The weeks roll by, and the routine of classes, volleyball, and living with Alexander starts to feel almost normal. Almost. We still get on each other’s nerves, of course, but there’s an unspoken truce between us now. We’ve both accepted that we’re stuck with each other, at least for the semester. Volleyball, however, remains a minefield of drama. Ever since Maya’s snide comments about Alexander being my roommate, I’ve been on edge around the team. It’s hard to enjoy practice when I know they’re all whispering behind my back, speculating about things they know nothing about. One afternoon after practice, as I’m heading to the locker room, Maya sidles up to me again. I grit my teeth, already bracing for whatever passive-aggressive comment she’s about to make. “So,” she says, her voice casual but with that same smug undertone, “how’s life with Prince Charming?” I glance at her, narrowing my eyes. “You mean Alexander?” Maya shrugs, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Yeah, him. Must be nice having someone like that as a roommate. I’m sure he makes things… interesting.” I resist the urge to snap back, taking a deep breath instead. “It’s fine. We barely talk.” “Oh, come on,” Maya says, her smile widening. “You don’t have to lie. We all know there’s more going on between you two. Why else would he be your roommate?” I stop walking, turning to face her fully. “What exactly are you trying to say?” Maya raises an eyebrow, her smile never faltering. “I’m just saying it’s convenient, isn’t it? Your parents have connections, and suddenly you’re living with one of the most eligible guys on campus. Coincidence? ” I feel my blood boiling, but before I can respond, another voice cuts in. “You know, Maya, not everything is about social climbing.” I turn to see Grace standing a few feet away, her arms crossed and a no-nonsense look on her face. Maya’s smile falters slightly, but she quickly recovers. “I wasn’t implying—” “Yes, you were,” Grace says, stepping forward. “And it’s getting old. Maybe you should focus on your own life instead of speculating about Lillian’s.” Maya opens her mouth to respond, but Grace cuts her off with a sharp glare. “Seriously, Maya. Drop it.” Maya huffs, rolling her eyes before turning on her heel and stalking off toward the locker room. I exhale, feeling a wave of relief wash over me. “Thanks,” I mutter, glancing at Grace. “No problem,” she says with a grin. “Someone needed to put her in her place.” As the locker room door swings shut behind Maya, I let out a long, frustrated sigh. It’s not just what she said that’s bothering me—it’s the fact that I know this won’t be the last time I’ll have to deal with rumors. The girls on the team have been talking ever since they found out Alexander and I were roommates, and no amount of denials seems to be enough to stop the whispers. Grace plops down next to me on the bench, pulling her hair out of its ponytail and shaking it loose. “Maya’s been waiting for an excuse to stir up drama. Don’t let her get under your skin.” I nod, though it’s easier said than done. “It’s just… annoying. I didn’t ask for any of this.” “I know,” Grace says, sympathy in her eyes. “But you’re stuck with it, at least for now.” I run my hands through my hair, frustration bubbling just below the surface. “It’s like people don’t see me anymore. They only see the Prescott name. Or they see Alexander and assume that because he’s in my life, there’s some kind of master plan behind it.” Grace laughs, leaning back against the wall. “I get it. The whole ‘elite’ life sucks sometimes. But hey, at least you’ve got me.” I smile despite myself. Grace has always been good at pulling me out of my head when I start spiraling, and today’s no exception. But the reality of what she’s saying weighs heavy on me. No matter how much I try to distance myself from my family’s wealth and influence, people always find a way to pull me back in. “You’re right,” I say, standing up and grabbing my bag. “Let’s get out of here.” We leave the locker room and head across campus toward the ==café==, the cool evening air brushing against my skin. The sun is setting, casting a golden glow over ==Riverton’s== ivy-covered buildings. It’s beautiful, in a way that sometimes makes me forget about the pressures that come with attending such an elite school. As we walk, Grace shifts the conversation to lighter topics—her architecture project, the upcoming volleyball game, and whether or not we should attempt a spontaneous road trip once finals are over. It helps, talking about something other than the constant drama surrounding Alexander and me. But when we reach the ==café==, my mind drifts back to him. No matter how hard I try to distract myself, he’s always there in the background, like an irritating buzz I can’t shake. “Okay,” Grace says, snapping her fingers in front of my face. “You’ve been staring at that menu board for a solid minute, and I know you’re not actually reading it. What’s going on?” I blink, snapping out of my daze. “It’s nothing.” Grace gives me a look that tells me she’s not buying it. “Lillian, come on. I know you better than that. Is this about Alexander?” I groan, rubbing my temples. “I don’t know. Maybe. It’s just… complicated.” Grace raises an eyebrow as we order our drinks and find a table by the window. “Complicated how? Because last time I checked, he was still just your annoying roommate.” I sigh, swirling my coffee around in its cup. “He is. But it’s more than that. I feel like I’m constantly trying to figure him out, and it’s exhausting. One minute he’s infuriating, and the next, he’s… I don’t know. Interesting?” Grace grins, leaning forward. “Interesting? Lillian Prescott, are you saying you’re _interested_ in Alexander Hawthorne?” “No!” I say quickly, a little too