Page 55 of The Ruthless Rivalry

Bishop looks bored, the smirk never leaving his face. He looks like he’s waiting for something to happen, a bored observer at his own drama.

“You really are something, aren’t you?” she scoffs, her voice dangerously low. “You can’t really be breaking up with me right now.”

Bishop barely reacts, his expression unchanged. A slight smirk curls at his lips as he glances at her, dripping with a mix of boredom and arrogance.

“Ophelia, don’t kid yourself. I’ve been over you for a while now,” he says, his voice casual, as if explaining something obvious. “I just thought it’d be more fun this way.”

“Fun?Fun?” she seethes, her anger rising.

Bishop merely shrugs, the corner of his mouth lifting. “What can I say? I like to keep things interesting.”

Her eyes dart to me, and the moment she sees me, the rage shifts, settling into a more malicious, calculated fury. Her smile is cold, sharp. “I saw you, you know. You and Sylvester at the natatorium. Under the awning, just earlier.”

I feel the sting of Ophelia’s words, but it’s not the first time. Still, something about the accusation feels different now. It makes me feel exposed, vulnerable, even though I know I didn’t do anything wrong. In a twisted way, I’m a victim here, same as her. But Ophelia’s venom is as sharp as a whip, aimed squarely at me.

Bishop’s eyes shift, a small change in his expression that signals the first flicker of interest throughout this entire mess. It’s not directed at Ophelia, not at the breakup, but at something else—something new. His chin tilts slightly, a barely noticeable gesture, but it’s enough to change the dynamic.

Ophelia, sensing the change, looks toward him, but he doesn’t react. His gaze lingers on me instead, drawn to the accusation she just hurled my way.

I’m confused. The guy literally just broke up with her in front of me, and now he’s acting like I’m the only one who matters. The intensity in his eyes isn’t something new, but there’s something different about it now. More focused, more…possessive, maybe? It’s hard to ignore, especially when I shouldn’t care at all. But here I am, caught under the weight of his gaze, trying to make sense of why it affects me, even though I know better.

Bishop’s eyes stay locked on me, the intensity in them growing, and his voice cuts through the air, casual but laced with something harder, something commanding. “Is that true?”

There’s a shift in his posture, as if he’s measuring my response, gauging how I’ll handle this. His gaze doesn’t waver, doesn’t soften. It’s like he’s daring me to deny it.

It’s unsettling, how easily he pulls me into his orbit with just a glance and a question.

“It’s true. I saw them,” Ophelia confirms, and I notice a slight tic in his jaw, but other than that, he gives nothing away.

Then, without warning, Bishop takes a step back, his eyes flicking briefly to Ophelia before returning to me. He tilts his head slightly, the rain dripping down his face as he stands there, completely unfazed by the downpour. It’s like he’s in his own world, completely detached from everything happening around him. The cool, casual arrogance in his demeanor makes my pulse spike.

“Is that so?” he says, his voice faint, as if he’s not speaking to anyone in particular. It’s almost like he’s talking to himself, yet I feel every word like a challenge. “Well, isn’t that a fun new development.”

I don’t bother confirming or denying her statement. Instead, I lift my chin, continuing to hold his gaze without hesitation. There’s a stubbornness in me that refuses to break, and I know he’s the same. We’re like a pair of locked gates, refusing to open and find a way through. Let him think what he wants. Nothing happened, and even if it had, it’s none of his business.

Bishop doesn’t wait for a response, just turns away, walking down the shoreline, his shoes squelching in the wet sand, as if he’s the one controlling the pace of this entire situation—like he always does.

Chapter 13

Alex

“Are you ready to put up some posters?” Aubrey chirps, much too enthusiastic for the early hour of the morning.

Why did I agree to do this with her again? Wandering around campus didn’t seem like the most exciting way to spend my weekend.

I stifle a yawn and nod halfheartedly. “Sure, let’s get this over with.”

Aubrey gives a playful laugh, her eyes twinkling with humor. “Come on, it’ll be fun! Plus, we’re helping a good cause.”

Yeah, yeah. She had already explained to me yesterday afternoon that this carnival was a fundraiser for all the clubs and organizations here at Altair. It was a way for everyone to come together and support each other by raising money. To be honest, I didn’t pay much attention to the details at the time, since I was more focused on trying to remove the last of the stains from the fountain while freezing water drenched my arms.

“Where should we start?” I ask, hoping Aubrey has some sort of plan.

She pauses, scanning the quiet campus. Most students are still asleep, lucky them. “How about the library? Lots of foot traffic there.”

We make our way into the imposing building. The gothic library interior is a grand, cavernous space filled with towering bookshelves that seem to stretch up to the ceiling and beyond. The dark wood of the shelves is adorned with intricate carvings of our eagle mascot and other fantastical lines of design. The arched windows are tall, and the glass casts a dim, ethereal light throughout the room.

As we head further inside, I notice a bulletin board near the entrance, plastered with various announcements and advertisements.

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