Chapter 8
That night, I buckle down and open my laptop.
I know Nova and I sort of have this no digging into the past agreement, but I don’t have a choice.
And I really don’t care who her parents are.
We’ve moved beyond that. I do, however, want to get a good grade on my assignment.
So I take a deep breath and google Nox Monroe.
In an instant, I’m bombarded by articles.
Keywords pop off the page. Swimming prodigy.
Gold medalist. Nepo baby. Hottest athlete. The new G.O.A.T.?
It doesn’t take long to put the pieces together.
His mother is Madeleine Fucking Shaw, and even I’m not so under a rock I don’t know exactly who she is the second I see her picture.
She’s Hollywood royalty. I’m pretty sure my dad has a crush on her.
Hell, my mom, too. They’re both obsessed with her movies.
I can name at least six off the top of my head.
She was a Bond girl. My mom used to love her romantic comedies.
And even though it was definitely before my time, I do remember hearing my parents talk about her divorce as if it were happening to one of the neighbors down the street.
All it takes is a quick search to confirm—and yup, there it is.
Her ex was a cheating bastard with a wandering eye. And also—
I squint to make sure I’m reading it correctly.
“Peter Monroe, the eight-time gold medalist and former husband to A-list actress Madeleine Shaw, was caught getting cozy last night with…”
Nox’s words rush over me. I stayed back in LA with my dad and my coach.
I slam my laptop shut.
What the hell am I doing?
This is an article for an introductory English class, not some exposé for Vanity Fair. I don’t need to go digging into his personal life. I can do the same thing everyone else does and make shit up.
When class finally rolls around on Tuesday afternoon, I brace myself for Nox’s article. But, surprise surprise, Professor Milton picks me to go first.
I clutch my printout and take a deep breath, casting a quick sidelong glance at Nox before I read the title. “What the World Doesn’t Know About Nox Monroe.”
His gaze cuts into me as he shifts his weight in his seat.
I grip the paper tighter. “Ask anyone in the country about Nox Monroe, and chances are they’ll have something to say. He’s a gold medalist. He’s a swimmer. He’s some famous actress’s kid, right? But the freshman class of Swiftmore University knows him as something else entirely—second best.”
A few of my classmates exchange confused glances. Nox doesn’t break his stare.
I swallow my nerves and keep reading. “While he might be the fastest man in the pool, with the world records to show it, outside of the water, he’s just as fallible as everyone else. And the crushing defeat he suffered on the dodgeball field last weekend proves it.”
Someone snickers.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Nox relax back into his seat.
He shakes his head, but he can’t quite cover the slight upturn of his lips.
I fight my smile and continue reading my article, which is basically a play-by-play of my victory, including some gently exaggerated quotes from lunch the next day when Nox called us cheaters.
I’m particularly proud of the closing lines.
“So while the rest of the world knows him as a champion, we here at Swiftmore know the sore loser. Rumor has it he literally turned green with envy.”
“Oh come on,” he mutters under his breath.
“Excellent, Clara,” Professor Milton announces. “You took a subject a lot of people might already know about and found your new angle. It was a bit unorthodox, maybe, but we’ll dig into that. First, Nox. Let’s hear what you’ve got.”
Nox sits tall and clears his throat.
“Clara Hayes,” he says, his deep voice rolling through me like thunder. I actually shiver. It’s annoying. “Pint-Sized Crusader.”
I frown at him, ignoring the chortles breaking out around the table.
Nox continues, a twinkle in his green eyes.
“Clara Hayes isn’t the type to get picked first in gym class.
Five-three and lighter than the average American male can bench-press, she’s not exactly intimidating.
But while some are gifted with brawn, others with brains, and still others with beauty, she was gifted with a singular talent to annoy—a fact the Albany County Legislature came to know firsthand when she decided that she, and only she, had a duty to save the local American eel. ”
I immediately snort in the most unladylike way, but I can’t help it.
I know exactly what he wrote about. When I was fourteen, I read an article about the declining eel populations in New York waterways due to man-made barriers like dams restricting their ability to reach natural habitats, and I decided to launch a campaign to get fyke nets and mops implemented in our local Hudson River tributary.
I was in it for the science, but the second I told Mabel, she was in it for the fame.
We snuck out one night and littered the town with illegal flyers.
Then we hung a banner up outside our school.
She helped get our friends to join us in a protest at the local council meeting.
We even went door-to-door harassing all our neighbors to sign a petition, which eventually made it all the way to the Albany County Legislature and got passed.
Because I knew more about it, the local paper only used my quotes in their article.
She was pissed at me for a month for cutting her out.
