Chapter 3 What Everyone Knows
Elias POV
The quad was quieter today than usual. Most students had retreated to the library or dorms, leaving the walkways almost empty except for the occasional late-afternoon stragglers. The leaves rustled in the breeze, the last gold and crimson clinging stubbornly to branches, and the campus was bathed in that soft light that made the red of my skirt look almost electric against the dull brick paths.
I walked slowly, deliberately, letting every step make a statement without saying a word. Boots scuffed softly, skirt swaying around my knees, oversized sweater falling casually from my shoulders. I wasn't here to perform, though the performance was inevitable. I was here to exist. And to remind anyone watching-especially him-that I could not be unseen.
Noah Carter was there.
He wasn't staring openly, of course. That would have been too easy. But he was there. Across the quad, adjusting his backpack, stretching one leg against the edge of the fountain wall. The tension in his posture was subtle but readable if you knew how to look. I knew.
I smiled lightly, letting my gaze meet his for the briefest second as I passed. It was a greeting. A warning. A challenge. And it landed exactly where it was meant to.
Even as he pretended not to notice, I could feel it-the ripple under his skin, the pull of something unacknowledged. Desire, curiosity, uncertainty. And I reveled in it.
It was not cruelty, not manipulation. It was visibility. Truth.
I reached the edge of the quad where Ivy sat perched on the low stone wall, sketchbook in hand, pencil moving across paper like it had a mind of its own. She glanced up, one eyebrow raised, smirk teasing the corner of her mouth.
"Morning," I said softly.
"Morning," she replied. "And... you're playing it bold today, aren't you?"
I shrugged. "As usual."
"You know he sees you, right?" she said, her eyes sharp. "And you know he sees you. Don't pretend it's anything else."
"I'm aware," I said, smiling faintly. "That's the point."
She shook her head, laughing quietly. "You are impossible. You do know that, right?"
I laughed with her, the sound soft and quiet, almost intimate. It wasn't meant to be heard by anyone else. And yet, it was. I could feel it. That was the power of being unapologetically yourself. People noticed. He noticed.
Noah moved then, subtly shifting from the fountain wall to the path near the quad's center. I caught his movement from the corner of my eye. He wasn't approaching. He wasn't looking directly. But he was there, moving closer, drawn in despite himself.
The rumors had been circulating for years. Since my first semester, whispers about the boy in skirts. Some derogatory, some admiring, some simply curious. I had grown used to it. I had learned how to move through the gossip, how to smile at the right moments, how to let my presence be its own statement.
And yet, there was always a certain thrill when the captain noticed. Not because I wanted him to, exactly, but because I knew that he couldn't escape the fact that I existed. That I was here. That I had been watching him too, silently, for years.
We had never spoken more than a few words in passing. A "hello" in class, a brief acknowledgment at the library, a nod across the quad. But each interaction was charged. Each glance carried weight. And today, it felt heavier than usual.
Ivy followed my gaze, rolling her eyes. "You're obsessed."
"I'm not obsessed," I said quickly, though the corner of my mouth tugged into a grin. "I'm strategic."
She laughed, shaking her head. "Right. Strategic. Always strategic."
I didn't argue. I didn't need to. She understood. She always understood.
As the afternoon stretched on, I moved closer to the fountain, letting the wind catch the edges of my skirt, letting the sunlight catch the gloss on my lips. I could feel him observing, could sense the subtle tightening of his jaw, the way his posture shifted almost imperceptibly. The moment was electric.
He wanted to look away. He couldn't.
And I wasn't going to let him.
Later, the campus grew busier as evening approached. Students returning from early classes, groups gathering for meetings or sports practice. The energy was louder, more chaotic. And yet, even in the crowd, we were alone. I caught his eyes across the quad again, and this time, I didn't move. I let the moment stretch, let it hang like a note that could not be ignored.
I knew what he was thinking. Or at least, I thought I did. Desire. Confusion. Guilt. Fear. That strange, familiar mix that made him hesitate, made him question, made him almost falter in the life he had carefully built.
I didn't need to speak. I didn't need to act. I simply existed in my truth: bold, visible, impossible to erase.
By the time practice began at the stadium, the golden boy was moving with precision and grace, issuing commands to teammates, stretching, jogging, bending into drills with effortless control. His gaze swept across the field, scanning the space, and I watched as his eyes flickered in my direction. He was trying to concentrate, trying to maintain the distance, but I knew. He knew.
And the knowledge of me-my presence, my visibility, my unabashed confidence-was a seed planted in the cracks of his control.
I lingered at the edge of the quad until darkness began to settle, until the lights in the stadium flicked on and the last students disappeared into dorms. The wind carried a chill, tugging at my sweater, rustling my hair, swirling the edge of my skirt. Boots off, sweater loose, the night soft around me. I had learned to use every detail, every element, every small gesture to my advantage. And tonight, it was working.
Even as he moved across the stadium field, commanding, correcting, leading, I could feel him thinking of me. Wondering. Hesitating. Distracted. And that distraction-so subtle, so minor, but so profoundly real-was the first fracture of the perfect image he had spent his life building.
I smiled to myself, letting the wind carry the edges of my confidence, letting the red of my skirt glow in the artificial light. Visibility was power. Desire was power. Presence was power. And Noah Carter would learn, slowly, inexorably, that he could not resist me forever.