10. Sylvester
Chapter 10
Sylvester
A lex didn’t come.
The beach party had been going on for hours, the sky now a deep, inky black, but still she was nowhere to be found.
I shouldn’t have been surprised, considering how our tutoring session ended the night before, but I couldn’t help feeling a small twinge of disappointment that she’d turned down my invitation.
No one had ever rejected me before.
We were gathered around our usual spot by a separate bonfire, while the other students chatted and laughed nearby, kicking off their weekend festivities.
Cam held up his empty beer bottle and announced that he was finished with it.
I motion to a nearby freshman, and they rush off to grab him another, returning in just a few seconds with a fresh cold one.
“Does anyone else need anything?” they ask timidly, looking around at our group.
Sutton declines, and Bishop simply grunts in response, barely looking up from the flames of the fire.
He’s been in a bad mood all evening, but that’s nothing new—he always seems to have a dark cloud hanging over him.
“Actually, I could use—” Ophelia starts to say before I cut her off abruptly.
“Everyone’s good,” I tell the freshman dismissively.
“You can go now.” They scurry away quickly, eager to avoid any further interaction with our group.
Ophelia shoots me an irritated look, but I ignore it.
She knows better than to ask for favors from the underclassmen while around us.
Being a Legacy is a privilege that only a select few can claim.
Just because she’s dating one of us doesn’t automatically make her a part of our circle, much to her annoyance.
I scan the beach again, hoping to catch a glimpse of Alex’s familiar silhouette against the flickering firelight.
Nothing.
“Would you relax? What’s up with you? You’ve been acting as moody as Bishop since we got here,” Cam says, having enough of my restlessness.
Bishop glares at Cam, but doesn’t bother responding to the jab.
I shrug, trying to appear nonchalant.
I casually inform the group, “I invited Alex.”
Cam chokes on his drink, and a concerned freshman rushes over to offer him some water.
After taking a few sips, he asks me in a raspy voice, “Why the hell would you do that? She’s going to think she belongs here with us.”
My sister mutters beside me, “Sounds like something we’ve dealt with before.” She was referring to Ophelia, and from the scowl on her face, it was clear she’d overheard Sutton’s comment.
But she did the smart thing, biting her tongue and staying quiet.
“I’m just playing my part, still trying to get info out of her.”
Cam’s expression turns smug.
“Ohhh, I get it. You finally listened to me and hooked up with her, huh?”
I hesitate, and my twin catches it.
“Is that true? Did you get with Alex?”
I notice Bishop lift his eyes, though not his chin, showing the barest of interest in the conversation for the first time all evening.
Ophelia, sensing his shift at the mention of Alex, tries to inch closer to him, but he shrugs her off without so much as a glance.
I watch the uncaring dismissal unfold, but chalk it up to my friend still being pissed about what Ophelia did earlier this morning in their class.
The buzz around campus has been nonstop ever since.
Ophelia probably loved the extra attention, whereas the rest of us just tolerate her.
It’s why Bishop’s put up with her for so long.
She knew how to listen and usually stayed out of our business.
At least, that used to be true.
Guess not so much anymore.
“Yeah? Have you?” Bishop insists when I don’t respond immediately.
There’s an underlying tension in his voice that I can’t quite decipher.
I hesitate. What Alex mentioned the other night repeats in my head.
Was she right? Do we really all just rally around Bishop and do as he asks?
“She still refuses to participate in the games.” There.
That should be enough to appease him.
He’s been acting weird tonight anyway.
“But you haven’t fucked her? Haven’t touched her?” he presses, not letting go of a conversation I didn’t feel like continuing.
My mouth turns down.
“Since when do you care?”
“I don’t. But I need you to think more with the brain in your head and less with the one between your legs.”
I raise an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at my lips.
“Funny…I’ve never heard a single complaint about the one between my legs.”
“Maybe that’s the problem.” His voice is low but still clear enough for me to catch, his words laced with something sharp and frustrated.
“I’m being strategic,” I say evenly, barely holding my tongue.
“Isn’t that what you wanted?”