quickly. “I mean, I’m interested in why he’s like this. He’s not what I expected. And that’s confusing.” Grace laughs, shaking her head. “I get it. Alexander has that whole ‘I’m mysterious and complicated’ thing going on, and it’s probably driving you nuts because you can’t just ignore him. But if I know you—and I do—you’re not going to let this go until you figure him out.” I groan again, slumping in my seat. “I don’t want to figure him out. I just want to survive the semester without losing my mind.” Grace shrugs, taking a sip of her iced latte. “Well, good luck with that, because it sounds like Alexander’s already halfway in your head.” I roll my eyes, though I know she’s not entirely wrong. As much as I hate to admit it, Alexander has found a way to creep into my thoughts more than I’d like. But that doesn’t mean I have to do anything about it. I can keep things strictly surface-level, right? Later that night, when I return to the dorm, Alexander is already there, sitting on his bed with his back against the headboard, casually flipping through a book. The room feels smaller when he’s in it, like there’s not enough air for the both of us. I drop my bag by the door and head over to my desk, trying to pretend that his presence doesn’t bother me as much as it does. “Rough day?” he asks, his voice breaking the silence. I glance over at him, and for a moment, I consider lying, brushing it off like I always do. But something about the way he’s looking at me—calm, almost neutral—makes me pause. “Yeah,” I admit, sitting down at my desk. “Volleyball drama.” He raises an eyebrow. “Drama on the team?” “Yep,” I say, not offering any more than that. Alexander doesn’t push, but I can feel him watching me. After a moment, he sets his book down and leans forward slightly, resting his arms on his knees. “Want to talk about it?” I blink, surprised by the offer. This is new territory for us—actual conversation. Normally, we just trade sarcastic remarks and try to stay out of each other’s way. I hesitate for a moment, but then I sigh, deciding to be honest. “Maya, one of the girls on the team, has been spreading rumors,” I say, leaning back in my chair. “She thinks no one could get that lucky.” Alexander smirks at that, shaking his head. “Lucky, huh?” I groan. “It’s not funny. She’s making it sound like I snap my fingers and get anything handed to me. And now everyone’s whispering about how I’m some kind of spoiled rich girl who gets what she wants.” Alexander’s smirk fades slightly, and for a moment, he looks thoughtful. “People love to make assumptions when they don’t know the full story.” I raise an eyebrow, curious. “And what do you think the full story is?” He shrugs, his gaze steady. “I think you’re dealing with the same crap I’ve dealt with my whole life. People see the name, and the money, and think they know you.” I’m taken aback by his words, by the sincerity in his voice. It’s rare for Alexander to drop the cocky facade, but in this moment, he seems… real. “Yeah,” I say quietly. “It sucks.” Alexander nods, leaning back against his headboard again. “It does.” For a moment, we sit in silence, and I feel something shift between us. It’s strange—this quiet understanding that we share, even though we come from different families, different worlds. It’s like we both know what it’s like to be seen as something we’re not. I glance over at him, studying his profile. He’s still infuriating, still arrogant, but there’s more to him than I initially thought. And that realization is unsettling. “So,” I say, breaking the silence. “Are you always this introspective, or is this just a rare occasion?” Alexander chuckles, the tension lifting slightly. “Don’t get used to it, Prescott. I’m still the same guy who drives you crazy.” I roll my eyes, but I can’t help the small smile that tugs at my lips. “Good to know.” The following week is a whirlwind of classes, volleyball, and trying to avoid Maya’s drama. She’s still giving me dirty looks during practice, but I do my best to ignore her, focusing instead on my game and my studies. But even with all the distractions, I can’t shake the growing awareness of Alexander. We’ve settled into a strange rhythm in the dorm. We don’t talk much, but when we do, we have a different energy. It’s not as hostile as it was before. Maybe it’s because we’ve both realized that we’re dealing with the same pressures and the same expectations. Or perhaps it’s because I’m starting to see him in a different light. I wouldn’t say I like that thought, but it’s true. One afternoon, after a long day of classes, I return to the dorm to find Alexander sprawled out on his bed, headphones in, reading something on his tablet. He doesn’t notice me at first, so I take a moment to observe him. He looks so… relaxed. Like he’s not carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, even though I know he is. I shake my head, feeling a mix of frustration and curiosity. How does he do it? How does he stay so calm when everything around us is so chaotic? Suddenly, Alexander glances up, catching me staring. He pulls out one of his earbuds, raising an eyebrow “Something on your mind, Prescott?” I blink, snapping out of my thoughts. “No. Just… tired.” He smirks, setting his tablet aside. “You look like you’ve got a lot on your mind.” I shrug, sitting down at my desk. “Maybe I do.” “Well,” he says, leaning back on his pillows, “if you ever want to talk about it, you know where to find me.” I glance at him, surprised by the offer. It’s rare for Alexander to offer anything that resembles sincerity, but lately, he’s been surprising me more and more. “Thanks,” I say quietly, unsure what else to say. And just like that, we fall back into the easy silence that’s become our new normal. It’s strange, but it’s comforting in a way.