Page 61 of The Ruthless Rivalry

Before I can respond, a familiar voice calls out.

“Alex?”

Aubrey barely acknowledges Christopher, her focus entirely on me as she steps outside. “Are you okay? You just took off.”

“Hey, Aubrey,” Christopher says, his tone a little too casual.

Aubrey doesn’t respond to him. She continues to look at me, her eyes scanning my face with a quiet concern, like she’s making sure I’m alright. When her gaze shifts to Christopher, it’s almost like an unspoken dismissal, though there’s something lingering in the way she looks at him—an unspoken history, a past that hangs between them.

“So I was just telling plant girl here that it’s my birthday, and I’m throwing a party at my parent’s shoreline house tonight.” He glances at Aubrey, his voice casual, almost as if he’s saying something obvious. “You remember where that is, right?”

Aubrey’s posture stiffens, just for a moment, but I catch it. Her eyes drop to the ground briefly.

Christopher, clearly picking up on the awkwardness, shoots me a teasing smile as if trying to smooth over the tension. “Anyway, I should get back,” he says with a wink before heading inside. Aubrey watches him go, her face unreadable, and I can’t shake the feeling that there’s a history there that I’m not seeing. A piece of the puzzle that’s missing.

I break the silence. “Well, that was…interesting.”

Aubrey doesn’t answer right away. She just shakes her head, like she’s weighing whether to say something more. After a beat, she turns toward the doors, clearly ready to move on. “Let’s go finish hanging the last of the posters.”

Right. That’s why I was up this early on a Saturday—fucking posters.

Chapter 14

Alex

Iwas finishing up in my bathroom, carefully adjusting the last touches of my makeup, when a knock echoed through my dorm room. I frowned slightly, still trying to perfect the way my eyeliner flicked. “Aubrey, can you get that?” I called out.

I went to add one final sweep of eyeliner, but my hand slipped, the tip of the pencil smudging on my eyelid. “Shit,” I muttered, grabbing a cotton swab to try to fix the mess.

I sighed and gave my eyelid another swipe, nailing it.Thank you, golden eagle at the gate!

Aubrey’s voice came through the main room, muffled but unmistakable. “It’s for you!”

Leaving the bathroom, I shot Aubrey a quick, confused look as I passed her, noticing the amused smirk on her face. I couldn’t help but shake my head as I walked toward the door, prepared to comment on how weird she was being all of a sudden. But the words died on my tongue the moment I opened the door.

There, standing casually in dark jeans and a tight, black shirt that hugged his toned frame, was none other than Bishop Ashbourne. Of course, he had to look this good. His messy hair, the confident stance, and the way his lips curled up in that infuriatingly perfect smirk. I could feel a rush of heat crawl up my neck.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, trying to sound as unaffected as possible, but even to me, my voice came off a little breathier than I intended.

Bishop’s smirk only deepened as he slowly pushed himself off the doorframe, looking at me with unmistakable arrogance. “You should know I’m not a fan of doors being slammed in my face, troublemaker,” he said, his voice smooth like velvet.

Before I could respond, we both heard a faint “sorry” from somewhere in my room, followed by the sound of Aubrey’s muffled footsteps.

I looked back at Bishop, still a little flustered, but refusing to let him see it. “Okay, but seriously, whyareyou here?” I asked again, my arms instinctively crossing over my chest.

Bishop didn’t answer right away. Instead, his gaze slowly dragged over me, lingering on my every curve. “Damn,” he muttered, his voice rough with that irritating, confident edge. “You look fucking hot.”

Before I could process his words, Aubrey’s voice rang out from somewhere in my room. “Told you, you looked good!” she shouted, openly eavesdropping.

I rolled my eyes, shooting a glare in her direction. “Thanks, Aubrey,” I muttered, before turning back to Bishop, trying toignore the heat rushing to my cheeks. He was still smirking, clearly enjoying every second of my reaction.

I let out an exaggerated sigh, my tone flat. “Bishop Ashbourne, what do you want?”

His eyes gleamed with amusement, unbothered. “I like the way you say my name,” he said, his voice dropping slightly. “Say it again.”

The words hit me like a sucker punch, and my breath caught in my throat. A strange warmth settled in my chest, and I cursed myself for feeling it. The way he said it, that cocky grin on his lips, made something twist deep inside me. But I quickly shook it off, fighting the wayward thoughts trying to take over.

Focus, Alex. Focus.

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