14. Chapter 14
Chapter fourteen
Bexley
T he school day drags on, causing me to question the concept of time.
I swear, all the clocks are at half-speed, taking forever to reach the end of day.
My mind has been a blurry mess all day—stuck on the thoughts of Mom at her follow-up appointment today, and my agreed meeting with Rylan this afternoon.
When I arrived at Willowbrook this morning, I gave Arch the brief update after he filled me in on yesterday's antics. It brought me great joy to hear how people taunted the three guys, the academy in shambles as staff rushed to control the students.
The videos are still being shared at an alarming rate, and despite putting on a brave face, it was apparently easy to tell they were frustrated.
Even today, I was stuck in a classroom with the three of them, and they barely glanced my way. A few heated looks here and there, but for the most part, they kept away.
I organized for a small group of Cedar students to hang around after school, standing guard in the hallway to make sure no one tried to sneak into the detention room. Mrs. Smythson barely glanced at me when I arrived, and surprisingly, I was instructed to study rather than fix desks.
Huh—I wonder why that is.
Four o'clock rolls around and I meet Archie, Millie, Steele, and Parker outside the room. Millie, of course, volunteered to assist, which meant Parker was hot on her heels, guarding his baby sister. According to our sources, Hunter and Tai left academy grounds when classes finished, but they hadn't seen Rylan. That was surprising to me because I thought for sure I'd be facing the three of them, even if Rylan did say it would be just us.
Pulling out my cell, I double check the time, and reread Rylan's message with the meeting location. "If you stay outside the main building, you'll probably be able to hear if I need you. I'll shout down."
"Are you sure being on the rooftop with him is a smart idea?" Arch asks as the others nod in agreement with him.
"I can handle him," I say, offering a small smile. "Steele will catch me if I get pushed off the roof."
Not one of them laughs at my little joke. Rude.
Steele steps forward at the mention of his name, placing a hand on my waist. "I can come with you. I don't mind."
I pinch his cheek. "You're so cute when you're protective, Steely."
He grimaces at the nickname, rolling his eyes but yields his argument.
I gesture for them to follow to their station at the back of the main administration building. According to my research, if I go past the staircase to the dean's office, I'll find an emergency door further down the hallway. Behind it, there should be a stairwell leading to the roof.
It doesn't exactly scream safety procedure but alas, we should be able to keep our meeting private. Personally, I don't mind if people see or hear, but something tells me that Rylan doesn't feel the same.
Waving goodbye, I push inside the quiet building, daring a glance up the staircase to check the coast is clear. Most of the staff have appeared to have left for the day, and no one interrupts me when I duck through the emergency doors.
The stairwell weaves and curls upwards, and I grumble to myself about the extra cardio workout. Trust that asshole to make me do extra exercise when I barely survive gym at the best of times.
Finally coming to a door, I push it open, relishing in the feeling of fresh breeze as it whacks me in the face. My hair whips around my face, the orange hues of the sun casting shadows on the rooftop.
Rylan is standing on the other side, back facing me as he looks over the field with his hands in his pockets. The door slams closed behind me, and I mutter, "Shit", watching as he turns around at the sound of my arrival.
"You actually listened," he scoffs. "I half expected to be cornered by your little posse."
"I'm not afraid to be alone with you." I roll my eyes, the two of us meeting in the middle of the rooftop.
His eyes rake over me, a small, amused smile appearing as he watches my hands hold down my skirt.
"Keep your comments to yourself," I direct when I take notice. "If your academy wasn't so sexist, I'd actually be able to wear a pair of shorts outside of gym."
My comment lands exactly where I take aim, his expression dropping at the unpleasant reminder.
"Chill, Spencer," he grunts. "I'm in no mood for your attitude today."
"And yet, you're the one who summoned me here," I quip back. "What is this all about? Another warning? A threat?"
"A truce."
