Chapter 3 My Temper Vs. The Cold New Dean

Cheska

I spent the entire day hiding. I stayed tangled in my sheets, staring at the ceiling until my eyes burned. Every time I closed them, he was there. I could still feel the phantom heat of Damian's lips against mine, taste the dark, expensive scent of his breath, and feel the terrifying jolt of adrenaline when Kier called him Dad.

The realization was a heavy weight in my stomach. We lived only a few blocks apart. In a neighborhood this small, our paths were bound to collide, especially since I was dating his stepson. I wanted to disappear, to run until I forgot the way his hands felt on my waist, but there was nowhere to go.

I didn't sleep. By the time the sun started bleeding through the curtains, my head was throbbing. I considered skipping class, but my coach had texted me saying my spot on the varsity team was safe despite my failed subject. I had to show up. I had to be the girl everyone expected me to be.

I dragged myself out of bed, feeling like a hollow shell. I dressed quickly and slipped out of the house early, hoping the morning mist would shield me from anyone I knew.

Then, the sound of a horn sliced through the quiet street. A sleek red car pulled up beside me.

The window rolled down, and my heart stopped.

Damian.

A current of electricity surged under my skin, pinning me to the pavement. My hands began to shake, so I shoved them into my pockets. He leaned toward the passenger side, a small, knowing smirk playing on his lips as if he could smell the panic coming off me in waves.

"Good morning," he said. His voice was smooth, like expensive bourbon. He acted as if we hadn't been pressed against each other in a dark bar forty-eight hours ago. "Need a ride? I'm heading that way."

I couldn't find my voice. I knew I should say no, but the air between us felt thick and magnetic. I found myself nodding and climbing in before my brain could find a reason to stop me.

The interior of the car smelled like him-leather and something spicy. The silence was agonizing. Every second felt like a heartbeat thudding in my throat. After a few minutes, he broke the tension without taking his eyes off the road.

"Kier and I talked about you last night," he said casually. "He had a lot to say. You two are dating, right?"

A cold shiver raced down my spine. I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly dry. Had he told him? Was Kier waiting at school to scream at me?

"It's... it's more of a fling setup for now," I stammered, hating how small my voice sounded.

Damian just nodded. The silence returned, but this time it felt sharper. I forced myself to look at him, my pulse racing.

"Damian," I started, my voice trembling. "About that night. I didn't mean for it to happen. It was a dare. My friends... I didn't really have a choice."

He slowed the car at a red light and turned to me. His gaze was intense, dark, and far too observant. Slowly, his lips curved into a wicked grin.

"So... it isn't true that I'm a bad kisser?"

I felt the blood rush to my face. "What? I-no-I didn't-"

He let out a low, deep laugh that vibrated in my chest. "I'm kidding. Relax, Cheska. You look like you're about to jump out of the moving car. Don't worry. I have no plans of telling Kier what happened."

He turned back to the road, his profile sharp and devastatingly handsome. "It's better if we just forget it. Act like it never happened. Also, stop calling me 'Sir' or 'Po.' Damian is fine. I'm only twenty-eight. You're making me feel like an old man."

I froze. Twenty-eight?

Kier was twenty-four. There were only four years between them. My mind raced, trying to do the math, trying to figure out how he could possibly be Kier's stepfather. He was barely older than my boyfriend, yet he carried himself with a power that made Kier look like a child.

"Oh... okay," I whispered, my face still flaming. "Thank you, Damian."

I fumbled over his name, my tongue tripping. I reached up to rub the back of my neck, wishing the floor would open up.

He laughed again, a rich sound that seemed to pull the oxygen out of the car. "You're really bad at this, aren't you?" he teased, his eyes flickering to me with a spark of something dangerous. "But at least you're trying."

I force a smile, feeling the heavy knot in my chest loosen just a fraction. Breathing becomes a little easier. My mind is still a blur of images from the last few minutes. I keep seeing the way Damian's lips curled when he teased me and the way his voice vibrated in the small, expensive space of the car. It's hard to wrap my head around the fact that he's only twenty-eight. He has the kind of presence that makes him feel like he owns every room he walks into, a stark contrast to Kier's boyish energy.

A familiar face on the sidewalk snaps me out of my trance. It's Kai. She's leaning against a post, looking as chaotic and ready for trouble as ever. Kai is the kind of friend who would start a riot for me without asking why.

"Uhm, you can drop me here, Damian. I'll just walk with my friend," I say, my voice a little breathless as I point toward Kai.

"Are you sure? Your school is just a few blocks away," he asks. He slows the car, his hand shifting on the gear stick. I catch the way the muscles in his forearm flex under his rolled-up sleeves.

"Yeah, I'm sure. It's close enough. Thanks for the ride." I give him a quick, tight smile.

He nods, his dark eyes lingering on mine for a second too long before he pulls away. "Sure. Stay safe, Cheska."

I stand on the curb and watch the red car disappear around the corner. Kai is already hovering next to me, her eyes wide and a massive, devious smirk plastered on her face.

"Holy shit, Cheska. Who was that? He is gorgeous," she squeals, nudging me hard. "Please tell me you're hooking up with him while you're dating Kier. That man is a literal god."

I let out a long, exhausted breath and start walking toward the campus gates. "Kai, stop. It's a long story and I am not in the mood to tell it yet."

