Chapter 7 #2
Nick tosses his arm around my shoulders like we’re on prom court, pointing us toward the exit. I slap his chest, exasperated at him using the derogatory term for those not in Greek Life. “Don’t pay attention to him, Elliot.”
Elliot’s completely unfazed. His grin is lazy, a bit sly, as he tries hard to contain a larger smile. “It’s fine. I’ve always preferred brains to branding.”
The fall chill nips at my skin as we cut across campus toward Cardell Library—my family’s donation to the university.
Nick walks with the swagger of a man who’s just made a deal he doesn’t understand.
His hand drifts dangerously close to the small of my back before I dart forward through the heavy oak doors like I didn’t notice.
“Private room?” I ask, eyeing the sign-out tablet near the desk.
“You know I only do exclusive,” Nick says with a wink and dimpled grin.
“Is that before or after they muted you in the group chat?” Elliot adds.
I snort. Nick frowns but says nothing, probably unsure if he’s just been insulted.
We grab one of the smaller study rooms on the second floor—the kind with floor-to-ceiling glass on one side and a small whiteboard on the other, like we’re prepping for a corporate pitch instead of Global Power Structures and Ethics.
As soon as we sit, Nick sets his feet on the edge of the table and leans back in a chair, getting comfortable.
“What are you wearing to the Theta party tomorrow night?” He licks his bottom lip as he looks at me. Ignoring the gesture, I flip open my laptop, my stomach tightening into a knot.
“Well, I don’t even know if I’ll make it through the escape rooms—”
Nick snorts. “Of course you will. You think Aiden would let his sister get stuck? Nah, nah. Babe, you can dance with me. Just toss on some pink lingerie and go as Barbie.”
When I turn toward him to see if he’s serious, thinking of me, thick and dark Olivia Cardell, going as thin, blonde Barbie, he wiggles his eyebrows. “I’ll be your Ken.”
“That’s fitting,” Elliot pipes in with a smirk. I slap his elbow under the table.
Nick leans forward enough to say to him slowly, as if he’s an idiot. “Terror Tuesday is a Greek Life game. Not sure you’d get it.”
My irritation rises as I close my eyes for a brief moment before Nick opens his mouth again.
“So, Olivia, I was thinking—we could do, like, economic collapse through NFTs or something. Just spitballing... It could be relevant.”
Before I can even ask what that is, Elliot murmurs, “That’s one way to fail us.” He flips open his notebook and raises an eyebrow. “I’m sure Professor Navarro’s just dying to hear about meme coins and muscle milk.”
Nick glares, pulling out a protein bar from his designer duffel. “Just trying to make it interesting, man. Girls like interesting.”
“Girls like accuracy,” I mumble as I skim the assignment brief.
Leaning in, Elliot’s eyes catch mine with playfulness. “Lucky for me, I major in being both.”
My heart skips. I quickly return to the screen in front of me and pretend I didn’t hear the smile in his voice—or feel the pulse between my legs throb at the sound of it.
Nick stretches dramatically, like this is a beach hangout instead of a group session. “I’ve got a call in ten. Probably shouldn’t keep Levi Joseph from Joseph-Townsend Financials waiting. Dude’s got all the connections.”
Elliot nods, totally deadpan. “Connections to places far, far away from here? We could only be so fortunate.”
“Ha. Real funny.” Nick stands, glancing down at me. “You want anything? Coffee? Protein drink?” His eyebrows raise suggestively at the word protein.
“I’m good, thanks.” I smile with polite finality.
Nick shoots Elliot a narrow-eyed look before heading out, as if he’s wondering if he can leave us alone together.
As soon as the door clicks shut, silence blooms in the room like fresh ink across a confession. I would relax, but the figure next to me has me on edge in an entirely different way than Nick.
Elliot taps his pen once. Twice. Then tilts his head toward me. “So…should I get your number now, or wait until we’ve fake-bonded over a whiteboard first?”
I blink. It’s been so long since someone asked me for my number. And I just watched Hunter get his throat slit. But something within me is desperate to give it to this scholarship student and escape from the forest into the sunlight with him.
“For the project,” he adds, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Obviously,” I say, but my voice is a little breathier than intended. I recite the digits, too aware of how close his shoulder is to mine as he types it in. My phone buzzes a second later with a text.
Elliot
Group text starter. Very professional. Totally serious.
I bite my lip to hold back a laugh.
“You always flirt this hard with your project partners?” I ask.
His gaze lingers on mine for a second too long. “Only when I suspect they could ruin me.”
My chest tightens, and the smile falters from my lips. He means it as a joke. But there’s a flicker in his eyes that suggests otherwise.
And for some reason, I like it.
Elliot doesn’t look away.
His fingers drum once more against the table before reaching over—casual, so casual—and plucking a stray eyelash from my cheek.
“You get one wish,” he murmurs, voice low and unhurried. “Careful what you spend it on.”
The pad of his thumb brushes the curve of my cheekbone. I forget how to breathe.
He doesn’t wait for my answer.
Then, softly—without breaking eye contact—he blows the lash from his fingertip.
“I made one for you.”
My heart stutters, then promptly speeds up. “Wha-what was it?” I ask, already regretting how breathless I sound.
A glint sparks in his eyes. “Maybe someday I’ll tell you.” One beat passes, and he holds my gaze. Another. Then, he tilts his head. “Or, you know… world peace. For Navarro.”
He leans back, stealing my air, and glances at the whiteboard, and says, “Now, should we start with global collapse, or save that for after coffee?”
My heart is still racing when I open my mouth.
I have no idea what comes out.
But I know I’d follow him into the wreckage.
Even if I was the one who lit the match.