I feel the weight of his possessiveness, his arm snug around my waist, and despite myself, I like it more than I should. It’s a bold, assertive move, and it stirs something inside me—something tells me Bishop knows exactly what he’s doing. Knows exactly how to get under my skin.

I try to pull back slightly, but Bishop’s arm stays firmly around my waist, as if daring me to make a move.

Finally, my grandmother just nods stiffly. “Very well, then. We’ll see you both there.” The emphasis she places onbothdoesn’t go unnoticed.

She turns and walks away, her heels clicking against the floor, but her words linger in the air. A part of me feels a strange weight settle over me, a burden I didn’t ask for. I realize I’ve been standing there, caught between Bishop’s arm and the lingering presence of my grandmother, and I make the decision to break the spell.

It takes more strength than it should to pull away from him, the heat of his touch still burning through my skin. I straighten up, trying to ignore the way my blood spikes as I place a bit of distance between us.

“I’m not going to that party,” I state firmly, meeting his gaze with cool resolve.

Bishop doesn’t even flinch. He just stands there, his arm slowly dropping from my waist, his eyes watching me like he’s cataloging every movement I make. It’s like my refusal didn’t even register to him.

“Of course you will, because you’ll do exactly what’s been asked of you,” he says, his tone rougher now, dripping with intent. “You’ll show up, be polite, and maybe if you’re good enough…I’ll give you exactly what we both know you really want. The thing you keep pretending you don’t.”

The words slam into me, my breath catching in my throat. Even though I know I should push back, I can’t fight the rush running through me. There’s no mistaking it now—he’s not playing. Bishop isn’t just making a suggestion; he’s laying it all out, and it’s clear as day—he wants me.

His signature smirk deepens, his eyes slowly trailing down to my lips, as if he can already taste them. That flicker of dark hunger in his gaze sends a jolt straight to my core. The weight of his attention pulls me in, and I hate myself for how much I like it.

I can feel the tension thickening between us, like it’s only a matter of time before I’m wrapped up in him, tangled in something I’m not sure I’ll be able to walk away from.

Chapter 20

Alex

Itap the edge of my pen against the book, trying to keep my focus on the pages in front of me. Sylvester’s voice has faded into the background, like the hum of a distant engine. I was stuck on the same line of my textbook for what felt like the tenth time, but the words weren’t making sense.

And then the book slams shut.

I snap my head up, startled. Sylvester looks at me, his brow furrowed slightly, his expression calm but focused.

“Session’s over,” he says.

I stared, half-dazed. “What?”

“You’ve been zoning out for the last twenty minutes.” He ran a hand through his hair. “You look out of it.”

A rush of excitement flooded my chest. The session was over already? I checked the clock, and we hadn’t even been here thirty minutes yet.

It was Wednesday night, not Thursday, when we usually had our study sessions. But with the carnival this weekend, Sylvester would be busy helping the swim team set up, so we shifted it to tonight. I’d been reluctant to come at first—honestly, I’d rather endure listening to Sylvester’s never-ending rants about his swim team than deal with the construction chaos shaking my dorm to its foundation. So here I was.

I still wasn’t sure what to make of it—that Bishop had something to do with the renovations. My grandparents didn’t even seem to know the dorm had been falling apart until he told them. Why would he do that? What did he gain from getting involved?

It wasn’t like we were friends. Not really. So why had he gone out of his way to say something?

Was it guilt? Remorse, maybe—for everything that he’d done to me? Or was I just fooling myself into seeing something that wasn’t there?

It was easy, wasn’t it? To get caught in the quiet hope that maybe someone was better than you thought—like a captive who mistakes the sound of the lock turning for freedom.

The thought sat with me, heavier than I wanted to admit. I hadn’t even begun to process it fully—but the question kept tugging at the edges of my focus, quiet but persistent, like the low whine of the drill outside my building’s hallway: relentless, tired, and impossible to ignore.

“I haven’t been getting a lot of sleep,” I admitted.

With all the construction going on in my building, the whole Bishop situation, learning about my grandparents, andeverything else that’s happening with Altair, my mind feels like an overgrown garden—tangled and wild, with too many different vines choking out everything else.

Sylvester quirked a brow, clearly expecting more of an explanation. Instead, I let out a breath and lean back in my chair, the frustration in my chest bubbling up. “You know what I really miss?” I said, shaking my head with a sigh. “My old school. I used to have access to microscopes—real ones, the kind you could really dive into, examine every detail of a plant up close.” The other day, when I was in the greenhouse, it hit me just how much I took that access for granted. Here? The labs are locked up after hours, and you need special permission just to get in.

I didn’t kid myself about my status at Altair. I wasn’t exactly the most popular student, and I wasn’t about to pretend otherwise. Students avoided me, and staff…well, let’s just say I wasn’t on most of their favorite lists either. Things had improved a bit since I’d first arrived—I hadn’t heard the nickname “mudslide” thrown my way in a while, but that didn’t mean I was blending in. I knew where I stood, and I wasn’t bothered by it.