Chapter 3
ALANNA
“We’re wasting time doing this online.” My research partner’s voice was tight with impatience. “If we met at the café, I could fix the formatting while you read citations out loud. Multitasking at its best.”
We’d studied at The Drift Café a few times already, but I put the brakes on meeting in person when Ethan started to push to come over to my apartment instead.
I’d only known him for a few weeks, but he’d already raised more than a few red flags.
And even though my brother was on his honeymoon, I wouldn’t put it past him to still find out I’d let a guy I barely knew into my place.
He had serious skills behind the keyboard, and plenty of club brothers who’d back him up by coming over here to kick Ethan out.
This actually checked the plus column for inviting him over. Because maybe Jaxton would send Chance—I meant Drift—to my apartment, and then he couldn’t avoid me. Except that would mean allowing my creepy study partner into my personal space, and I wasn’t quite that desperate. Not yet, anyway.
Forcing my gaze up to the screen to meet Ethan’s, I shook my head. “Sorry, but the café was so loud last time we were there. I didn’t want the added distraction today.”
“Which is why I should’ve just come over.”
I tucked one leg under me and ran my finger along the edge of my trackpad to give my hands something to do. “Like I already told you, I’m still getting settled. Boxes everywhere. It’s not exactly guest-friendly.”
He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. “And like I said, I don’t mind a mess.”
“But I do.” I forced a smile. “And we’re losing even more time having this disagreement again.”
“Fine.” He huffed out a breath, his cursor reappearing on our shared document. “We were on the methods section.”
“Yes, your variable definitions look good, but the last paragraph implies causation. We should soften it to correlation.”
He blinked, then his eyes narrowed. “It doesn’t imply causation. It suggests potential causality pending replication, obviously.”
“Right.” I kept my tone light. “Which is why we should say it that way.”
Another sigh. “Word it however you want.”
The keys clicked under my fingers.
“‘Indicate’ is weak,” he interrupted. “Use ‘demonstrate’ instead.”
I kept my gaze on the keyboard as I continued to type. “But they don’t.”
He stayed quiet until I finished typing, then muttered, “You’re overly cautious.”
“Accurate,” I corrected, adding a period with a neat tap that felt like a small victory. “Let’s jump to the survey language. The revised consent statement—”
“Can you move closer to your camera first?”
I froze, my brows drawing together. “Why?”
“You always sit so far back. Makes it hard to see you while we’re talking through things.”
My scalp prickled with unease as I shifted an inch closer to my laptop. That would have to be enough.
“Consent statement,” I repeated, scrolling. “I changed ‘may’ to ‘might’ and removed the extra ‘voluntary’ since it’s redundant with ‘opt-out at any time.’”
He skimmed, then nodded. “Fine.”
By the time we reached the bottom of the section, my cheeks ached from being polite. Ethan’s creepy factor kept increasing each time we worked together.
“There, all caught up.”
His jaw flexed. “If we fall behind again, it’ll be because you refuse to meet in person. Send me your address, Alanna. I’ll swing by tomorrow. We’ll get the rest knocked out, and you can stop worrying.”
“I’m not worried.” I exported a copy of this version to my hard drive. “You’re using a password on your local copies, right? In addition to having one on your laptop? I don’t want to inadvertently violate IRB rules since we’re using human subjects.”
He smirked at me. “So you like to keep files on your personal device.”
My cheeks heated, but from irritation instead of embarrassment. “Yes, for redundancy. Like any responsible researcher would.”
“Same.” He clicked his pen a few times. “And of course my files are password-protected.”
“Good.”
He leaned closer again, his face getting bigger on my screen. “You seemed distracted tonight. Looking off-screen a lot. Were you texting someone? New boyfriend?”
I wished I could honestly say yes…and that Chance was the man in my life. But the reality was that I didn’t even have permission to use his real name. Out loud he was Drift.
“I thought I was quite focused,” I disagreed. “We got through everything we planned for tonight, and it only took a little more than an hour. And I’m sure we’ll make good progress again tomorrow.”
“Even more if we meet in person.”
I was getting tired of him pushing to see me, but I was stuck with Ethan until the end of the semester, so I forced myself not to bite his head off. “I’ll let you know what my schedule looks like, but for now, another video call works better for me.”
“Whatever,” he mumbled before signing off.
When the screen went black, I exhaled, my shoulders slumping. “Finally.”
I closed the laptop and pushed to my feet, padding barefoot to the fridge. Yanking open the freezer door, I decided that eating my feelings sounded like a good plan and pulled out a pint of caramel-swirl ice cream.
The first bite was cold enough to make my teeth ache, but it beat thinking about Ethan’s smug face. I sank onto the couch cushions, curling my legs beneath me and letting the spoon dangle from my fingers.
Maybe this was what freedom tasted like. Sweet, messy, and a little lonely.
My parents would’ve hated it. They’d spent years pretending Jaxton’s move to Crossbend was temporary, that he’d eventually “come to his senses” and leave the motorcycle club behind.
When he didn’t, they’d tightened the leash on me instead.
They had ordered me to go no contact with my brother, but Jaxton had never been good at following orders. And I loved him too much to walk away.
We met whenever we could, hiding it as if we were plotting a crime rather than just seeing family.
