Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Bea hadn’t planned on stopping. But here she was.
It was late in the day, almost too late for exploring.
But after hours of studying, she needed air. Movement.
She’d headed out. After half a year, she still hadn’t even explored the entire St. Ives campus yet. There were a lot of thoughts and feelings tangled inside her that she hadn’t fully processed. The date. Georgina’s analysis. And then that one line.
“Tell me the truth, Georgie. Is he keeping her entertained?”
Bea scowled at the memory, walking a little faster as the night air bit against her skin.
She knew it was bait. And it was working. That was the problem. It had been a month since they’d even talked directly. Whatever game he was playing, she didn’t have to acknowledge it.
And then she heard it. The steady, rhythmic thud of a ball against pavement.
Bea slowed.
The courts.
They were tucked away, not flooded with lights, as though this part of campus was kept in shadow on purpose.
The faint glow of streetlamps cast long, slanted lines across the pavement, flickering with each bounce of the ball.
Sneakers scraped against the asphalt, sharp in the quiet, punctuating the hush of the late evening.
Two figures were on the court. Bea recognized one of them instantly.
Rafael.
Her pulse kicked hard in her throat.
The man with him had dark blond hair, moving with the fluid confidence that spoke of long familiarity with Rafael’s pace. She’d seen them together countless times. His closest friend, she guessed.
Bea didn’t know him at all, but that didn’t matter.
What mattered was that he was the only witness.
She waited just at the edge of the court, in the spill of low, flickering light, watching.
The ball moved like it was part of him. Rafael dribbled low and fast, the rhythm instinctive.
As if by muscle memory. Motion over thought.
Across from him, his friend mirrored his steps, pushing back with enough resistance to keep the edge honed. Neither of them spoke.
She could leave. Walk past, pretend she hadn’t seen anything, let it go.
But she didn’t.
Before she fully thought it through…she was already moving.
Rafael’s focus snapped up to her. Tracked her like a heartbeat.
The dress she wore was delicate, soft. His gaze dragged over it, slow and pointed, as she approached—and kept approaching until she was in front of him, looking up.
He seemed to almost smile at her boldness.
“Heard you were asking about me,” Bea said by way of hello.
Rafael caught the ball mid-dribble, fingers flexing over the rubber.
“Well,” he drawled. “Look who found me.”
“Is that an answer?”
His friend, who had been relegated to an afterthought, chimed in. “Hi, I’m Sebastian. And now I’m going to get some water. Try not to kill each other.”
“Try not to eavesdrop,” Rafael called over his shoulder.
Sebastian just laughed. “Yeah, sure.”
Bea had a feeling he was definitely going to eavesdrop.
But she only nodded toward Sebastian, and then waited until he at least looked like he was out of earshot. “What was that supposed to mean?” she asked Rafael.
“What?”
She counted to ten in her head. “You know what. That comment to Georgie.”
His expression was all provocation. “You mean, Tell me the truth, Georgie. Is he keeping her entertained?”
Bea’s spine stiffened at the way he purposely repeated it.
“Didn’t think you’d hear about that so soon.”
A muscle ticked in her cheek. “Was I supposed to?”
“Eventually.”
Her fingers curled into her sleeves. “Why?”
Rafael tilted his head. “Why did it bother you?”
She bristled. “It didn’t.”
His mouth kicked up in quiet satisfaction. His gaze dropped to her mouth. “No?”
She exhaled sharply. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
Bea folded her arms, but not casually. It was armor. “Turn everything into a test.”
“You think it was a test?”
“It always feels like it,” she muttered quietly.
“Then why are you here?” he challenged.
“Because if you have something to say to me, say it. Don’t go through Georgina.”
“You prefer I come to you directly?” His brow lifted, eyes illuminated. “Miss me, little Bea?”
That caught her off guard. Her body thrummed with tension—she held her composure on the outside, but panic flared inwardly. She took a small step back. Only a fraction, but when she saw his eyes flit to her feet she knew he’d noticed.
His gaze cooled, recalibrated. “Since you’re here, you can answer me yourself.” She held herself very still, but didn’t look away. “Is he keeping you entertained?”
Her hands bunched into tiny fists. Finally, she said flatly, “Goodnight, Rafael.”
He didn’t bother replying as she walked away, spine straight, shoulders tense.
And then, she ran.
