Page 111 of The Ruthless Rivalry

Aubrey’s still beside me, but I know she’s got responsibilities. So after a quick hug and promise to catch up later, she rushes off, leaving me on my own for a bit.

The Ferris wheel stands tall and colorful in the distance, its bright lights flickering against the evening sky, a perfect mix of excitement and nostalgia. The thought of being up high, overlooking everything, feels like just what I need—a brief escape from the chaos below. Plus, with Aubrey’s stage set up nearby, I might even catch a glimpse of her improv show while I’m up here. It’s a win-win.

Without hesitation, I head in that direction, cotton candy still in hand, savoring the last few bites of sweetness.

I’m just settling into my seat, already feeling the slight sway of the pod, when Bishop appears next to me, sliding into the other open seat without a word.

I shoot him a sharp glare, the familiar irritation rising in my chest—so much for my moment of peace.

He doesn’t even acknowledge me, just stretches out and leans back as though he owns the entire Ferris wheel. Like I’m not even there.

“Really?” I bite out, not bothering to hide the annoyance in my voice. “You’re just going to invade my space like this?”

Bishop turns his head, eyes glinting with that arrogant gleam I’ve come to expect. A lazy smirk curves his lips. “You should be used to it by now, troublemaker,” he says, his voice smooth and mocking.

Before I can respond, a student appears at the entrance of the pod, ready to close the door. Bishop doesn’t even hesitate. With one fluid motion, he reaches into his pocket, pulls out a hundred-dollar bill, and tosses it in the kid’s direction like it’s pocket change.

The worker fumbles to catch it, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “Th-thank you! This’ll really help out with thedebate club’s resources!” he stammers, his grin nearly splitting his face in two.

“Don’t open this door until I signal,” Bishop says, his tone dangerously cool, like this is just another one of his little games. His confidence practically oozes from him. There’s no hesitation, no second thoughts. He’s in control.

The student, now holding the cash, nods eagerly, practically worshipping the ground Bishop walks on. “We really appreciate it!” he says, but Bishop interrupts with a casual flick of his wrist and without missing a beat, he slams the door shut with a force that makes the entire pod rock. The student on the other side stands there, momentarily frozen, the bribe still clutched in his hand as he watches us pull away.

I stare at Bishop, my jaw practically dropping. “You’re such an asshole,” I mutter under my breath, half-shocked and half-impressed by how easily he does this.

He meets my gaze, a smug look stretching across his face. “What can I say? He gets the donation, and I get what I want,” he says, his voice dripping with amusement. “Pretty simple transaction.”

I scoff in dismissal, unable to stop myself from shaking my head at how effortlessly he gets away with it. The guy has no boundaries, and he knows it.

The Ferris wheel jolts to life, the creaky metal groaning as it slowly starts to rise. I lean back in my seat, trying to distance myself from Bishop as much as possible. The seats are small, and there’s no escaping the fact that he’s sitting right next to me, but I do my best to ignore his presence.

I focus on the view instead—the carnival lights twinkling below, the buzz of laughter from the students scattered around, the distant music playing. But despite all of that, I can feel his eyes on me, like a weight I can’t shake. I try to slide away a little, shifting toward the edge of the pod, but it’s cramped, andhe doesn’t seem to care about the personal space I’m desperately trying to create.

He chuckles beside me, the sound low and amused.

I refuse to acknowledge him directly, instead watching the trees spread out beneath us as we rise higher. The night air is colder up here, the breeze brushing my face, and for a second, I start to feel the isolation I was hoping for. But then, as I glance out of the corner of my eye, I see Bishop pull something out of his pocket.

It’s my botany notebook.

I freeze for a split second, my stomach tightening. I haven’t seen that thing in weeks—not since he’dtakenit from me during my first week here at Altair.

He catches me staring and without hesitation, flips open to one of the pages. His fingers skim over the diagrams of the plants I’ve drawn, the notes I spent tireless hours perfecting, and I can’t help but feel irritated. There’s no acknowledgment, no apology—just his usual cocky attitude, completely unfazed by the fact that this ismine.

I glance down at my notebook, noticing a few pages are missing, showing the telltale jagged edges where they’ve been torn out.

“You really are into this stuff, huh?” Bishop says, his tone casual, as though he’s asking about the weather.

My eyes thin to slits, trying to figure out what game he’s playing now. His sudden nonchalance doesn’t fool me.

Then, without missing a beat, he gets to the point. “You owe me a favor.”

His voice is confident—too confident—as if he’s sure I’ll just roll over and do whatever he wants. The way he leans back in his seat, his posture relaxed but deliberate, makes it clearhe knowsI’m not going to refuse.

I open my mouth to respond, but before I can, the Ferris wheel creaks as it moves. The pod sways slightly, a subtle lurch that makes the whole thing feel just a bit less steady. I watch Bishop carefully, and for a brief second, his posture stiffens. He quickly adjusts, but there’s something there—a tension in his shoulders, something that wasn’t there a moment ago.

“I owe you a favor?” I ask with a scoff, trying to match his confidence but not fully buying into it. “I didn’t realize I was trapped in this pod with a comedian.”

“When have I ever made it seem like I’m joking?” His voice is smooth, sure, like he’s already got the upper hand.

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