Chapter 15 Liam
We crossed Kingswell’s campus in silence.
Alex walked beside me, close enough that I could feel him there even without looking. Close enough that every few steps our arms almost brushed. Close enough that I could smell that expensive cologne he wore.
I kept my eyes forward, focused on the path ahead, on the mission. On anything except the way my body was reacting to having him this close. I focused on my anger instead.
One of his people did this. Someone from his perfect fucking school sent that video.
The anger should have made it easier. Should have burned out whatever this was between us. But it didn’t. It just made everything worse—wanting him while hating where he came from, what he’d chosen, what he represented.
Earlier, when Noah had opened the door and I’d looked up from my bed—seen Alex standing there in the doorway with those blue eyes, blond hair catching the hallway light, that dark jacket that fit him too perfectly—something had hit me so hard I’d almost forgotten how to breathe.
And all I could think about was the fact that he was right there. In my space. In my room. Close enough that if I stood up, crossed those few feet, I could touch him.
Pull him down onto this bed beside me. Feel the weight of him. Stop fighting this thing that had been burning through us.
It wasn’t just a thought; it was a need that was raw and physical.
Fuck.
I’d wanted to pull him down to me on the bed. Wanted to—
Stop.
I shoved it down. Forced myself to think about the plan. The server room. The USB drive in my pocket. Getting in and out without getting caught.
We reached the athletic building, an I pulled out the earbud, put it in, and called Noah on my phone.
“Testing,” Noah’s voice came through. “You hear me?”
“Yeah,” I said.
Alex fiddled with the earbud in his ear and nodded.
“Good. Go to the side entrance. South side of the building. The door should be unlocked.”
We walked around to the south side. Shadows everywhere. Street lamps casting just enough light to see by.
I found the door and tried the handle—it opened.
Noah’s voice crackled in my ear. “You in?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Security sweep finished fifteen minutes ago. You’ve got a clean window.”
“Got it,” I said.
Alex slipped in behind me. The door closed, cutting off the cold wind.
Inside, the building was dark except for emergency exit signs casting everything in red. The hallway stretched ahead—polished floors, framed photographs of Kingswell’s founding fathers, mahogany doors with brass nameplates. Dean of Students. Director of Athletics. Vice President of Development.
This wasn’t just any building. This was Kingswell’s Athletic nerve center, where powerful people decided the futures of kids like Alex, and we were about to break into its basement.
My heart hammered against my ribs.
“Straight ahead. Take the hallway to the end, then stairs on your left. Basement level,” Noah said.
I started walking. Alex fell into step beside me.
Our footsteps echoed too loud in the silence. Every sound felt amplified—the sounds of our footsteps, the rustle of our jackets, my own breathing.
Alex moved through the dark hallway like he belonged here—shoulders back, head up, that Kingswell confidence even when he was terrified. The emergency lights caught his profile every few steps. Sharp jaw. Smooth skin.
A heat built in my chest with every look.
Stop. Focus.
But my brain wouldn’t cooperate.
Since I’d beaten Alex in that race, I’d thought it was over. Thought I’d buried that summer for good. Thought the anger would be enough to keep everything else locked down.
But I hadn’t spent this much time with him since the lake. Hadn’t been this close. And it was doing something to me—something I couldn’t control.
We’d taken the double scull out at sunrise.
Just the two of us on the water, mist rising, the whole world quiet except for our blades cutting through glass-smooth surface.
That stupid, perfect morning when we’d rowed together like we’d been born for it.
Like the boat knew us. Like we knew each other.
We’d stopped in the middle of the lake. Let the boat drift. And Alex had looked at me like he felt what I felt.
I should have kissed him then, but I didn’t.
Three weeks later, I did.
That night at the party, and the space between us just... collapsed. His lips on mine. Soft at first, then desperate.
It was everything.
Not like kissing girls. Not like anything I’d felt before. It was right in a way that made every other kiss feel like practice.
I shoved the memory down. Tried to push it back into the locked box where I kept everything I couldn’t afford to feel.
This wasn’t then. This was a problem to solve. Get in, delete the file, get out. Simple.
Except nothing about this was simple. The feelings weren’t just seeping in anymore. It wasn’t a slow leak I could bail out and ignore.
It was like the water was flowing in, sinking the boat.
No matter how hard I bailed, no matter how many walls I put up, it kept coming.
Alex’s presence beside me. The smell of him.
The way his breathing matched mine in the dark.
The feel of the heat coming off his body even though we weren’t touching.
