Rows of students sat quickly at their desks, the scratch of pens and the occasional cough were the only sounds that cut through the charged silence. Some students glanced around nervously as their whispers were silenced earlier by stern warnings from the teachers.
But Grace wasn't thinking about the exam in front of her. Her pen hovered above the paper, her mind was no longer on ethics and philosophy, it was on Jax.
Across the hall, Jax slouched lowly in his chair. His head was tilted slightly, as if he couldn't be bothered by any of it. His black hoodie was pushed back, revealing the sharp lines of his jaw that were clenched hard. He hadn't even picked up his pen.
Jax hadn't looked at Grace once since he stormed past her that morning. Not when he came in late or when he sat down.
Grace forced herself to look down at her exam paper and she thought of the answers she had copied the previous night.
She had them hidden in her bag, folded neatly and ready to be used. No one would have noticed, she could ace this without breaking a sweat.
But she hadn't planned on Jax going toe to toe with Professor Callahan. She hadn't planned on the guilt clawing at her stomach that made her feel sick. What if his anger had something to do with her? What if Jax took the fall for her?
She chewed on her lip, feeling a faint sting where she bit too hard. Her hand shook as she gripped her pen. She could cheat and win. But at what cost?
Then slowly, she pushed the stolen answers deeper into her bag, almost like she was burying them and then she started to write. And when she did, the answers flowed. She knew that material. She had studied, so it would be no problem for her to answer everything even if she was not going to get everything correct.
The pressure wasn't from her intelligence, it was from her parents. Her family name. Their suffocating expectations. But she wasn't going to let that control her narrative. Not today.
Across the room, Jax's foot tapped out a restless rhythm. His jaw ached from how tightly he clenched it as his fingers finally wrapped around his pen and he scribbled something on his page, although his answers came slower than usual.
He wasn't even sure why he bothered anymore. But then, across the desks, he shifted his gaze briefly on Grace that was unintentional and it had to land on Grace.
Grace on the other hand looked focused and determined. Her brow creased as she wrote with quick sharp strokes. But she didn't look his way.
Then Jax felt something unusual twisting within him. He wasn't sure if it was anger or something more.
---
Later, the exams were over and Students flooded out of the exam hall in a noisy relief, their stress melting into chatter and laughter. But not Jax and even not Grace.
She stood near the door watching Jax.
Jax didn't look back. He shoved his hands into his pockets and walked right past her without a word. The chill of being ignored hit her hard, worse than his teasing and worse than his cocky grins. There was nothing that she felt hurt more than that.
"Jax..." she almost called after him, but she caught the word in her throat because he was already gone.
Grace sat on the stone bench under one of the massive oak trees as Amber and Maya were laughing nearby, their heads bent close together, but Grace wasn't listening.
She was watching Jax.
He was leaving campus, his black bike helmet in one hand and his backpack slung over one shoulder. Rowan and Theo jogged after him, trying to get him to slow down but he didn't. And that made Grace feel like she was unsettled and lonely.
Earlier that day, during the exams, they'd brushed past each other outside the restrooms. His arm grazed hers, their bare skins feeling like a spark of electricity and it made them stop.
They faced each other shortly and there were no words between them.
His gaze dropped to her lip for a half a second too long and her breath hitched. But then his expression dropped back into place.
He smirked coldly, "Don't choke in there, Monroe," he had said teasingly but it lacked any real heat.
And Grace obviously shot back, "Don't get disqualified, Reed."
Jax then walked away leaving Grace standing there, her fingers brushing the spot where he'd touched her arm.
---
Grace ran her hands over her skirt, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles. She hated this feeling, the ache, like she had lost a game she didn't know she was playing.
Amber's voice snapped her out of it, "Earth to Grace?"
She blinked then forced a smile, "Yeah. Sorry."
But internally, she wasn't okay. Because whatever game she and Jax were playing was kind of changing, which made her think, she wasn't sure who was winning anymore.
---
The low growl of Jax's black BMW motorbike roared through the dusky streets as he weaved between slower cars with practiced ease. The campus drama was behind him now, but not really. Not in his head. Not in the way he gripped the handles to the motorbike tightly the faster he rode.
His black helmet reflected the neon lights of the street signs as he slowed in front of a small liquor store as he parked the bike.
He kicked the stand down and stepped off like he owned the whole damn block.
Then his presence was made aware by the bell that was above the door. The liquor store was quiet. The cashier was a skinny guy who looked fresh out of college and he glanced up from his phone and froze.
Jax wasn't wearing anything particularly flashy, just his signature black jacket that he had changed to from his black hoodie at school, and his dark jeans and boots. But the casual danger in the way he moved and the cold dark eyes made him look like trouble.
And yet he had that rich bad boy polish, everything about him screamed expensive. From the watch on his wrist to the custom cut of his jacket. He wasn't there to mess around.
He strode to the back shelf, and grabbed a bottle of top-shelf whiskey and he made his way to the counter without breaking a stride.
The cashier barely managed to stammer out, "Uh...ID?"
Jax's gaze was dead calm, a look that was sharp and dismissive, made the guy's throat bob nervously.
"No need," Jax said smoothly, with a voice that sounded rich and dangerous.
The cashier just started scanning without any argument as his hands shook a little, "$59.95," he muttered.
Jax tossed a few crisp bills on the counter, the leather of his gloves creaking faintly as he did, "Keep the change."
He left without another word, the door hissing open when he walked out.
Once he was outside, the air felt cooler now. He stood there for a moment with the bottle in his hand. He stared out over the street, but his eyes weren't fully focused on anything and then his grip tightened on the neck of the bottle.
Without so much as a warning, he turned and hurled the whiskey at the back wall of the building. It shattered against the concrete with a violent crash, amber liquid spraying like blood, shards of glass exploding in every direction.
The sound was sharp and angry as it echoed down the alley.
He stood there, breathing hard as his chest rose and fell.
Then he shook it off, running his fingers through his messy dark hair, pulling the helmet back on over his head and he got back on his bike.
Whatever had happened at Strathmore today, looked very serious to the point that it affected him this badly.