Are you ready?

Don't be too scared, the next new chapters are a lot worse.

ㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡ

I lie in bed, wide awake.

It's hard to hide that you're thinking about the person who's less than three metres away from you. I try to slow my breathing down but everything sounds like a torrential storm in the dead of the room.

I can tell that Slater is awake too. He constantly shuffles in his cover, trying to find a suitable position but to no avail.

Suddenly, and thankfully, he releases a deep sigh.

"Quorra, are you awake?" he asks in a low voice.

I turn on my side to face his side of the room, searching for his eyes in the darkness, "Yeah," I reply quietly.

Even though I can't see him properly (dammit, where's night vision when you need it?), the uneasy feeling in my stomach tells me that he's watching me.

"Why are you still up?" I question, pulling my duvet up higher and snuggling into its irresistible warmth.

He chuckles, the sound encouraging a shiver to run down my back, "I could ask you the same."

For a while, we soak in the silence, disturbed only by the sound of our breathing and the pounding of our hearts in our chests. I prefer this atmosphere around us; it's somehow more vulnerable. It's dark and quiet and we're ready to fall into the depths of a deep sleep where we leave our bodies and travel to dreamland.

"But to answer your question," he says, voice grainy with the prospect of sleep, "tomorrow I'm taking a day off to visit my parents. They've been... struggling with Addilyn's death recently, ever since her anniversary a while ago. I'm not close with them, for reasons that you understand now, but family is family and they need me right now."

I can't help the bittersweet smile on my face. He clearly loves them even though they've been nothing but demanding, playing him like a puppet as if his life is simply a set.

"You're sweet," I compliment, "Good luck with it."

I can imagine him nodding in gratitude as he murmurs out a distracted, "Thanks. Why are you up so late? It's..." he pauses before the tiny glow of his bedside alarm clock illuminates a radius around itself in a red light, "2:51am."

Exhaling a sigh, I fall backwards onto my back, splaying out like a starfish in resignation, "I guess I can't lie since you told me the truth."

I know he's watching me knowingly from his bed, and his intense gaze amplifies the thumping of my heart in my chest.

"I keep thinking about what you said earlier in the diner."

My words eat away at the silence and sit in bloated. satisfied lump in the middle of the room.

After an age, he agrees with a, "Me too."

A owl hoots outside, forming a melody with the chirping of the crickets and the buzz of the night. I close my eyes and hug my pillow closer, willing sleep to arrive.

"And I'm sorry for my previous blunt attitude towards the matter, Quorra," he apologises.

I smile and shake my head to myself, even though I know he doesn't see it.

"It's alright."

"No," he denies, "It's not. I want you to understand that I said those things, and still stand by those things, because of how Harrow University's system works. But that isn't a reflection of what I really want."

I'm starstruck.

Two confessions in one day? I can't take this.

So he does want us to be together.

After recollecting myself, I respond with a shaky, "Okay."

"Good," he whispers back.

ㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡ

I lean back in my seat and sigh dramatically.

Flitting my eyes up to the clock, I silently beg time to hurry its ass up and get moving. I've been stuck in this lecture with a substitute professor for almost an hour now, but there is still another left to go. Every other student's expression is a mirror image of mine.

The professor isn't even teaching, he is just sitting at Slater's desk and glancing down at his phone. Granted, he is only here for 'supervision', but he won't even let us utter a whisper without threatening our place at this university.

As he told me, Slater left in the early morning today to visit his family. I was only stirred awake for a moment but that was all I needed to recognise the ambivalence in his eyes. I can only imagine where he is now. Still travelling? Sitting down at a table, surrounded by his cold family in stock silence? ... Crying?

Hannah inconspicuously taps my waist and slides a piece of paper onto my desk.

I look down at it and quietly unfold it, seeing her immaculate handwriting.

You-know-who has been staring in your direction for the past fifteen minutes.

My lips part at the message. I scrunch up the paper in my hand, seething under my breath in a confusing mix of anger and fright. With how Grant left things last time we parted ways, he's not on the best of terms with me and probably wants my head on a chopping board.

I look over at Hannah and she nods, as if confirming the person.

I still haven't told her about Grant feeling me up that one time, and being the polite and understanding friend she is, she never asks. I know that she has no idea why I'm so wary of him, and all she has to go off of is that occasion where he lied and used her as an excuse to get to me.

He is so much worse than that, I want to say.

Instead, I face forward and try to ignore the gaze that I can now explicitly feel in the back of my head.

The uneasy feeling lingers with me for the rest of the lecture. Like everyone else in the room, bar Hannah (who tirelessly scrawls away in perfect font in her notebook), I remain stark still, facing the front.

Work has no place in my mind right now, and even lifting a pencil feels like hard labour with the penetrating glare of the incessant boy behind me. My heart hammers in my chest, something I am used to in the presence of Slater, but this feels different.