My body stills at the suggestion. I never pictured Rylan Astor saying those words in a million years. I almost had to strain my ears to hear them, and even now, I'm still not entirely convinced I heard him correctly.
"Sorry, what was that?" I ask, entertained.
Sharp blue irises narrow on my face. "Don't push your luck, Spencer. You heard what I said."
Snorting, I let go of my skirt as the breeze eases off, folding my arms. "You're not capable of a truce, Astor. Save the fake attempts of power and admit I've got you by the balls."
Rylan's jaw tenses, his eyes darting back to the field. "You do," he admits quietly. "Which is why no one can know about this meeting."
Well, I'm getting more and more surprised as this progresses. The great Rylan Astor wants to pretend he didn't come crawling to me? That's exactly where he should be though—on his knees.
"Still not buying it," I laugh softly. "Let me guess… election season?"
The way his eyes spring back, clashing with mine, gives me all the answers I need. It's no mystery that word spread like wildfire, and with enough video proof filling social media, I can just imagine Mayor Astor is not happy with the latest development. They need all the numbers they can get when we hit the poll booths again in a few months.
"Don't waste my time, Spencer. Are you willing to negotiate or not?"
I shrug, walking over to the stairwell entrance and lean against the wall. "Possibly. But things need to change around here. We don't want to be here anymore than you do, but there's no reason to be constantly at each other's throats."
"Fine," he snaps. "Name your terms."
"Wow," I muse. "It took me less than two weeks, Rylan. Two weeks to follow through on that promise that I'd push back."
He runs a hand through his hair, slumping down to the ground. My brows furrow, unsure what to make of his behavior.
The simple gesture, letting his guard down, sitting at a lower height—either he's playing me, or he's genuinely stuck between a rock and a hard place.
I push off from the wall, walking back over and sit down in front of him. For the first time, I'm looking at an equal, a product of this feud we've been forced into.
What happened this week, it wasn't even that bad. Sure, the videos were embarrassing, but he's strong enough to recover from something like that. The man in front of me is full of pure exhaustion, feeling the weight of this forced proximity.
I can relate.
It's hard trying to be on all the time. To put your own personal demons aside for the sake of saving face. And this could be a game, a tactic to blindside me, but if it's not… then Rylan Astor is really breaking to be asking for help.
I've only met Mayor Astor once, during the last election campaign. As part of the rounds, all the candidates had to visit the schools and local community venues. Even with trying to hide his displeasure at being present in Cedar territory, he was easily one of the worst humans I've ever come across.
Cruel, brutal, a real piece of work.
The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, but we're still young, and I bet that's a lot of pressure for someone like Rylan.
I wish I didn't feel pity for him. He doesn't deserve it. They spared no pity for me when they harassed me, set the cheerleaders on to me, destroyed my belongings knowing I'd be shit out of luck trying to replace them. Yet, I still feel a little sad for him.
My home life may not be perfect, but I have a mom who loves me, even when the demons swallow her whole. The pressure I feel at home is my own doing, a reaction to wanting to save her. I couldn't imagine having a parent like Max Astor, what that must be like.
"Do you want to talk about it?" I ask when Rylan continues to stay silent.
His eyes dart over to me, hardened, the mental wall blocking me from seeing what's on the other side. But his body language has already said more than words can express.
"I don't know what the hell you are talking about," he snaps back angrily.
Ahh—deflection. Classic move.
"Suit yourself," I shrug. "I'm not the one who has something to lose, Rylan."
He straightens up his back. "Don't worry that pretty little head of yours with things above you, Spencer. This is purely business."
"Exactly, business," I repeat. "So, if you want my help, you'll speak to me properly. I'm not the one who started this. I'm not the one who set fire to Cedar Heights Academy."
Rylan glowers at me. "What exactly are you implying?"
"Oh, spare me the theatrics. We all know someone from Willowbrook started that fire. You may have been at the warehouse at the time, but I'm not stupid—I know you knew about it."