I wanted to reach out. Grab his hand. Pull him close and—
Stop.
“End of the hallway. Stairs on your left,” Noah said in my ear.
I found them. A metal door marked AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY in yellow letters.
I pushed it open.
The stairwell was concrete and cold. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead. Our footsteps clanged on the metal stairs as we descended. The sound echoed up and down the shaft.
Too loud. Way too loud.
“You’re stomping,” Alex said.
“I’m not stomping.”
“You sound like you’re trying to wake the entire building.”
“It’s the stairs. It’s impossible not—“
“They’re fine. You just don’t know how to be quiet.”
I shot him a look. “I know how to be quiet.”
Another step groaned under my weight and the sound ricocheted off the concrete walls—we both froze.
Alex stared at me. Eyes wide. Accusing.
“Don’t,” I said.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were thinking it.”
“I was thinking you need to distribute your weight better—“
“I know how to walk down fucking stairs, Alex.”
“Clearly not.”
I held his gaze. His eyes were too blue in the dim stairwell light and I couldn’t even stay angry at him. He broke eye contact first. Gestured down. Keep going.
I nodded once.
We kept moving down the stairs, just a little quieter.
“Basement level,” I said to my earbud.
“Good. When you exit the stairwell, turn right. Server room is third door on the left. Should be unlocked—maintenance doesn’t usually secure it since it’s already behind locked exterior doors.”
We reached the basement landing and I put my hand on the door.
Paused.
This was it. Once we went through, we were committed. If we got caught down here, there’d be no explaining it away. No innocent excuse. We’d be done for.
Alex was right behind me. I could feel him there. Waiting.
I pushed the door open.
The hallway here was different. Narrower. Lower ceilings. Exposed pipes running along the walls, some wrapped in what looked like asbestos insulation. Utility lighting that flickered and hummed. The floor was concrete instead of polished wood—cracked and stained from decades of use.
This was the part of Kingswell they didn’t show in the brochures. The guts of the place. Where the machinery lived. Where the illusion of perfection got maintained by people no one ever saw.
Third door on the left.
The hallway felt endless. Our shadows stretched long on the floor ahead of us, distorted by the flickering lights. I counted the doors as we walked. One. Two.
“Three,” Alex said, pointing at the door.
I reached for it and twisted the metal knob. Nothing—it was locked.
“Shit, it’s locked.”
“What?” Noah’s voice sharpened. “It should be unlocked.”
“Well, it’s not.”
Silence in my ear. I could almost hear him thinking, recalculating.
“Okay. Plan B. Alex, you have your student ID?”
“Yeah...” Alex said.
“Try it on the card reader. Sometimes these doors default to student access if they’re not properly secured.”
Alex stepped closer, pulled his wallet from his back pocket and his arm brushed mine. Heat shot through me. Fast and sharp, something I couldn’t stop. Something that I wanted more of.
He swiped the card, and the door beeped and a green light flashed on the card reader.
The lock clicked open.
“Thank God,” I said.
“You’re in?” Noah asked.
“Yup,” I said, pushing the door open.
The server room was small—maybe ten feet by ten feet.
Server racks lined the walls, equipment stacked floor to ceiling.
Blinking lights. Red, green, yellow. The low hum of cooling fans.
Blue ethernet cables snaking everywhere like veins.
It smelled like electronics and recycled air and something metallic I couldn’t identify.
This was where Kingswell’s digital infrastructure lived. Student records. Financial data. Email servers. Including the video of me and Alex racing at dawn.
“Find the main terminal. Should be labeled. Plug in the USB I gave you and run the script,” Noah said.
I scanned the room. Equipment everywhere. How was I supposed to—
There. A workstation in the corner with a monitor and keyboard. A label on the tower: ADMIN TERMINAL 01.
“Got it.”
I moved to the desk. Pulled the USB from my pocket.
My hands were shaking.
I forced them steady. Plugged it in.
The screen lit up—bright blue login screen. Windows logo. Username and password fields.
“Noah, it’s password protected.”
“Username is ‘admin.’ Password is ‘KSU2024athletics.’ Capital K, capital S, capital U. No spaces.”
I typed it in. Slowly. Carefully. I hit enter and prayed this would work. The screen changed. Desktop loaded. File directories opened.
“I’m in.”
“Okay. Open the USB drive. Should show up as a removable drive. Double-click the file called ‘cleanup.bat.’ It’ll run automatically. Don’t touch anything else.”