A scary different.

ㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡ

Finally, the session ends. The unnamed substitute teacher at the front doesn't move an inch or speak a syllable as everyone unites in mutual boredom and rushes for the door ad if its the only escape from hell.

I scramble to stuff my things into my bag before Hannah and I walk together to the door at the back of the room.

The uncomfortable feeling still remains as we ascend the stairs in the middle of the lecture hall to get to the exit, which is in line with the elevated back seats. My gaze can't help but look up at where he normally sits, but he isn't there.

I exhale in thankfulness as we cross the threshold of the doorframe.

"You want to head-"

Hannah is cut off by the shattering of my short-lived relief.

"Hey, Quo."

I freeze. My blood runs cold as I reluctantly look up to the emotionless eyes of Grant Lincoln.

Hannah crosses her arms over her chest as the rest of the students file out and the door closes behind us.

"What do you want, Grant?" she replies for me, and I mentally thank her for it as I lose the ability to speak.

A smirk creeps onto his lips as he flickers his eyes to her for a second before looking away again, as if she is unimportant, "I wasn't aware of your companionship with Quo, Hannah."

She immediately snorts in disbelief, and I'm introduced to the protective side of Hannah who cares enough about her friends to put herself in the middle of the crossfire.

"I know you know, liar. Are you going to act like you don't stalk Quorra wherever she goes and stare at her in class like an unblinking doll?"

Grant and I alike are both surprised, but he hides it better than I do.

"Listen here, you-"

I cut off Grant quickly, "Don't bother. Han, don't you head back to my dorm and I'll meet you there?"

Digging around in my disorganised pockets, I fumble for my key card and hand it to her. The whole time, she gapes at me, not even attempting to hide her shock.

"Quorra, I'm not leaving you with... him," she argues, spitting out the pronoun as if it's bitter on her tongue.

He simply grins at her maliciously, thinking he's won the battle. The sickening sensation in my stomach worsens tenfold, but I still relentlessly shake my head, "You don't want to be involved in this, Han. I'll only be two seconds, promise."

She looks at me, sceptical, as if knowing I'm going to break that promise in two.

"Quorra, I said I'm not leav-"

"Hannah, please."

The fire remains in her eyes as she drags her hateful glare to Grant and uncharacteristically bites out her next sentence, "Fine. See you in a bit, Quorra."

She snatches the card from between my fingers and walks off, loose skirt dancing in the gust of air behind her.

Maintaining as blank a face as I can, I fold my arms over my chest and look my worst nemesis and greatest fear dead in the eye.

"What do you want?" I ask, though my monotony makes it sound like a statement.

He smirks, glad that he's under my skin, "Just wanted to greet a friend. And while we're at it, you should drop by my room later."

Disgust fills me to the brim and I make sure every drop of it shows on my face, "Funny how that sounded like a statement, not a question. Have you forgotten that you walked out on me that day? I have done nothing but give you chances, and you want another? I'm done with you and you are not forgiven. Goodbye forever, Grant."

I turn on my heel, ready to march off and leave him in the dust, but before I can even think about placing my foot down, a vice clamps around my wrist.

"Ow," I flinch and try to pull back my arm, but Grant only yanks it harder and pulls me towards him like a toy.

I crash into his chest, heart screaming as he grins down at me, nothing but ill intention painted manifestly on his features. Every attempt of mine to pull away from him and compress the sick feeling rising into my throat fails. Lightheadedness flourishes in my temples.

"Listen here, little bitch. You will stop by my room later, or Hartley is as good as fired. Got it?" he snaps, short-tempered.

I look up at him, a mix of abhorrence and shock residing on my face, "You wouldn't dare."

"Try me."

If it wasn't for his goddamn father becoming Slater's boss, I wouldn't even have to worry about this. If that never happened, Grant wouldn't have all this confidence. He's a coward through and through.

My wrist starts to lose feeling. I look down, watching the unnatural colour sprout from it as he applies more pressure, all but cutting off my blood supply.

I lock my jaw and fist up my hands, my nails digging crescents into my palm as I spit out my answer, "Fine. Fuck you, Grant."

He finally releases me, laughing as he walks away, "Oh, you will."

My blood switches from boiling hot to tundra cold.

He wasn't going to-

No.

ㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡ

I return to Hannah sitting restlessly on the bed.

She smiles as soon as she sees me, but it's more glad than happy.

"What happened, Quorra?" she asks, worry threading its way through her words.

Holding my wrist in my hand, I swallow. The anxiety on my tongue travels down my throat and causes tumult in my chest.

I don't know what to think anymore.

But if there's one thing I know for sure, it's that I'm not risking Slater's job over some pathetic feud between Grant and I.

I look up and meet her eye with a weak smile.

"Nothing."