Chapter 8 Outside World Intrudes
Back on Campus
The first thing I noticed about returning to campus full-time was how loud everything felt.
After spending weeks at Kane Customs, university seemed strangely overwhelming.
Students crowded the walkways between buildings. Conversations overlapped from every direction. Music drifted from open windows. Someone was always rushing somewhere.
The campus hadn't changed.
I had.
That realization followed me all morning.
I walked across the quad carrying a notebook and coffee, weaving through clusters of students on my way to Creative Writing Workshop. The autumn air felt cool and crisp, and for once I wasn't counting the minutes until I could leave.
Normally, university felt like another obligation.
Another place where expectations waited.
Another environment where I had to be careful.
Lately, things felt different.
Lighter.
For the first time in years, I wasn't constantly trapped inside my own head.
I wasn't overthinking every conversation.
I wasn't worrying about disappointing my father every second of every day.
And I definitely wasn't wondering whether anyone would ever actually love me.
Jaxon had somehow changed all of that.
The thought immediately made me smile.
A dangerous habit.
One I seemed incapable of breaking.
"You look suspiciously happy."
I looked up.
My friend Lauren stood beside the classroom door with her arms crossed.
Her expression was openly skeptical.
Great.
I was being observed.
"Good morning to you too."
She narrowed her eyes.
"No."
That was all she said.
"No?"
"No."
She pointed directly at me.
"Something happened."
I laughed.
The sound escaped before I could stop it.
Lauren immediately gasped.
"Oh my God."
"What?"
"You laughed."
I rolled my eyes.
"I always laugh."
"You absolutely do not."
Unfortunately, she wasn't wrong.
Most people knew me as quiet.
Polite.
Reserved.
Happy wasn't usually part of the description.
Lauren grabbed my arm and dragged me into the classroom.
"This is serious."
"It really isn't."
"It is."
She dropped into a chair beside me.
"You disappeared for weeks."
"I was gone for five days."
"You ignored half my texts."
"Three texts."
"You returned looking like someone won the lottery."
I opened my notebook.
Desperate attempt at distraction.
It failed immediately.
Lauren leaned closer.
"Who is he?"
I nearly choked on air.
"Excuse me?"
Her grin widened.
"There's a he."
"There isn't."
"There absolutely is."
I stared at her.
She stared back.
The woman had terrifying instincts.
It was one of her most annoying qualities.
"I'm not discussing this."
The answer confirmed everything.
At least according to Lauren.
She sat back looking entirely too pleased.
"He's older."
"What?"
"Definitely older."
I groaned.
"Please stop."
"He has tattoos."
My eyes widened slightly.
Mistake.
A huge mistake.
Lauren pointed triumphantly.
"Tattoos!"
I dropped my head onto the desk.
The class hadn't even started yet.
My suffering was already immense.
"You are impossible."
"Thank you."
"That wasn't a compliment."
"It never is."
Despite my embarrassment, a smile tugged at my mouth.
Because the truth was simple.
I couldn't stop thinking about Jaxon.
Not during class.
Not while writing.
Not while eating lunch.
Not while pretending to pay attention during lectures.
Every ordinary moment eventually led back to him.
His laugh.
His smile.
The way he looked at me when he thought I wasn't paying attention.
The feeling of riding on the back of his motorcycle with my arms wrapped around his waist.
Everything.
The relationship was still new.
Fragile in some ways.
Yet every day felt more real than the last.
The realization settled warmly inside my chest.
Class passed quickly.
Then another.
Then another.
For the first time all semester, I actually enjoyed being on campus.
I participated in discussions.
Answered questions.
Even volunteered feedback during workshop.
Apparently happiness made me more social.
Who knew?
Several classmates noticed.
More than several.
By mid-afternoon, three different people had commented on my mood.
One asked whether I'd won an award.
Another wanted to know if I'd started dating someone.
The third simply stared suspiciously and said, "You're glowing."
I wasn't entirely sure how to respond to that.
The answer was simple.
A six-foot-three biker with tattoos and a surprisingly soft heart.
Unfortunately, that wasn't exactly a casual conversation starter.
By five o'clock, I was exhausted.
Not from classes.
From smiling.
A strange problem to have.
I exited the final building and immediately spotted a familiar motorcycle parked across the street.
My entire day improved.
Just like that.
Jaxon leaned against the bike with his arms crossed.
Dark jeans.
Black T-shirt.
Leather jacket.
The usual combination.
Several students walking nearby glanced at him.
A few openly stared.
I understood the reaction.