Bea dropped onto her bed, phone dangling from her fingers, still buzzing with irritation, and another feeling she didn’t want to analyze.
She shouldn’t have stopped. Shouldn’t have said anything.
But Rafael had needed to know he wasn’t going to get under her skin. Except he had. And that smug, knowing look of his told her he knew it.
Bea huffed, unlocking her phone and tapping out a message.
BEYA SLAYA: Why am I the way I am?
She stared at it for a second before hitting Send. A few seconds later, the dots appeared.
CLAIRE BEAR: Because you try so hard to do the right thing and then it backfires spectacularly. It’s kind of endearing.
Bea groaned into her pillow. Another buzz.
CLAIRE BEAR: Wait. What did you do?
Bea sighed.
BEYA SLAYA: Nothing. Just saw Rafael and decided to be an idiot about it.
CLAIRE BEAR: You always get weird around him. It’s almost a talent.
BEYA SLAYA: I know.
She dropped her phone onto the bed, rubbing her face.
Her phone buzzed again, and she rolled onto her back, expecting another truth bomb from Claire.
But it wasn’t Claire.
Incoming call: Gage King
Bea stared at the screen.
Her frustration refocused, sharpened into something else. For a second, she considered ignoring it. But no part of her actually wanted to.
She slid her thumb across the screen. “Hello?”
“You’re awake.”
Bea shifted in bed, tugging the covers higher. “I could say the same to you.”
“It’s one of those weeks.” She heard the faint shuffle of papers, the muted clink of a glass. “Thought I’d check in.”
Her pulse flickered. “Check in?”
“To see if you were still thinking about me.”
Bea huffed softly into the dark. “Is that something you need confirmed?”
“No,” Gage said. “But I like hearing you admit it.”
She bit her lip. “It’s late.”
“Mhm.” He didn’t sound the least bit sorry. “What are you wearing?”
Bea blinked at the ceiling. “Seriously?”
A soft exhale through the line. Not quite a laugh. “Don’t answer. I’d rather find out in person.”
Her cheeks warmed, but she didn’t say anything.
“Saturday,” he said. “Six o’clock. Wear something warm.”
Bea dithered. Her grip tightened on the blanket. “What are we doing?”
“You’ll see,” he teased. His voice dropped, velvet and lethal. “Think you can wait for me?”
She tucked the covers under her chin, suddenly too warm. “Gage…”
“Five days.”
She gave a small smile. “I think I’ll survive.”
“You think,” he repeated, slow and amused. “I’m not so sure. Not with the way you looked at me the other night.”
Her cheeks burned, and she was grateful he couldn’t see it. “You’re imagining things.”
“I don’t imagine,” he said. “I observe.”
Bea exhaled, rolling onto her back, staring at the ceiling. She had no response.
“Go to sleep, Bea. Sweet dreams.”
Of course she lay there wide awake, staring into the dark. Rafael was forgotten.
Her attention was exactly where Gage wanted it.
Bea’s room was the softest part of the sprawling Mayfield Hall apartment.
It smelled faintly of black raspberry sugar from the candle flickering on her dresser.
A knitted throw from Toronto was draped over her bed, and her favorite Little Miss Sunshine mug sat half full of chamomile tea on the nightstand.
A few outrageously plush, furry pastel cushions dotted the room.
Photos lined the dresser: her parents laughing in front of the Port of Toronto; Claire mid-eye-roll with a peace sign; the four of them squinting into the sun at their high-school graduation.
Small reminders of home, carefully arranged like proof she still belonged to another life.
If she stared at them long enough, maybe she’d still be that version of herself.
“Your room’s really pretty,” Lillian said quietly from the window seat, her knees drawn up beneath an oversized thrifted cardigan. She twisted the hem of her sleeve between her fingers, light brown hair loose and tucked behind one ear, the ends curling from the damp wind outside.
Bea smiled as she dragged the black subscription box onto the bed. “Thanks. I went for cozy. Georgina’s room looks like Architectural Digest. I can’t compete.”
Lillian tugged her cardigan tighter. “Claire would like it.”
Bea laughed. “Claire would last five minutes here. She’d get banned for fighting with a barista.”
Lillian’s lips tilted up in the smallest smile. “She sounds fun.”
“She’s trouble.” Bea flipped open the lid. “Alright. Ready to judge my life choices?”
