Page 76 of The Ruthless Rivalry

He was always the most supportive of our small group when it came to trying to understand my passion. Sly, though, had never been shy about his doubts. “You really think this is going to work out? Art doesn’t exactly have a clear future,” he’d said more than once, his voice full of skepticism, just like our parents. “This isn’t practical, Sutton,” my mom had said when I first told them I was switching my major. “You can’t just throw away everything you’ve worked for.” Dad didn’t voice his concerns as loudly, but I could tell by his silence that he thought I was making a mistake. They’d always pushed for something more stable, something more “real.” It was frustrating, but after months of trying todefend my decision, I’d stopped bothering. We simply weren’t going to agree on this.

But Cam—Cam never hesitated. While everyone else seemed to question me, his support remained quiet but unwavering. He’d been through things none of us could fully understand, things that had changed him, made him softer, in a way. Not that he didn’t still have sharp edges, especially with people like Alex. But with us? He seemed to know what it meant to not take anything for granted. Maybe that’s why he was always there when I needed him most.

I pause briefly, tapping my fingers on my lap. “It’s still in the early phases. I’m not sure if it’ll pan out yet.”

“Is it for the carnival?” Cam inquires with interest. “You know, the archery club is hosting a game we call ‘Fun Shot.’ We’re going to have a board set up near our booth and participants can shoot arrows at clear bulbs containing slips of paper. The prize inside depends on which bulb you break.”

Sly snorts, “What’s the grand prize, a list of recommended hair product suggestions?”

“Even better,” Cam replies nonchalantly. “The winner gets to go on a date with me,” he adds with a bold wink.

“Is this why you wanted to try this place?” I ask with a grin. “Scoping out the scene before your lucky date joins you? Trying to make sure the place is good enough to impress?”

Cam laughs, a rich sound that fills the car. “Please, as if I need to impress anyone. I’m a catch, and everyone knows it.”

Sly snorts, smirking. “Yeah, unlike this one, who never seems to go out on a date.”

I scoff, shooting back quickly. “I’m selective, thank you very much. I don’t just date anyone who flashes a smile. Besides, who needs men when I have my one true love? Art.”

“Yeah, right. As if art is ever going to take you out to dinner or—”

“At least art has never walked away from me,” I cut him off, throwing him a pointed look.

I lean in a little closer, relishing the discomfort on his face, and my mind drifts back to that night outside the natatorium. The night Sly had confided in me, explaining how things went down with Alex—how it ended, and how he was still trying to piece it all together.

As we pull into the parking lot of Nebula’s Noodles, the neon sign casts an eerie blue glow over our faces. The restaurant’s exterior is a mishmash of futuristic designs and retro diner aesthetic, somehow managing to look both cutting-edge and nostalgic at the same time.

“Well, this place certainly lives up to its name,” my brother mutters as we step out of the car.

The interior is even more bizarre, with swirling galaxy patterns on the ceiling and tables shaped like flying saucers. As we’re led to our booth by a waiter wearing a silver jumpsuit, I can’t help but feel like we’ve stepped onto the set of a low-budget sci-fi film. I’ve lived here my entire life, same as the other Legacies, and I’ve never come across something as unique as this in the town of Altair or on campus, and I kind of am in love with it.

“So, about this design of yours,” Cam says, picking up where we left off in the car before the conversation shifted to what none of us were ready to talk about—what happened back in the dining hall. “Is it something for the carnival, or is the art club doing portraits again?”

I hesitate for a moment, running my fingers along the edge of the metallic menu. “I’ve been toying with an idea for something different this year. I’ve been thinking about creating interactive light installations—maybe something like glowing sculptures that people could walk through and, I don’t know, maybe even manipulate in some way.”

Sly raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued despite himself. “That sounds ambitious. How exactly would that work?”

“Well,” I begin, feeling a spark of excitement as I try to explain, “I’m still figuring out the details, but I’m thinking of using a mix of LED strips, motion sensors, and translucent materials. The idea is that when people move through the space, their movements would trigger changes in the light patterns. It’s kind of like…painting with light and movement, but I’m still ironing out the kinks.”

Cam’s eyes light up. “That sounds incredible! It’s like everyone becomes part of the art.”

“Exactly,” I nod, feeling a surge of excitement. “And at the end of the night, we could project the entire day’s light patterns onto a large screen, creating a unique, collaborative piece of art that represents the entire carnival experience.”

“That sounds impressive,” Sly admits, a hint of genuine admiration in his voice. “But will that be within the art clubs’ budget to set up?”

I nod, my enthusiasm dimming slightly. “But here’s the thing: the materials are pricey, and we’ll need a significant amount of space. I’m still working on how to present it to the other club members and the rest of Altair University’s board without sounding like a complete joke. You know how Maxwell feels about anything related to technology.”

“You know,” Cam says thoughtfully, twirling a strand of his perfectly coiffed hair, “I might be able to help with that. The archery club has a pretty big budget this year, thanks to our recent tournament wins. Maybe we could collaborate.”

I don’t have a chance to reply as our waiter suddenly reappears, still looking like he just stepped off a spaceship. It’s entertaining, and I always admire a strong dedication to a theme.

“That’s actually a really great idea,” I say, my mind already racing with possibilities. “A fusion of art and athletics could be just what we need to get the board’s attention.”

The waiter clears his throat, reminding us of his presence. “Greetings, earthlings,” the waiter intones in a robotic voice. “What sustenance shall I procure for you this evening?”

I can’t help but giggle at his commitment to the bit, while Sly clucks his tongue in dismissal.

“I’ll have the Black Hole Burger,” Sly says, barely glancing at the menu. “Medium rare, if you can manage that in zero gravity.”

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