His expression falters. "I knew nothing ," he scoffs. "Why the hell would I waste my time setting fire to your school? I didn't want you here. I still don't want you here."
"Do you honestly expect me to believe that?" I challenge. "One of you lit that fuse. And I won't rest until I know who."
Rylan stands suddenly, glaring down at me. "This was a waste of time. If you've already decided in your head that we're the perpetrators, then there's no way you're going to agree to a truce."
My hand stretches out, grabbing his as I tug him back down. Surprisingly, he lets me, eyes blown wide with frustration. He could have easily walked away—we both know that. But something tells me he's fighting a battle right now. So, I keep pushing.
"My terms are these," I start, locking eyes with him. "No more pranks, no more taunts. We co-exist until the repairs at Cedar are done. Any animosity we have is reserved for the warehouse. You leave my people alone, and we'll keep a clear path."
His face remains stoic as he listens. "And the videos?"
I shrug. "I can't speak for your people, but I'll have anyone from Cedar remove the indiscriminating videos. We can display an alliance, if you wish. You rule over your people, and leave me to do my job."
"Your job," he murmurs, bewildered. "That's what it is to you?"
"Of course."
It feels like we're both lost in translation now. In all honesty, it does feel like a job to me. It's a requirement, a leadership role that I'm now bound to. The idea that it could be anything more or less is perplexing.
Rylan's face softens. "Did you even want it?"
Now it's my turn to shove those walls up. A few years ago, all I wanted was to live my life peacefully. I wanted to be a normal teenager, making mistakes and learning from it. I wanted to go to school dances, be taken out on dates, and focus on my future.
But when everything fell to shit, I forced myself to be strong, to hide my broken heart. People grasped onto me, desperate for strength to guide them. And over time, it became easier to focus on being that person for them, to separate my life. It gave me a purpose, a reason to always be strong. But the reality of always needing to be on guard, unable to make mistakes, and having people rely on me, it's exhausting.
"I love looking after everyone," I finally say, running my fingers over the rough texture of the ground. "Don't you?"
When he doesn't answer immediately, I gaze up, heart missing a beat when I find his relaxed baby blues watching me closely.
"It was just… expected ," he mutters quietly. "I didn't have a choice."
I nod, for once understanding what he means. "It's not all bad," I tell him with a small smile. "It's just hard at times juggling both worlds."
Rylan hums, leaning back onto his palms. "Sometimes, I just want to run," he says, trailing off. I'm confused by his words, letting a silence fall between us as I wait for him to fill in the blanks.
His eyes scan my face—boyish, carefree features revealing themselves as he smiles. It's the first time I've ever been on the receiving end of a genuine one from him, and it makes my stomach flip. Here, right now, we're just two normal people, trying to figure out where the hell we go from here.
"Running makes me happy," he confesses. "It's so freeing. Nothing but me, my body, and the elements. It's the only time my mind can switch off and focus on something other than the surmounting pressures from all of this."
"Music," I reply. "Mine is music. My neighbors are probably sick of hearing my playlist, but it zones me out."
The two of us smile, tension disappearing as more shadows cast over the rooftop.
Remembering that I have people waiting for me, I dust off my hands on my skirt, holding one out to him.
"Alright, Astor. I'm not saying it's a truce, but we'll call it a trial run . If you can keep out of our way and be amicable toward us, maybe we'll get out of this thing alive."
Rylan reaches out, not shaking my hand but grasping it in his palm. My eyes fall to our connected hands, trying to ignore the strange feeling brewing in my chest as his eyes linger on my face.
"To friendliness," he proclaims, my skin itching as his thumb runs a singular stroke over my hand.
Clearing my throat, I pull back first, clenching my fist by my side as I stand. He watches for a few seconds, before pushing to his own feet.
"Here," I say awkwardly, reaching into my bra and extracting his credit card. "Consider this the first step toward an armistice. The wildcat foundation thanks you for your support."