Chapter 8

The freezing night air hit Vesper's face like a physical blow. She wrapped her arms around herself, desperate to get back to the safety of her dorm room.

"Vesper."

The low, raspy voice came from the shadows.

Vesper froze. She turned her head. Slade was leaning against the brick wall of the dining hall, half-hidden in the dark. The glowing cherry of a cigarette illuminated his sharp jawline as he exhaled a thick cloud of white smoke.

Vesper wanted to run, but her legs refused to move. She slowly walked toward him, stopping a few feet away.

Slade dropped the cigarette onto the concrete and crushed it beneath the heel of his boot. He looked up, his eyes locking onto hers.

"You like Julian," Slade said. It wasn't a question. It was a brutal statement of fact. "You look at him like a dying idiot looking at a cure."

The words hit Vesper like a physical punch to the gut. Her breath hitched. "I-I don't know what you're talking about."

"Stop lying," Slade snapped, taking a step toward her. "The stuttering. The spilled water. The way you practically had a seizure when his finger touched yours. It's pathetic."

Vesper's defensive walls completely shattered. Her shoulders slumped, and she squeezed her eyes shut. The humiliation was absolute.

"Please," Vesper whispered, her voice cracking. She opened her eyes, looking at him with raw desperation. "Please don't tell him. Don't tell anyone."

Slade frowned, the harshness leaving his face. "Why? If you like him so much, why act like a terrified mouse?"

Vesper let out a bitter, self-deprecating laugh. She gestured to her paint-stained flannel and her dusty boots. "Look at me, Slade. Look at him. He's the Student Body President. He wears cashmere. I smell like sawdust and cheap acrylics. We aren't in the same universe. If he knew, I'd just be a joke to him and his friends."

Slade stared at her. Hearing her tear herself down sent a hot spike of anger straight into his brain.

He closed the distance between them in one stride. He didn't touch her, but he took a step closer, blocking her path entirely. He loomed over her, his presence suffocating and absolute, his voice dropping to a low, intense murmur that demanded her full attention.

Vesper gasped, her eyes flying wide open as she looked up at him, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs at the sudden proximity.

"You are not a joke," Slade said, his voice a fierce, low growl. His dark eyes locked onto hers, refusing to let her look away. "You're ten times smarter than anyone at that table. You don't bow your head to anyone, you understand me?"

Vesper stopped breathing. The sheer intensity radiating from him was palpable, a heavy weight pressing down on her shoulders even without physical contact. The raw sincerity in his dark eyes was overwhelming, stripping away the biting autumn chill.

Slade suddenly realized what he was doing. He realized how close he was, how he had unconsciously leaned in so far that he could smell the faint scent of sawdust and vanilla clinging to her hair.

He jerked back as if he had been electrocuted. He took a massive step back, shoving his hands deep into his jacket pockets to hide the sudden, inexplicable urge to actually reach out and touch her.

He cleared his throat, instantly throwing up his walls of arrogance.

"I have a proposition," Slade said, his voice flat and controlled.

Vesper hugged herself, still feeling the ghost of his touch. "What kind of proposition?"

"I keep your secret," Slade said. "And I'll even help you. I live with the guy. I know his schedule. I can set you up."

Vesper's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "In exchange for what?"

"You finish the woodcarving," Slade said. "And you help me get the girl I'm making it for."

Vesper scoffed, the absurdity of the situation hitting her. "You need my help? You literally have girls screaming your name in the gym."

"This one is different," Slade muttered, looking away. "She hates my guts. She thinks I'm an arrogant prick. I need someone on the inside to tell me what she actually likes."

Vesper weighed her options. The thought of her secret being exposed made her physically sick. But the thought of having Slade-Julian's roommate-as a wingman? It was the opportunity of a lifetime.

She took a deep breath, the cold air burning her lungs.

She nodded once. "Fine. We have a deal."