I notice Bishop’s muscles along his chest and arms tense, but he doesn’t say anything more.
Instead, he just takes a long sip of his drink, his gaze flicking across the flames, as if pretending the conversation hadn’t stirred something in him.
Ophelia, sensing the lull, leans forward with a slow smile.
“You know,” she starts, “I for one think it’s a great idea. You help her, we get information. It’s a win-win for the group.”
Cam snorts from the opposite side of the fire.
“Yeah, Ophelia, I’m sure that’s the only reason you want this,” he says, flicking his eyes over at Bishop.
“And I’m sure it has nothing to do with that little jealous streak you’ve got running. Remember when you nearly slapped that girl in the hall last week because you thought she was standing too close to Bishop? Real team player energy there.”
Ophelia’s jaw flexes, but she doesn’t respond right away, her eyes thinning just enough for everyone to notice.
“And don’t say it’s a win-win for our group,” Sutton adds, clearly irritated by her presence.
“We all know what’s really motivating you.”
Ophelia huffs, attempting to brush off the tension with a shrug.
“Look, Sly,” she says with a slight whine, “all I’m saying is I think you fucking Alex could be beneficial—”
“No.”
My head snaps in Bishop’s direction, the same as everyone else’s.
The single word strikes like a hammer, its finality and strength catching the entire group by surprise.
It’s not just a rejection—it’s an order, one that shuts down any further discussion.
“But—”
“I said no,” Bishop repeats when Ophelia is the only one foolish enough to think she can change his mind.
“Ever heard that word before?” His tone makes it clear it’s more of a statement than a question, the corner of his mouth twitching as if there’s some private joke he’s not sharing.
Honestly, hadn’t Ophelia learned her lesson this morning?
I heard it was pretty embarrassing for her, though I wasn’t surprised.
Bishop’s stubbornness was unbreakable, a force of nature that refused to be swayed.
He was like a boulder—unyielding, immovable, with an inflexibility that could withstand even the strongest winds and tides.
Bishop shoots me a pointed look, though it’s clear his words are aimed at the entire group.
“No one fucks Prescott. No touching, no flirting, no pretending like you’re her damn hero. We need her gone, not distracted by any of you.” His tone is firm, final, like he’s drawing a line in the sand.
The air around him crackles with authority, like he’s already decided what the boundaries are.
I’m about to say something sarcastic, but I bite my tongue, watching him closely.
There’s something about the way he says it that makes me think it’s not just about getting Alex to leave Altair.
His words cut deeper than they should.
Maybe even a little too deeply.
My mind drifts to another time, sophomore year, when Ophelia had gotten jealous over a girl bold enough to openly flirt with Bishop.
The girl had shown up to class the next day with a noticeably shorter, uneven haircut.
Rumor had it, someone had snuck up behind her and snipped off a few inches, though no one could ever prove who it was.
Though we all knew.
Alex’s words flash through my mind again, unbidden.
Each of you are still playing his game, he’s just great at pretending you’re not.
“Since when are you in charge of what each of us do?” I snap, my voice suddenly sharp, not quite able to keep the edge of annoyance out.
Bishop’s expression doesn’t change.
It’s as cold and unyielding as it always is when he’s challenged.
“Since my family became the one with the most to lose.” His voice drops, calculated and final.
“Or had you forgotten? It was my mother who was engaged to Prescott’s father before everything went to shit.”
The air was heavy with unspoken tension, like a thick fog that obscured our true emotions.
The flames of the bonfire seemed to hiss and snap with restless energy.
The orange glow reflects off of Bishop’s face, casting menacing shadows that dance along his sharp cheekbones and jawline.
His eyes, dark and unfeeling, bore into me without wavering.
The silence stretched, suffocating, until Bishop stood abruptly.
The movement was swift.
No warning, no hesitation.
He grabbed Ophelia by the arm, yanking her toward him with a force that made her stumble.
She didn’t protest, too eager to follow, too willing to go wherever he led.