Inside were six pristine winter pieces folded into crisp tissue: a long dove-grey wool coat, a light brown sweater dress, a high-neck cashmere top, a checkered blazer, a heavy oatmeal cardigan, and tailored navy slacks.
Bea lifted the coat first, smoothing her hand over the lining.
The tags inside felt almost unreal; brands she’d never imagined touching, much less wearing.
She half expected someone to knock on her door and demand them back.
Lillian leaned forward slightly, her eyes widening. “Wow.”
Bea grinned. “Right? Claire’s been begging me to do this since before I left. Monthly rentals. There’s no way I can buy this stuff outright, but…I’ve already spent more on clothes in the last few months than I did in years.”
Lillian’s fingers paused in the fabric of her sleeve. “Because people are saying things?”
“Not outright. Not always. Just…little digs. ‘Interesting choice.’ Or, ‘That’s actually cute on you.’” She gave a thin smile. “It’s like an inside joke I’m not in on.”
They unpacked the pieces in silence, laying them carefully on the bed.
Lillian traced a fold in the fabric. “It’s not just the clothes. People are talking.”
Bea stilled. “About what?”
“You and Gage.”
“Oh?”
“It’s not whether you are…it’s how serious.”
Bea nodded slowly. “It’s St. Ives.”
“And it’s Gage King.” Lillian gave a small shrug. “If it were someone else, maybe they’d wonder. But with him? No one expects you to say no.”
She didn’t like assumptions, but this one sat uncomfortably close to the truth.
It was Gage King. Who would say no?
Lillian’s gaze lifted, just briefly. “Are you going on a second date?”
Bea smirked. “Yeah. He told me yesterday.”
“Told you?” Lillian’s eyes widened slightly.
Bea shrugged. “Didn’t really ask. Just said to be ready.”
They hung the new pieces in Bea’s wardrobe, making space between florals and the cardigans Claire had helped her pack.
Bea looked over. “You always look amazing. Seriously. Your thrift finds are legendary.”
Lillian ducked her head, cheeks turning pink. “It’s easier when no one’s watching.”
Bea snorted. “Lillian, people are obsessed with your thirty-dollar Chanel blazer.”
“It was twenty-five.”
Bea laughed, tension breaking. “You’re ridiculous. And kind of my hero.”
For a while, they worked in silence, the wind brushing softly at the glass.
Then, so softly Bea almost didn’t hear, Lillian said, “I think I’ve noticed Rafael…sometimes.”
Bea didn’t stop smoothing a skirt over a hanger. “Noticed?”
“At the coffee cart. In the hallway. Just anywhere you are. He watches you.”
Bea’s stomach tightened. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“Really?”
“Maybe I’m…trying not to.”
Maybe she had been since the beginning. Ignorance was easier to manage than temptation.
With surprising bluntness, Lillian said, “Gage looks like he could ruin you. But Rafael…Rafael looks like he’d enjoy it.”
Bea barked a laugh. “Love that journey for me.”
Lillian smiled, almost apologetic. “Sorry.”
“You’re not sorry.”
They both laughed quietly, the air between them lightening again.
“But you handle it.” There was a softness in Lillian’s voice, something like respect. “The comments. The guys. Everything.”
Bea shrugged. “Doesn’t always feel like I do.”
“Looks like you do. Which is more than I could.”
Bea took a sip of lukewarm tea. “Trust me. You can handle more than you think.”
Lillian seemed to absorb that, fingers curling in her sleeve again. After a moment, she asked, “Would you stay? After graduation?”
“I don’t know. But I worked so hard to get here…it feels crazy to leave. You?”
Lillian nodded slowly. “Same. I don’t think I could go back. Like this place gets inside you and…changes you.”
Bea looked toward the window. Beyond the glass, the campus shimmered in the dark—perfect, untouchable. “Guess there are worse places to be trapped.”
They both watched the night for a few seconds.
“Melbourne’s freezing right now,” Lillian murmured. “I miss it.”
Bea thought of home. Her parents probably had the back doors open, fans going, dinner on the grill.
“Mine’s the opposite. They’re melting.”
Lillian gave the tiniest smile. “Maybe one day we can visit.”
“You can freeze in Canada, and I’ll burn in Melbourne.” Bea grinned.
“Deal.”
They packed away the last of the box. Outside, the wind picked up.
For Bea, it was nice to have someone who understood how she felt without needing it explained. Someone else quietly losing pieces of themselves to this place, right alongside her.