Chapter 35
Skye
The second I step through the main doors of campus, I know they know.
Every whisper feels like it's aimed at me. Every lingering glance, every sudden hush as I pass, it all confirms what I already suspected. Word got out, and it has spread like wildfire. Most of these students had no idea who I was last week. Now everyone does.
They're not subtle about it either.
A group of girls by the bulletin board freeze mid-conversation as I walk by.
One of them elbows the other and tilts her chin in my direction.
I pretend I don't see it, and that my spine isn't stiff with tension, or that my fingers aren't clutched so tightly around the strap of my bag they're turning white.
It's not just the students. Faculty glance at me differently, too.
Some with thinly veiled judgment. Others with pity.
A few of the male professors don't even hide the fact that they are checking me out.
It makes my skin crawl. But no one says a word, and no one stops me.
It's like I've become some kind of myth walking through the halls.
In class, it's worse.
The usual cliques that filled the front and middle rows have migrated backward, leaving an absurd amount of space between me and the rest of the room.
It's comical, really, like something you'd see in a movie.
Do they think I'm radioactive? There's a new professor at the front, older and stiff, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else.
He clears his throat and dives into the syllabus with all the enthusiasm of a DMV worker.
Every so often, he glares at me like it's my fault he's there. And truthfully, it is my fault.
But me? I'm smiling.
Because on my right hand, catching the light every time I shift in my seat, is a ring. It's not a diamond engagement ring or anything flashy. Gage gave it to me as I was walking out the door for class this morning, saying he wanted something of his on me.
The weight of it is grounding. And calming. A reminder of everything we've been through and what we're building.
They can stare all they want. They can whisper and wonder and speculate. But they don't know half of it. They don't know what it took to get here. And they definitely don't know what it feels like to be wanted, really wanted, by someone like Gage.
Still, by the time class ends, the quiet tension has gotten under my skin.
The new professor droned on, but my focus was shot. I tried to take notes, but my handwriting is messier than usual, and the words don't stick. I pack slowly, not in any rush to walk those hallways again. If I'm the last one out, I won't accidentally run into someone.
"Hey."
The voice is soft, hesitant.
I glance up to see a girl hovering beside my desk. She's petite, with thick dark hair pulled into a messy bun. She looks nervous, like she might bolt at any second.
"Hi," I say cautiously.
She fiddles with the strap of her backpack. "I just... I wanted to say something. If that's okay."
I nod. "Go for it."
She bites her lip. "I think you're really brave. What you did, owning what you want, not pretending to be someone you're not... That's powerful."
I blink, caught off guard. "Thank you."
She shrugs, like she's embarrassed now. "I know people are being weird, but screw them. Most of them couldn't handle half of what you've been through."
There's a beat of silence before I offer a small smile. "What's your name?"
"Kayla."
"You want to come to lunch with me?"
She blinks. "Seriously?"
"Yeah. Me and a couple of my friends are meeting for lunch. You should join us."
Her face lights up in a way that makes my chest loosen. "Okay. Yeah. That'd be awesome."
As we walk together toward the cafe, I sneak a sideways glance at her. She's got a quiet energy, like someone used to observing more than speaking, but there's a steadiness about her too.
"So, that was your first class with the fill-in too?" I ask.
She nods. "Yeah. I wasn't sure what it was going to be like... but then I saw you and figured, if you can walk through that crowd like a queen, I can make it through class with a boring, uptight professor."
I laugh, "I didn't exactly feel like a queen."
"You looked like one."
"Have you really never thought about just telling everyone to go to hell?" she asks.
"Oh, all the time. But I don't need to. I won. Gage is on to a better job, and I have a man who loves me more than I love myself and treats me like a princess," I smile.
Kayla grins. "You really don't care what they think?"
I pause. "I care. But I care more about being happy, about being honest about Gage."
She nods as if she understands that completely. "Good for you. Seriously."
The moment we sit down, Summer and Gemma take Kayla in like she's always belonged.
"So, how do you know Skye?" Summer asks, popping a fry into her mouth.
"We're in the same class," Kayla says. "She invited me. I didn't think she would."
"Why not?" Gemma asks, brows raised.
Kayla shrugs. "You guys seem kind of out of my league. I have not made many friends here. My best friend and I grew up next door, and she recently got married and wasn't interested in getting her major like we had planned, so it's been lonely.
"And yet here you are," Summer says, grinning. "So, tell us, do you have someone special?"
"I didn't bring her for you guys to grill her!" I say, trying to redirect the conversation.
Kayla hesitates. Then, quietly, she says, "It's okay. There's someone I like, but... it's complicated."
Gemma leans forward. "Ooh. Complicated is our specialty. Give us a hint."
Kayla fidgets with her water glass. "He's older. Like... significantly older."
I raise a brow. "How much older?"
"Like... more than a decade."
Summer and I glance at each other and laugh.
"Girl," Summer says. "We know the feeling."
Kayla's eyes widen. "Wait, really?"
"You're in good company. You know my story," I assure her.
"And this girl here?" Gemma points to Summer. "My best friend growing up, and she is now married to my dad."
Kayla's jaw drops.
"That one," I point to Gemma. "Is engaged to a guy a decade older than her."
"So, you guys get it. I haven't even seen him in a while," Kayla admits. "School got busy, and the last time I went to the Club was over two years ago. Not that he ever gave me the time of day."
Gemma's fork stops mid-air. "The Club?"
Kayla's eyes go wide like she hadn't meant to say that, and she blushes bright red. "Club Red. I used to go back when things were different."
"Girl! You were meant to be our friend! Gemma's fiancé owns Club Red. Summer met her husband there, and I met Gage there!" I laugh.
"Really? I took my best friend, Emma, there, and that's when she met her husband, Zion, her ex's brother of all things," Kayla says, coming out of her shell.
"I met Zion and Emma at the Christmas party last year," Gemma nods.
Gemma sets down her fork. "Now you really have to spill."
Kayla blushes, but there's mischief in her eyes now. "Okay, fine. I went to the Club a lot and took Emma and everything. It kind of woke something up in me. I realized I wasn't just into the surface-level stuff. I wanted more. Power, submission, control, but only with someone I trusted."
I nod, completely understanding.
"Alright, who's the guy?" Gemma presses.
Kayla bites her lip. "You have to promise not to judge."
"Never," we say in unison.
She takes a breath. "It's my ex's dad."
Our jaws drop at the same time.
"Shut up," Summer breathes.
"No way," Gemma adds.
Kayla just grins. "Way. I ran into him at Club Red the last time I was there."
"Oh! I wonder if it's someone we know," Gemma says.
"His name is Hunter Crespin," she says, making our jaws drop.
"Yep, Carter and he are good friends," Gemma says.
"Gage is good friends with him too," I say.
"Swear you won't say anything," Kayla says.
"We swear. Girl Code and all," Summer says, and we all agree.
The rest of lunch, Kayla fits in like she has been in our group for ages.
And suddenly, I don't feel quite so alone anymore.