It was no surprise. After the way he’d treated her this morning, I knew she’d do whatever it took to get back into his good graces…
And he knew it too.
Bishop didn’t even glance back at the group, as he jerked Ophelia along.
Before they could disappear into the darkness, I called out, my voice a sharp reminder: “Oh, and Ophelia,” I said, making sure she heard me.
“It’s Sylvester to you. Only my friends get to call me Sly.”
She didn’t even flinch.
Bishop walked them down the shoreline, their figures swallowed by the night, leaving a lingering coldness in their wake that had nothing to do with the storm that was slowly brewing.
And I wasn’t just referring to the one that seemed to have held off the coast of Altair the entire day.
The mood grows heavy as the seconds stretch on.
Cam clears his throat, clearly searching for a way to break the awkwardness that’s so unlike us.
We weren’t uncomfortable.
We made others feel that way.
“So, uh, anyone hear about the party Christopher Harris is throwing for his birthday?”
Sutton jumps in, eager to move past the confrontation.
“Yeah, he mentioned it when we crossed paths outside the natatorium a few days ago.”
The conversation picks up again, albeit stilted and forced.
I tune it out, my eyes once again scanning the beach.
The crowd has thinned a bit as the night wears on, and it looks like it might rain, but there’s still no sign of Alex.
I rub at my chest, absently.
Damn. I really wasn’t used to this getting stood up thing.
Cam takes a long swig of his beer before pulling a flask from his jacket pocket.
“Anyone up for some shots to lighten the mood?” he asks with a grin.
Sutton’s mouth twists in distaste, but she doesn’t protest as Cam pours generous amounts of liquor into the plastic cups scattered around our circle.
I take mine without a word and throw it back in one go, letting the burn roll down my throat.
“To another thrilling night being a Legacy,” Cam says, toasting sarcastically after refilling my cup.
This time we all clink our cups together halfheartedly and throw back the shots together.
The vodka burns going down, but I welcome the warmth spreading through my chest. Maybe it will help dull the disappointment and frustration of the evening.
Cam tips over the empty flask in his hand, a frown forming on his lips.
“We’re out,” he declares, scanning the shoreline for any new potential sources.
Another student hurries over, eager to assist, but Cam dismissively waves them away.
His attention is now drawn to a different group of students, and he locks eyes with a girl standing among them.
A sly grin forms on his face as he winks at her and she grins back.
“I think I found my next fix,” he announces before getting up from his seat and making his way toward her.
“Well, we won’t be seeing him for the rest of the night,” Sutton says dryly.
I snort, knowing exactly how it goes with Cam.
Once he’s fixated on something, there’s no stopping him—especially if it’s got long legs and a killer set of tits.
“So are we going to talk about what went down earlier?” Sutton asks, breaking the short silence that has fallen over us again.
I shrug, not meeting her eyes.
“Nothing to talk about.”
“Bullshit,” she retorts.
“You invited Alex here, knowing full well how Bishop would react. And don’t think I didn’t notice how you’ve been watching for her all night. What’s going on with you?” As a twin, Sutton always seemed to have a deeper understanding of me than anyone else, which could be frustrating at times.
Like now, for example.
I run my tongue over my lower lip, leaning forward.
“Do we always just blindly follow Bishop’s orders without questioning them?”
“Why do you ask?”
I hesitate, weighing my words carefully.
“I don’t know… I’m starting to wonder if we’re even on the right path. Is Bishop’s vendetta against Alex really justified?” I pause, the weight of the thought pressing on me.
This was our parents’ fight, not ours.
And we certainly weren’t going to repeat their mistakes.
So why did it even matter if Alex stayed at Altair?
She looks at me, her gaze sharp and calculating.
“What made you change your mind? I thought you wanted her out too.”
Sutton always seemed to see right through me, probably because she was the only one in the group who didn’t just fall in line, the same way she stubbornly refused to give up on this art idea of hers.
She’d been skeptical about our plot against Alex from the start, and maybe I just hadn’t been paying as close attention as I should have.
“I… Never mind. A storm’s about to roll in,” I say, gesturing toward the dark clouds gathering over the water.