"Fine," she says, though I know she'll be digging for details within the hour. Her tone shifts, becoming a bit softer. "Anyway, what happened the other day? You looked like a ghost after Mr. Serrano's class. I was actually worried about you."

I groan at the mention of that name. Mr. Serrano. The man who single-handedly ruined my GPA. "Ugh, don't remind me. I can't stand him. Honestly, the only thing I learned in his class was how to submit an assignment at 11:59 p.m. without having a heart attack."

We both burst into a fit of laughter, the kind of loud, ugly laughing that makes people stare. I'm doubled over, finally feeling like myself again, when a cold, sharp voice cuts through the air behind us.

"Is that right, Ms. Vega?"

The laughter dies in my throat. My blood turns to ice. I turn around slowly, praying the earth will open up and swallow me whole.

God, no. It's Mr. Serrano.

Kai is biting her lip to keep from losing it, but I'm frozen. "G-good morning, Mr. Serrano," I stammer. My heart is hammering against my ribs. "We... we weren't talking about you."

He gives me a look that says he knows exactly how much I'm lying. A small, dangerous smile touches his lips. It isn't a friendly smile. It's the kind of smile a predator gives its prey.

"If all you learned from my class was how to beat a deadline," he says, his voice low and terrifyingly calm, "then you definitely deserve to be sitting in my front row again this year, Ms. Vega."

He doesn't wait for me to respond. He just turns and walks away, his back straight, looking perfectly composed while I'm left standing there looking like an idiot.

"Cheska..." Kai whispers, finally letting out a muffled giggle. "Talk about bad timing. You basically summoned the devil. Looks like you're going to have a fun year with Mr. Beast."

I roll my eyes and give her a shove, trying to ignore the way my pulse is still racing. "Shut up, Kai. He's probably going to give me a pop quiz just for breathing in his direction."

I head straight to the gym for cheer practice. I need to move. I need to sweat out the stress of the morning and forget about the two men currently occupying every corner of my brain. The gym is humid and smells like floor wax and effort.

Halfway through our routine, Coach blows the whistle. "Girls! Everyone over here. Since we only have the seniors today, I have something to ask."

We huddle around her, dripping with sweat and gasping for air. I wipe a bead of perspiration from my forehead, feeling the familiar burn in my muscles.

"As you all know, Cheska is back with us for another year," Coach says, glancing at me with a smile. "I want to put it to a vote. Do we keep her as captain, or do we want to pick someone new?"

Before I can even process the question, Stephanie's hand shoots up.

"Coach, you and Cheska are the reason we made it to nationals last year," Stephanie says firmly. "We want her to stay. There's no one else who can lead this team like she does."

The rest of the girls start cheering and clapping. The sound echoes off the high ceilings of the gym, filling me with a sudden, sharp burst of pride.

Coach motions for me to stand beside her. "Well, that's that. Since everyone is on board, Cheska will be your captain for the year."

The team erupts again. For the first time all day, the heavy weight in my chest lifts. I'm still the girl who can lead. I'm still the girl who wins. Even if my personal life is a complete mess, at least in this gym, I know exactly who I am.

Coach is still talking, but the air in the gym shifts. I feel it before I see it. It is that prickle on the back of my neck when someone powerful enters the room. I look toward the far end of the gym and spot a man standing by the doors.

He looks like an admin, but he moves like he owns the building. He is wearing a crisp suit that hugs a frame just as tall and broad as Damian's. He holds a clipboard in one hand, but his presence is what really commands attention. Every girl on the squad stops moving. We all turn, drawn in like moths to a flame.

I take a second look, and my breath hitches. He has jet black hair and eyes so blue they look like shards of ice. He is undeniably handsome, though his face is set in a harsh, bossy expression that makes my skin itch.

He starts walking toward us. The gym goes dead silent. I swallow hard, the sound loud in my own ears as he stops in front of our group.

"Who is your captain?" he asks.

His voice is cold. It cuts right through the humid air. We all trade looks, the silence stretching out for a few heartbeats. I take a breath, square my shoulders, and lift my hand.

"I am. I'm Cheska Vega, the captain," I say. I keep my chin up, refusing to let him see the way my stomach is doing flips.

"I see." His eyes rake over the team before landing back on me. The intensity of his gaze feels like a physical weight. "I want you to discipline your members, Captain. Being cheerleaders for this university doesn't give you the right to be messy. Every single one of you has detention. Do you understand?"

My hands start to shake, but my pride flares up before the fear can take hold. I've had a long morning, and I'm tired of men trying to put me in my place.

"And who exactly are you," I snap, my voice low and sharp with irritation, "to be telling us what to do?"

He stops. He leans in just an inch, bringing the scent of expensive cologne and authority with him. He looks straight into my eyes, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe.

"I am Oliver Rivera. The new Dean of this university," he says.

The blood drains from my face. I feel a literal chill wash over me, turning my sweat into ice.

"I... I'm sorry, Sir. I didn't know-"

I start to stumble over my words, my confidence vanishing. He doesn't even wait for me to finish. He just turns on his heel and walks away, his stride composed and indifferent. He leaves me standing there, mouth slightly open, feeling like a fool.

Coach rushes over to me, her face a mask of shock and worry. She's saying something, but her voice is just white noise. My head is spinning. I'm already on the bad side of the man who holds my entire academic future in his hands.

I stare at the doors where he disappeared. First Damian, then Mr. Serrano, and now Oliver Rivera. It seems the list of men ready to make my life a living hell is only getting longer.