Page 65 of The Ruthless Rivalry

“I don’t think you know half the trouble you’ve caused me since you first showed up at Altair,” he adds quietly, almost to himself.

I blink slowly, trying to make sense of it, but the alcohol fuzzes up my brain. And instead of responding to the strange weight in his words, I just stare at him with a drunken grin.

“Well,someonecontinues to think way too highly of himself,” I slur, taking a step closer, trying to look more serious. “You know, you’re basically a human selfie. Always trying to look perfect. I think the mirror’s getting jealous of you.”

I stumble slightly as I say it, and giggle at my own joke. But in the back of my mind, something feels off, like I almost should have said something else, something more meaningful. But whatever. Bishop’s always being way too smug.

I tilt my head at him, then glance back at the eyeglasses in my hands. I hold them up between us, my fingers lightly brushinghis chest as I squint at them. “Plum isn’t really my color, you know,” I say, my words dragging more than usual.

Bishop raises an eyebrow, amused but clearly not taking me too seriously. “Oh? And what is your color, then?”

Without waiting for his answer, I slide the glasses onto his face and push them above his nose, my hands a little more forceful than I intended. He doesn’t resist. In fact, he just lets me do it, and there’s something oddly trusting about that.

For a moment, I freeze, my fingers lingering on the glasses resting on his face. It’s close—too close, maybe. My breath catches, and there’s that familiar feeling stirring in my chest again. His eyes are so green—and the glasses, surprisingly, seem to make them even more striking. I blink a few times, my drunken thoughts tangled together.

Then, his hand rests gently on top of mine, where my fingers have settled on the glasses, as if holding them in place. It’s a small gesture, but it feels heavy somehow, and I can’t look away from his gaze.

There’s an undeniable tension between us, but it’s not just physical. It’s something deeper, something I don’t have words for, especially not with my head spinning.

I manage to step back a little, suddenly aware of how close we are. I clear my throat and force a grin. “You know, the glasses—actually, they kind of work on you,” I say, my voice a little unsteady. “Makes your green eyes pop.”

Bishop’s grin spreads a little wider. “Yeah? Well, green’s actually become my favorite color recently.”

I snort, blinking up at him, confused by the sudden shift in his tone. “Recently? How do you just…suddenly change your favorite color? Like, what, one day you woke up and decided it was green?”

He chuckles softly, leaning in a little, his gaze flicking to the soft strands of my blonde hair that fall around my face. “Yeah,guess it happens when you see something that makes it stand out.”

I blink a few times, still processing Bishop’s words, but the sensation of his hand on mine is making it harder to focus.

But then, I suddenly remember something. Excitedly, I point at my wrist. “Like my wristband,” I say brightly, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. “See, it’s green! Means I’m single!”

Bishop’s smirk falters for just a moment, his brows pinching slightly, but I don’t catch it. Instead, I’m too focused on the wristband and the green color on my arm. I glance at him, then back at the empty space on his wrist. Wait—he doesn’t have one.

I squint at him, noticing the lack of a wristband. “Wow, no wristband? You Legacies really do think you’re above everything, huh? Couldn’t even follow one simple rule,” I grumble.

He chuckles, his voice laced with that cocky edge I’ve come to expect from him. “Why follow the rules when you can make your own?”

I stare, still slightly fuzzy from the alcohol, but that doesn’t stop me from feeling a mix of frustration and curiosity. “Well, even Ophelia followed the rules. She wore a yellow wristband,” I say matter-of-factly. Proud of myself for remembering.

At the mention of Ophelia, I notice Bishop’s expression flicker, just for a second. His smile fades, and his jaw tightens slightly. He sighs, his voice a little colder now. “Is that really what you want to talk about?”

I pause, not realizing I’ve said something that’s clearly got under his skin. “No! I don’t— that’s not what I meant—” I wave my hands in the air like I’m dismissing it entirely. “I just— Wait, what color wouldyouhave picked?” I ask innocently, leaning toward him with wide eyes. “Like, based on the party thing, you know. Green, yellow, or red?”

He raises an eyebrow at me, clearly intrigued by my question, but there’s a slight edge to his voice as he responds. “You want to know whatIwould’ve chosen? Based on the rules of the party?”

I nod, all too serious in my drunken state. “Yeah! You know, like green means single, yellow means it’s complicated, and red means you’re taken. Which one would you go for?”

Bishop’s gaze sharpens, like he’s weighing me, his lips curling into another small smirk. “What color doyouthink I should choose?”

I squint up at him, trying to piece it together. “Well…I mean, I’m guessing you’resingle, right?” I pause, as if considering the possibility. “So…green? I’d say green.”

Bishop leans back a little, clearly amused by my assumption. “Oh yeah?”

“Well, youdidjust say that green’s your new favorite color.” I pause for effect, then add, “I mean, that’s kind of a giveaway.”

Bishop’s chin dips slightly, a flicker of annoyance that he quickly masks with his signature cocky grin. “Is that so?”

I tilt my head to the side. “You know, it’s not a big leap. And you even mentioned it, like…two minutes ago.”

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