I used to think their disapproval hurt because they didn’t see my brother the way I did—how incredible he was. Now I knew it was because they’d never really seen me either.
The wedding had been my breaking point. Jaxton and Lark got married a week and a half ago, and my parents couldn’t be bothered to show up. That was the final straw. After the ceremony, I told him I was done. I was cutting ties with our parents for good.
I’d expected him to talk me down. Instead, he’d sounded almost relieved.
Suggested that I move to Crossbend since it was closer to my new campus now that I’d transferred into a research program as a junior.
Then he somehow found the time before leaving on his honeymoon to get me an apartment in a cute little building with only three other units—and plenty of security.
By the following morning, he had a lease waiting for my signature, utilities in my name, and his club brothers scheduled to help me move my stuff. He’d even booked a moving truck.
Typical Jaxton, protective to a fault and efficient as can be.
What I hadn’t expected was Chance to be one of the guys who showed up at my new apartment. The moment I saw him at the wedding, my childhood crush came roaring back full force.
Not that any woman would blame me for my reaction to my brother’s friend. Chance Lawton was tall, dark, and dangerous with his brown hair and muscular frame. The faint scar splitting his right eyebrow only made his blue eyes even more arresting.
He’d put his strong body to work, lifting full boxes like they were empty. He’d barely looked at me, his jaw locked so tightly I could see the muscle tick near his ear.
I scooped another bite of ice cream and let it melt on my tongue. Maybe it was pathetic, pining for a man who barely spoke to me. One who’d done his best to ignore me the few times I’d seen him in town over the past week.
I needed to focus on my classes, my new start, and the independence I’d fought for. Chance had made it clear that he didn’t want me.
Still, when I thought about Ethan’s persistence, I couldn’t help but think that if Chance was the one who wanted to come over to my apartment, I wouldn’t have hesitated.
I sank deeper into the couch and stared at the frozen swirl melting around my spoon. I needed to get a grip. I’d moved here to stand on my own two feet, not fall for someone who barely saw me as anything more than his friend’s little sister.
The ping of my phone pulled me from my thoughts.
Ethan
Good night.
I stared at the screen for a second before locking it again. We were done for the day, so I didn’t need to reply.
I set the phone beside the melted remains of my ice cream and rubbed my temples. The next message came through less than a minute later.
Ethan
This project matters to me, Alanna. I hope you’re taking it seriously.
Now that was a message I couldn’t let stand.
Me
Of course I do.
Three dots pulsed, disappeared, then came back.
Ethan
You say that, but I don’t think you respect how much pressure I’m under.
Ethan
If you flake, I’ll have to tell the department the truth. I can’t afford to fail because you’re too busy.
My pulse tripped. He’d gone from nitpicking to threats in the space of a heartbeat.
Me
I’m not flaking. It’s late. We’ll talk tomorrow.
I tossed my phone facedown and muttered, “Grow up,” to the empty apartment.
It buzzed again almost immediately. I didn’t look. Then again. And again.
I finally snatched it up and froze at the wall of messages.
Ethan
You think I’m joking?
Ethan
You’d be surprised how easy it is to file an integrity complaint.
Ethan
Stop ignoring me.
Ethan
We should meet in person and sort this out before it gets worse.
Before what got worse?
My throat went dry. I typed a reply, deleted it, and finally decided on the path of least resistance.
Me
Tomorrow at The Drift Café. Noon.
Three dots blinked again before his replies came through.
Ethan
Sorry if I was harsh.
Ethan
You push me sometimes.
Ethan
Don’t be mad.
Ethan
See you at noon.
I stood and got ready for bed, telling myself I’d handled it. One last meeting in a public place, and I’d reset my boundaries for good.
When I finally drifted off, my phone was on the mattress beside me, screen facing down and notifications turned off.
The morning light was too bright when I woke. I’d forgotten to close the blinds last night.
“Ugh.”
I dragged a pillow over my face before forcing myself out of bed.
After coffee and a shower, I felt a little more human.
By the time I dressed, put on a little makeup, pulled my hair into a loose knot, and grabbed my keys, I had rehearsed what I needed to say to Ethan a dozen times.
But I still didn’t feel quite ready to meet up with him when I slung my bag over my shoulder and stepped outside.
The universe seemed to agree. I slid into the driver’s seat of my little beat-up car and turned the key, but nothing happened.
I tried again, and still nothing.
“Seriously?” I muttered, giving the steering wheel a half-hearted smack.
I sat there for a moment and considered my options. Calling Jaxton was out because I didn’t want to interrupt his honeymoon. He’d added a few of his club brothers to my contacts before he left, just in case I needed anything.
But before I resorted to playing the damsel in distress, I wanted to at least try to take care of this myself.
I spent half an hour trying various things, including using jumper cables with my neighbor’s car—which resulted in nothing except a brief flash of light before the car coughed and flatlined again.
Sighing, I knew I couldn’t avoid it any longer.
Pulling my phone from the cup holder, I scrolled through the list. One name jumped out to me—Drift. Because of course my brother used his road name since that was what I was supposed to call him.
With my crush and how he’d been avoiding me, he should’ve been the last person I called. But I pressed his name before I could talk myself out of it. The dial tone filled the car, each ring making my heart beat a little faster.
It clicked, and a low, rough voice came through the line. “Alanna?”