Unfortunately.
The moment he noticed me, his expression softened.
Only slightly.
Most people would've missed it.
I never did.
Warmth flooded my chest.
There he was.
Home.
The realization arrived so naturally it startled me.
Home.
Not a place.
A person.
Dangerous thought.
Very dangerous.
Yet undeniably true.
I crossed the street toward him.
His gaze never left mine.
"Hey."
The word came out softer than intended.
Jaxon's mouth twitched.
Almost a smile.
"Hey."
The familiar comfort settled immediately.
Like breathing easier after holding your breath too long.
"How was class?"
I groaned dramatically.
"Terrible."
"Liar."
"Fine."
"Thought so."
I laughed.
God.
I loved this.
The ease.
The familiarity.
The way being around him made everything feel simpler.
Jaxon handed me a spare helmet.
I accepted it automatically.
One of the small routines we'd developed.
The gesture felt strangely intimate.
A normal thing transformed into something meaningful because it belonged to us.
Neither of us noticed the man standing near the administration building.
At least not at first.
He blended into the crowd easily.
Mid-thirties.
Business casual clothing.
Campaign badge clipped discreetly inside his jacket pocket.
A phone in one hand.
A coffee in the other.
Someone I vaguely recognized.
The realization arrived too late.
As I secured the helmet, my eyes drifted across the street.
Then froze.
My stomach immediately tightened.
No.
No.
No.
I knew him.
Not personally.
But well enough.
Michael Grant.
One of my father's campaign staff members.
Not senior staff.
Not important enough to appear on television.
But close enough to the campaign to matter.
Close enough to report things.
Close enough to ask questions.
For one terrible second, panic threatened to surface.
Michael's gaze shifted toward us.
Toward Jaxon.
Toward me.
Recognition flashed across his face.
Not certainty.
Not yet.
But curiosity.
Dangerous curiosity.
I immediately looked away.
Too late.
The damage was already done.
"Everything okay?"
Jaxon's voice pulled my attention back.
I forced a smile.
The effort felt painful.
"Yeah."
Lie.
Obvious lie.
His eyes narrowed.
Concern appearing instantly.
The sight made my chest ache.
Because I knew something he didn't.
The outside world had finally noticed us.
Or at least noticed enough to start asking questions.
And in my father's world, questions were rarely harmless.
Across the street, Michael lifted his phone.
Not openly.
Not obviously.
Just enough to glance at the screen while watching us.
The movement sent ice through my veins.
I climbed onto the motorcycle behind Jaxon.
Wrapped my arms around his waist.
Held on tightly.
For the first time in weeks, fear settled heavily in my stomach.
Because as the motorcycle pulled away from campus, I couldn't shake the feeling that something important had just changed.
And somewhere behind us, a man connected to Senator Thomas Reed was already beginning to wonder why the senator's son looked so comfortable riding away with a tattooed biker.
One Last Ride
The moment Elliot wrapped his arms around my waist outside campus, I knew something was wrong.
Not because he held on tighter than usual.
Because he went quiet.
Elliot wasn't naturally loud, but he'd become more comfortable around me over the past few weeks. Most rides home involved stories about classes, complaints about professors, or excited explanations about whatever chapter he was currently writing.
This ride was different.
Silent.
Thoughtful.
Tense.
I felt it in the way he held himself.
The way his arms remained tight around my middle.
The way he barely spoke when we stopped at a traffic light.
By the time we reached Kane Customs, concern had settled firmly into my chest.
The motorcycle rolled beneath the garage overhang.
I killed the engine.
Elliot climbed off behind me.
Normally he'd immediately start talking.
Today he removed his helmet and stared toward the road.
Lost somewhere inside his own thoughts.
"You gonna tell me what's wrong?"
His head lifted immediately.
The expression on his face made my stomach tighten.
There it was.
Fear.
Real fear.
Not panic.
Not anxiety.
Something heavier.
Something specific.
The look disappeared almost instantly.
Replaced by a forced smile.
"I'm okay."
Lie.
A terrible one.
I crossed my arms.
"Elliot."
His shoulders dropped.
Defeated.
The reaction alone told me everything.
Whatever this was, it mattered.
"I saw someone from my father's campaign."
I frowned.
"Okay."
"On campus."
The pieces began connecting.
Slowly.
Not completely.
But enough.
"The guy saw us together."
Silence settled between us.
I immediately understood why he was worried.
Senator Thomas Reed wasn't just some local politician.
The man lived and breathed public image.
Everything had a purpose.
Everything had consequences.