Chapter 15
Chapter
Fifteen
Rose
By the end of the week, Chelsea and I find our rhythm studying in the library. We sit at our usual table by the window, books spread out between us, highlighters uncapped, and notecards on human anatomy scattered around in a perfectly imperfect system that’s entirely ours.
“Okay,” Chelsea groans, dropping her pen. “If I have to go through one more differential diagnosis, I’m going to lose it.”
I chuckle. “You always say that, yet here we are again. Back at it.”
“Because it’s true, babe. I’m hanging on by a thread here.” She leans back in her chair, stretching, her gaze drifting lazily around the room. She suddenly stiffens, sucking in a sharp breath. She grabs my arms, digging her nails into my skin.
“Oh, my God.” Her hold tightens, frozen in place.
I don’t look up right away. “What?” I hiss as her talons claw me tighter.
“Don’t be obvious,” she whispers, but it’s so loud, she might as well be talking normally. “He just walked in.”
My entire body goes rigid. I knew that we might see Maxwell here, but I thought we had planned times that he wouldn’t be here, different from the usual time we all would study together.
Now I feel like a mouse caught in a trap.
I look behind me and to the side, trying to plot my escape route.
My stomach drops, and I think I might be sick.
I don’t want him to cause a scene. Slowly, against my better judgment, I lift my gaze.
A man stands near the entrance, his attention fixed on a table crowded with students.
Then he turns, and relief washes over me.
It's not Maxwell. It's Alex. He stands out immediately in his dark clothes.
Broad shoulders fill out his jacket in the most sinful way.
His eyes sweep the room with that same controlled confidence that seems to draw attention wherever he goes.
I notice more than one group of women watching him before his gaze finally finds mine.
The moment it does, something twists in my chest.
Chelsea exhales beside me. “He’s so hot,” she mutters, completely unashamed. “Unfairly attractive.”
I tear my gaze away from his, forcing myself to look back down at my notes. “Hm.” I pretend to read my paper.
“Don’t ‘hm’ me,” she says, nudging my foot under the table. “You see that, right?”
“Yep.” I force out one word at a time, incapable of saying anything more.
She leans in close, lowering her voice and making another failed attempt as she hisses, “Here he comes. I didn’t think he’d ever make a move after I talked to him last time.”
This gets my attention, as I remember the walk back to my old shared apartment when she asked for his number, but he politely turned her down.
Before I can respond, a shadow falls over the table.
“Hey,” his melodic voice rumbles deep, and my thighs clench involuntarily. Images of him stepping out of the shower flash through my mind, droplets cascading down his toned abs, wearing nothing but a towel.
“Hey,” Chelsea says back.
My head snaps up. Is he really here for her?
There’s a smile on his lips, a knowing smirk as if he knows exactly what I was thinking. Alex stands there, one hand casually on the back of an empty chair, his attention fixed entirely on me. Not Chelsea.
“Hey,” I say, my voice coming out huskier than I intend. What the fuck? I want to smack myself. Beside me, Chelsea goes rigid, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
“You left before I woke up,” he says.
Oh, you've got to be kidding me. To everyone around us, it sounds like we shared a bed. We didn't, but I doubt anyone's going to ask for clarification.
“I had a quick check-in with my advisor,” I offer up in explanation, although I don’t know why I feel compelled to do so.
His eyes flick briefly over the books spread out in front of us, then back at my face. “Studying?”
“Obviously,” I reply, trying to sound normal when my voice sounds anything but.
Chelsea clears her throat loudly, breaking our little bubble. “Oh, right. Um,” I say quickly. “This is my friend, Chelsea.”
He glances briefly at her. “Hey,” he says with a smile, but it falters when her eyes narrow, and I remember what she said about Alex being into someone else.
Chelsea blinks, caught somewhere between confusion and annoyance. “Hi,” she says, a little too quickly, as she begins gathering her things and shoving them into her backpack. She stands abruptly, looking back at him, and then at me. She begins to walk off.
“Wait,” I call out to her retreating form, standing to follow her. I already know where this is going, and I’m afraid I’m going to lose another friend. I catch up to her, grabbing her arm to stop her. “Chelsea—”
She jerks her shoulder, shrugging me off, her backpack hitting me in the chest. Did I really deserve that? She turns to face me, anger burning as she stares me down.
“Rose,” she says slowly, “why is he talking to you like that? Saying those things? Are you—” Her posture stiffens. I lift my hand up to stop her runaway thoughts.
