’s a carnival game, not the end of the world.”

Aubrey shoots me a look, but I give her a small, reassuring smile. She doesn’t say anything, but I can tell she’s still unsure, maybe even a little annoyed by all the drama.

Bishop doesn’t seem to buy it, though. His eyes turn to slits as he watches me, like he’s not quite convinced by my words. He’s still looking at Camden with barely contained rage, but there’s a flicker in his gaze, a hint of something deeper I can’t quite place.It’s almost like he’s trying to figure me out, his gaze searching for something. But I won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing what I’m really feeling. The truth is, I don’t even know what I feel. One minute I’m mad at him, the next I’m…I don’t know. Confused? Frustrated? It doesn’t make sense, and I’m not about to let him see that.

I force a polite smile in Sylvester’s direction, not really feeling anything either way. “I think we’ll have a great time,” I say.

His eyes light up with genuine excitement, clearly pleased by my words. “That’s the spirit!” he exclaims, giving my shoulder a quick squeeze. “I promise you won’t regret it.”

I feel Bishop’s gaze burn into me with an intensity that’s hard to ignore. From the corner of my eye, I catch his fists clenched at his sides, but I don’t acknowledge it. I keep my focus on Sylvester, as if Bishop’s glare doesn’t even exist.

“So,” I say, keeping my tone casual, “what did you have in mind for this date?”

His grin widens, his eyes lighting up with a mischievous glint. “I’ve got a few ideas…”

“Cotton candy!” Aubrey suddenly cheers, her hand gripping my arm and pulling me away from the game. “I’ve got to grab one before I’m due on stage,” she says, practically dragging me toward the stand with a wide smile.

Aubrey’s eyes brighten at the mention of her performance, her energy practically bubbling over as she skips toward the cotton candy stand. “I can’t wait to see who volunteers. It’s always so much fun to work with new people!”

She’s been talking about it nonstop since we finished setting up, buzzing with excitement over including students outside the Actors Guild in the live performance.

As we approach the cart, my eyes are transfixed by the fluffy pink and blue clouds of sugar being spun before us.

Sylvester suddenly steps up to the vendor, flashing his charming smile. “Four cotton candies, please,” he says, pulling out his wallet.

“You don’t have to—” I start to protest, but he waves me off.

“My treat,” he insists, handing over the money. “Consider it a pre-date snack,” he adds, handing one to Aubrey and then to me, his grin widening as he passes it over.

I glance down at the sugary concoction in my hand, then raise an eyebrow. “What will you do with the other two?” I ask, noting the two remaining cones still in his grip. Aubrey has already started devouring hers like a wild animal.

“One’s for Sutton and the other for my parents,” he explains, his voice light. “I dare you to watch my mother’s reaction when I offer her pure sugar,” he says with a smirk, gesturing over his shoulder toward the group of Legacy parents who are chatting casually in the distance.

It feels odd to realize they’re here—somehow I hadn’t even noticed. But I suppose it makes sense, given who they are.

“Don’t you want one?” I ask, plucking a clump of soft, pillowy goodness from my own cone.

He bends down and takes a leisurely bite straight from my fingers, his eyes glinting. “I thought we could share,” he says with a wink before jogging off to give the other sweets to his parents and sister.

He’s gone, and I can still feel the faint warmth of his lips lingering on my fingertips. Aubrey perks a brow at me, her mouth too full of cotton candy to speak, but her expression says it all.

“Don’t start,” I warn her, taking a too-large bite of the sugary treat to hide my face.

Aubrey smirks, but thankfully, she doesn’t say anything more. I’m sure she’s got a million things to say, but she’s smart enough not to push it. She knows I’m not exactly into whatever gameSylvester is playing. Not like that, anyway. I’m not sure I could ever look at him that way—he’s fun, sure, but he’s not the kind of guy I’m interested in.

As we watch him approach his parents, I can’t help but notice Bishop lingering nearby, chatting with his mother.

I feel the weight of someone’s stare before I see it—sharp and unsettling, like standing in sunlight too long and only realizing it after your skin starts to burn. I expect to find Bishop watching me—and maybe he is—but it’s not his gaze I catch first. It’s hers.

His mother’s eyes are on me. She’s watching—calm, curious—like she knows something I don’t. Then she shifts her attention to her son.

She says something low to him, something I can’t hear, and it pulls his focus immediately—snapping his attention away from whatever, or whoever, had him distracted. Could’ve been me, but I glance away before I can confirm it.

Mrs. Oliveri’s face contorts in a mix of horror and shock when her son presents her with the cotton candy. She takes it gingerly, holding it as though it might spontaneously combust, while Mr. Oliveri bursts into hearty laughter, clearly enjoying the scene. “It’s just sugar, Mom.” Sylvester laughs. “It won’t bite.”

Mrs. Oliveri squints at the cotton candy as if it’s some sort of foreign object, clearly unsure how to handle it. “Well, it’s certainly…fluffy,” she says slowly, like she’s trying to figure out how it works, before cautiously taking a small bite. Her face scrunches up as if she’s trying to decide whether she likes it or not.

Meanwhile, Sutton beams with gratitude as her twin hands her her own cotton candy. But when her eyes meet her mother’s, her smile falters slightly, and I notice a tiny wrinkle form on her nose. She hands the treat to Camden, who eagerly grabs it and starts nibbling at the sugary goodness as if it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.

---