Page 99 of The Ruthless Rivalry

“Fuck this school. Fuck Bishop.”

The words felt bitter on my tongue, but they didn’t have the satisfaction I thought they would.

After having him, I knew I was the one who’d been truly fucked—in more ways than one. I knew I wanted more. And I hated myself for it.

Aubrey thrusts a coffee cup into my hands. “Here,” she says.

“You’ve already handed me four cups today,” I protest. “At this rate, I’m going to turn into a caffeine-fueled robot.”

“A robot wouldn’t backtalk, and trust me, you could use a fifth,” she insists. “You’re starting to develop dark circles under your eyes that could rival the undead.”

“Hey!” I object, but I take a sip of the coffee anyway. “It’s not my fault they decided to do major renovations on my dorm building during the middle of the semester.”

And Bishop left me hanging last night, didn’t even bother to finish what we started. I’d tossed and turned all evening, my mind still spinning. Not only was I exhausted from lack of sleep, but I was also sexually frustrated. My body still ached with lingering need, and every thought of him only made it worse. Freaking asshole.

“No,” Aubrey agrees, “but if you’re going to help set up for the carnival this weekend, you might as well move into a coffee shop.”

“I’m here now, aren’t I?” I argue, shooting her a glare over the rim of my drink.

“Yeah, only because I practically had to knock your door down to get you out of bed this morning.”

“Well, not all of us can function on two hours of sleep and a caffeine drip. Some of us still needactualrest.”

Aubrey quirks a brow. “So you’re saying the coffee isn’t working?”

“No, it’s working.” I sip from my cup with a smirk. It’s just doing a piss-poor job of making me forget about certain unresolved situations with a certain dark-haired, green-eyed, asshole Legacy.

She snorts, shaking her head, but I don’t have the energy to argue. My mind was still preoccupied with this morning’s unexpected surprise. When I opened the door to let Aubrey in, she was holding a box in her hands. I hadn’t realized anything had been left outside my door.

Inside the box was a pair of noise-canceling earplugs. And there was food—a sandwich, carefully wrapped, with a handwritten note:Eat, you need it.I snorted and set it aside.

But what caught my attention was what was at the very bottom of the box—another page from my botany notebook. I flipped it over and examined it. No cigarette burn this time. Instead,I found a note scrawled in the same cocky handwriting as the sandwich wrapper on the back.

“You’re welcome. The construction’s not going anywhere, and I know you’re too stubborn to admit it’s a problem. Don’t ignore the food either, Prescott.”

If the demand from theEat menote hadn’t already been a hint, the page from my botany notebook was a dead giveaway.

If Bishop wasn’t so bossy, this would be kind of thoughtful. But I knew better than to trust anything he did for me. There was always a hidden agenda.

I hadn’t even taken the sandwich with me. Aubrey had rushed me out of the dorm, and with the carnival coming up, I hadn’t had time to think about eating today. Even if it was oddly…sweet? That couldn’t be Bishop, could it?

“Hey, grab that end, would you?” Aubrey’s voice pulls me back to the present. She bends down, reaching for one of the stacks of plywood scattered around us. These pieces will soon be transformed into a stage for the Actors Guild improv performance.

I set my cup down and grab one end of a piece of plywood while Aubrey takes the other side. Together, we carry it over to where her club members are finishing up the frame.

“You lucked out big time,” Aubrey grunts as she readjusts her grip on the long, thin sheet of wood.

I glance over at Club Bedlam’s massive tent with its bold white and black stripes. Aubrey is right; since we were hosting and our structure was already built, Alfie and I didn’t have much to do before this weekend’s event.

I think about how Alfie had said he didn’t need help with set up, and I wasn’t going to push him on it, especially if that meant more cleaning or having to deal with my personal chore of the bathroom.

Stupid question around Alfie, because if I wasn’t careful, he’d probably turn the toilet into a fountain of confetti or worse, make it disappear entirely and have me wandering around trying to find where it went. He always seemed to find a way to make something bizarrely inconvenient happen when I least expected it. Honestly though, I was getting used to it—and strangely enough, I found myself laughing more than getting frustrated or annoyed anymore. His magic was just another weird thing I’d learned to roll with at this school.

Aubrey grunts, struggling to keep her grip steady. “I thought this was supposed to be a fun, relaxing thing to do before the games start,” she jokes.

“I thought the carnival was a fundraiser for the clubs?”

“It is, on paper, anyway. Mostly, it’s just a way to help students who are participating in this year’s games relax and have a bit of fun before, you know…”

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