“We should head back before we get caught in the rain.”
As if on cue, a loud clap of thunder booms across the night sky, accompanied by a bright flash of lightning.
It could almost be choreographed, it happened so perfectly in sync, showcasing the moody, unpredictable nature of Altair.
Sutton wrinkles her nose.
“Honestly? The beach smells better than our hallway right now. I think your room is finally starting to rot our floor, Sly.”
I roll my eyes.
“Maybe the breeze finally started blowing Prescott dormitory’s awful stench our way.”
“I don’t know how anyone lives in that dorm.” She lets out a soft snort but keeps her eyes on me, her amusement fading just slightly.
“Seriously, though. What’s going on with you?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve been off tonight. “More dramatic than usual.
” She squints at me, trying to read past whatever I’ve been keeping locked down.
I hesitate, jaw tightening, and she catches it.
Sutton sighs, frustration clear in her exhale.
“Fine, don’t tell me. But whatever’s going on, you better figure it out fast.” Her tone cuts through the air like a warning, and I can feel the weight of her words hanging between us.
As we walk back toward campus, the wind picks up, biting at my skin, and sending Sutton’s hair flying beneath her headband.
The air between us is thick with discomfort, as if the storm’s not just in the sky but creeping up on us, too.
Droplets of rain hit me, sharp and cold.
As we near the courtyard, my eyes catch a single figure standing near the natatorium.
Arms crossed, their stance tense as they stay sheltered beneath the awning.
Alex.
I slow my steps without meaning to, my feet feeling like they’re stuck in place.
There’s this twist in my gut, a weird mix of frustration and something else I can’t name.
Sutton notices right away.
Her eyes narrow, sharp and calculating, darting between me and Alex, as if she’s piecing something together.
“What is it?” she asks, her voice tinged with suspicion.
I don’t answer right away.
I can’t. The words won’t come because I can’t even make sense of them right now.
It’s not just the sight of Alex—it’s the whole mess that is her.
The way she rejected me, not just tonight, but ever since the masquerade ball.
Her reaction to me felt like a personal attack, like I wasn’t even worth a second thought.
I glance at my twin, her gaze now locked on me with something approaching understanding.
But I look away quickly, back to Alex standing alone by the natatorium, my chest still tight from earlier.
What the hell is this?
“Well,” Sutton says, sounding almost dismissive, like I was being dumb for not seizing this unexpected moment and taking it.
“Are you going to go help her or what?”
It’s not like me to feel this conflicted.
But something about Alex…
something about her shutting me down, making me feel like I wasn’t even worth a second glance, is messing with my head.
I glance back at her, standing under the awning, looking like she couldn’t care less.
She’s as closed off as ever, her arms crossed defensively as the rain pelts all around her.
I have the urge to leave her there, reject her like she rejected me, but it’s quickly overshadowed by something else.
I’ve always been up for a challenge.
Not to brag, but I take pride in knowing my way around campus—gaining access to spaces, to people.
It’s never been hard.
And I’ve never been the guy who gets snubbed—not like this.
I don’t like how it feels.
Sutton must see something on my face because she smirks.
“I’ll meet you back at our building later. Maybe crack a window in your room or something—I’d like to be able to breathe near my door again.”
She starts to walk off, then calls over her shoulder, “It’s not that bad yet, but if whatever’s growing in there starts spreading, I’m filing an official complaint—with you.”
We break apart, each shifting in opposite directions.
The rain falls heavier, but I don’t care.
I’m not in a rush to get soaked.
I’m in a rush to figure this out.
To figure her out.
Besides, I don’t always do as Bishop says.
I’m allowed to make my own choices, and right now, I want to prove to Alex that I’m not someone she can just easily write off.
“Hey,” I murmur, sliding my hands into my pockets as I move to share her space under the shelter.
Alex’s eyes meet mine, as if she’s just now noticing I’m there.
A deep frown tugs at the corners of her mouth, her expression as indifferent as ever.
“Looks like the rain’s dragged all the worms out of hiding.”