I turned, frostier than Antarctica. “Excuse me?”
He gestured at the space between us. “No offense, but you look like the type to correct people’s grammar on purpose.”
“I do not!”
He raised a brow. “Your color-coded notes and designer clothes say otherwise.”
I slammed my notebook shut. “For your information, I’m a very laid-back person.”
He blinked slowly. “You rewrote your name three times.”
“I was finding the right pen pressure,” I argued.
He’d leaned back in his seat, grin infuriating. “This is going to be fun.”
We’d been rivals ever since. Competing for grades, sniping at each other, arguing over every group project.
He was talented and infuriating.
I was determined and, apparently, intimidating.
We were oil and fire.
And we never mixed.
But after my rant to Livvi and the way Ledger had looked at me—tired, sharp-edged, not his usual cocky self—I couldn’t quite shake the encounter. It lingered, like a splinter under my skin. And I hated that.
I’d run into him on my evening walk near campus, which was becoming a far-too-frequent hazard lately. Maybe I needed to switch routes. Or times. Or, ideally,entire states. Something with fewer tall, aggravating swimmers and fewer moments when my stomach did weird, concerning flips. Anything to stop accidentally crossing paths with the human storm cloud who managed to grate on my nerves without even trying.
That thought only solidified itself when, three days later, I found myself on thatsameevening walk—earbuds in, trying to decompress, pretending I wasn’t subconsciously scanning for a certain aggravating swimmer—when I cut across the lawn behind the Wilson Center.
The pool lights glowed through the long row of windows. The humid, chlorinated air seeped out each time the side door opened.
That’s when I saw them.
Ledger and Ridge.
Ridge had his hands on his hips. Ledger had his arms crossed, chin down, frustration radiating off him like heat from asphalt.
Their voices carried across the quiet outdoor walkway that wrapped around the building, low but clear enough that I stopped mid-stride before I even realized I had.
I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop.
Okay, maybe I was since I’d paused the music I had been listening to, but whatever.
And I might have stopped walking completely, slightly hiding close to the building behind a bush. I was chalking it up to not wanting to have a repeat encounter with Ledger again, not to caring about what they were talking about.
“—not your fault,” Ridge was saying.
Ledger paced, running both hands through his hair. “Doesn’t matter. I can’t afford the apartment without the housing stipend. And the extended lane access? Gone. How am I supposed to hit qualifying times if I can’t train like I need to?”
My breath caught. Not dramatically. Just a small, surprised inhale that tightened everything inside me.
Because this wasn’t the clipped version I’d overheard at Talon’s apartment, the casual mention of funding issues.
This was more.
Worse.