The thrill of those wild nights has long passed, but the hurt of her disapproval still hits just as sharply. We were always so good together—until we weren’t.
A wave of despair washes over me as I listen to Nox read.
I have no idea how he managed to find all of this out.
He must’ve gone deep into the Google archives.
I’m impressed. But as the rest of the class laughs along with his playful humor, I fight back tears.
He’s a good writer, I’ll give him that. Entertaining and witty.
But no matter how benign his intentions, each word cuts like a knife.
I try my best to stay strong. But as he nears his conclusion, a single drop leaks out from the corner of my eye.
“So, Clara Hayes. Philanthropist or troublemaker? You decide.”
Nox glances up. Every smug curve of his face vanishes the moment he catches me swiping my fingers across my cheek. Everyone else is too focused on him to notice.
“Another excellent profile.” Professor Milton gestures to the rest of the class. “What feedback do you have for these two?”
They spend about ten minutes picking apart our articles before we move on to another pair.
I try to pay attention, but it’s as though I’ve been sucked into a black hole.
The real world bends and shifts around me while I’m kept apart, floating adrift, separate.
I can’t find my way back. Instead of my classmates, I hear Mabel’s laughter in my ear, high-pitched and electric as we hopped the fence onto school grounds at two in the morning.
I smell the dew on the grass as we hobbled back to my house, arm in arm, having canvassed the entire town under cover of night.
I feel the ice in her stare as the reporter held the microphone to my face.
I taste the shame on my tongue, as if somehow I betrayed her.
When class ends, I jump to my feet.
“Clara—”
I ignore him and race for the door. But as he oh-so-aptly pointed out, I’m five-three. He’s a giant. Short of making a run for it, there’s not much I can do to outpace him. I do, however, manage to maintain enough dignity to keep it from coming to that. About ten feet down the hall, he catches me.
“Clara, wait.”
He steps in front of me, forcing me to either plow into his chest or stop short. I freeze. “Move, Nox.”
“Tell me what I did.”
“You didn’t do anything. I need to get to my next class.”
“Why were you crying?”
“I wasn’t crying.”
“Sure.” He scoffs harshly. “You know, I don’t get you.”
“Then it’s a good thing you don’t have to.”
“You wrote about me too.”
“That was the assignment.”
“I know. I—” He breaks off with a frustrated growl. “God, you’re infuriating.”
“The feeling is mutual.”
I try to move around him. He presses his hand to the wall, barring my path.
I’ve half a mind to slip right under his arm and keep walking, pip-squeak that I am, but the new me doesn’t run away.
She faces things head-on. So I lift my gaze instead.
Nox towers over me, his presence taking up so much space I inhale a sharp breath just to find air.
Not an inch of us is touching, but I feel him all the same.
His body heat sinks into my skin, bringing a flush to my cheeks.
When my bag starts to slip off my shoulder, he catches it and resettles it over my collarbone.
I wait for him to drop his arm, but he doesn’t.
He keeps holding the strap, one moment turning to two as his gaze dips to the spot where the backs of his fingers graze the thin cotton of my shirt.
I wonder if he can feel the way my heart thuds beneath his hand.
He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing thickly as he traces the edge of my V-neck with his thumb, barely brushing skin.
He looks back up, his eyes a deep evergreen as he searches mine.
I’m not sure what he’s trying to find, so I don’t give him the chance.
Nox doesn’t seem like the type to do anything halfway.
If I apologize now, if I give him an olive branch, if I supply a piece of the puzzle, he won’t rest until he’s solved the whole damn thing.
You don’t become a gold medalist by accepting the bare minimum.
If I give him one secret, he’ll want them all.
And there’s no way in hell I’m ready for that.
“Just leave me alone,” I demand.
He snaps his arm back as if stung. “Gladly.”
We see each other only in passing the rest of the week.
On Saturday, he doesn’t say a word as I slink my way out of the pool.
That night, a flash of red in his window draws my eyes.
It’s a sundress. On a girl. A clog tightens at the back of my throat.
Before I have time to turn away, he fills the frame, his fingers wrapped around the string connected to his blinds.
Our gazes collide. It’s the first time we’ve made eye contact since the hallway.
He waits a beat, as if wondering what I’ll do.
But I don’t do anything. I just sit on my bed and keep staring like a fool.
The edges of his lips curve up. He waves goodbye as the blinds crash down, cutting me off.
I flinch back as though I’ve been slapped.
Hours later, the blinds are still down. I tell myself that has nothing to do with why I toss and turn all night, then wake up feeling like shit the next day.
The lie tastes acidic on my tongue.