“No,” I say a little too quickly and a little too loudly. “I’ve been…” I stop, biting my lip.
Chelsea blinks. Then again. “You’ve been what, Rose?”
“It’s temporary,” I add quickly. “Just until I figure out a housing situation.”
“You’re staying with him?” she cuts in, her voice rising despite being in a library. A couple of people glance over.
I lower my voice. “Chelsea—”
She holds up a hand. “You didn’t think to mention that?” she whispers harshly. “You know I’ve been crushing on him.”
“It’s not like that,” I say quickly.
“Really?” she snaps, venom lacing her words. “Because it definitely looks like that.”
I feel his presence behind me. “She needed somewhere to stay,” he says calmly.
Chelsea’s gaze snaps to Alex. “Was she the one you were talking about?”
“Yes.” One single word. No hesitation.
It lands a brutal blow to her ego. The nice Chelsea we’ve known is gone. She lets out a small, humorless laugh. “Wow.” When she looks back at me, it’s more hurt than anything else.
I feel guilty. I knew she liked him, but it wasn't like that. She doesn't know the history between us or that I met him first. The realization hits me before I can stop it. Somewhere along the way, he'd started feeling like mine.
Still, I try to save the friendship. “It wasn’t planned,” I explain weakly because I’m not even trying to deny anything anymore. Alex notices the moment my composure slips.
“I should go,” she says, not looking at either of us. But before she does, she lands one last blow. “You’re just like Lucinda.” Then she’s gone.
I move one leg forward, calling out, “Chelsea—”
Alex grabs my hand, stopping me. I hang my head as his fingers thread through mine, offering silent support.
I stand there staring at her retreating form, wondering how I managed to lose three friends in just a few weeks.
Beside me, Alex doesn’t move. He doesn’t say anything.
I feel his phone vibrate and frown, wondering who it might be.
He doesn’t check it. His focus stays on me, reminding me that I'm not facing this by myself anymore.
Suddenly, I don't feel as alone as I thought I would.
“Hey,” he tugs my arm to get my attention.
“Are you okay?” he asks, his brows lifting, concern clear in his eyes.
I nod once. We don't speak as we leave, but his hand stays wrapped around mine, a simple reassurance that I'm not alone.
I don't pull away. Our fingers lace together easily, like we've done it a hundred times before.
His grip is firm, anchoring me to this world as if I'd drift away if he let go.
I should let go. I don’t, and if I’m being honest, I don’t want to. My mind is still back in the library. She was cruel, but maybe she wasn’t wrong.
You’re just like Lucinda.
That’s all I can hear, and the devastation in her voice.
I guess she really liked Alex, but he even told her that he was into someone else.
I knew who he meant. I felt it too that day at his parents’ house.
I should never have said yes to Maxwell.
I knew it was never going to work out. Maybe I’m as much to blame as he is.
My chest constricts. I didn’t do anything wrong. Nonetheless, the guilt creeps in. I stare straight ahead as we walk, barely registering where we’re going.
“Hey.” Alex’s voice cuts through the loud, intrusive thoughts in my head. I don’t respond. His thumb brushes slowly across the back of my hand. “Rose.”
I blink, pulling myself back to the present. “What?”
“Where’d you go?” He stops walking, pivoting toward me, guiding me toward the brick wall where the foot traffic thins.
“I’m right here,” I answer, confused as to what he means.
“That’s not what I meant. You’re in your head,” he says.
I shrug. “I’ll be fine.” Looking away, I realize I’m fine because he was there. He heard it all and the cruel words she spewed, but he’s still here.
“Are you, though?” He reaches up to turn my head back toward him.
I open my mouth to explain, to tell him I am, but his phone buzzes again.
He frowns slightly, pulling it out. I watch his expression change while he reads the message.
His eyebrows pull together as he reads the next message that comes through.
“What?” I ask, bracing for bad news until he lets out a laugh, shaking his head.
“No way. You’ve got to be kidding me.” He seems, dare I say, excited.
“What is it?”
“My cousin,” he says, still looking at his phone. “He’s here.”
“Here?” I look around.
“Yeah. Apparently, he decided to surprise me before we head home for Thanksgiving.”
I raise an eyebrow. “That sounds…ominous.”
He chuckles. “You have no idea.”
His phone buzzes again. “He’s asking where I am.”
“Well,” I try to shake off the reminder of being by myself for the holidays. “Tell him you’re busy,” I say jokingly.
A faint smirk pulls at his lips. “I just might.”