Chapter 14 Misunderstood

Chapter 14 Misunderstood
"Come on, Mum—it's not what you think."

"Well, if it's not what I think, then what is it?"

We were like murder suspects being interrogated by the police. Both of us—or more accurately, just me... squirming under Mrs Carla's probing gaze.

"This fatso accidentally tripped and fell on me."

Mrs Carla narrowed her eyes, one eyebrow climbing slowly to make it very clear she wasn't buying a word of it.

"Then what were you doing in her room at three in the morning?"

Fair point—nobody would believe that. Who in their right mind would expect Chris to show up in my room at three in the morning?

"I wanted to ask about the homework. There was a part I missed and I needed to copy it down."

"That doesn't sound like you," Mrs Carla said flatly.

"Then what do you want me to say—that we actually having sex, like you think? Nothing I say is going to convince you, is it."

My temples throbbed. Suspiciously compromising as it looked, Mrs Carla could at least try to approach it from a more logical angle.

"That's right. He came to borrow a notebook—nothing more. And I happened to be recording a timelapse of my activities when it happened. Not that either of us saw it coming."

Mrs Carla paused, then looked between the two of us. The pressure was real—something creeping and persistent settling in my chest. It had been one thing after another—first the incident with Emma Grace at the WAG dinner, and now this.

I had probably checked off every item on the list of reasons to be fired today. Apparently.

"Alright. I'm only checking. You're still school age—I'm not forbidding a certain level of closeness between you. But I don't want it getting in the way of your reputations, as students and as people with careers ahead of you."

There was a brief pause—before Mrs Carla's index finger came up, pointing directly at Chris's face.

"And you, don't give the media another negative story to run with. What was that business with Shane? Don't take the bait. I don't want any more strange rumours coming out of this. Learn to be more careful with yourself."

"I'm sorry, Mrs Carla... it was my fault too, I—"

"Yes, I know. You were protecting each other—I understand that. But I need you both to be more measured in how you act going forward. Especially you, Rachel. You're the chaperone—every decision you make should come from a place of calm and careful thought. I hired you because I believed in what you could bring to this."

DEG.

This time I genuinely felt guilty. I had my reasons—but reasons weren't the same thing as justification, and what I'd done at the WAG dinner was no exception.

There was nothing wrong with being reprimanded—it was entirely fair. If anything, I was surprised it had taken this long.

"Mum, anyone would have reacted. He brought up the name of—"

"Chris. Did you forget our agreement?"

That stopped me cold. Agreement? Chris had nearly said his father's name—and the moment he got close, Mrs Carla had shut it down immediately. Were they hiding this on purpose?

There was no way of finding out tonight—but it was something.

"Right. It's still early—there's still time to get a decent amount of rest. Get some sleep, don't waste what's left of the night. And as always, I'd like Chris's full schedule on my desk by morning."

I nodded, taking in the instruction. Her footsteps steady and unhurried, Mrs Carla disappeared down the hall towards her bedroom. The two of us were left standing there, each lost in our own thoughts.

"Tsk—stop being so reckless, golden boy. Is it too much to ask that you not drag me into something new every time you decide to act up?"

Chris shot me a sharp look—then let out a short, mocking laugh. That expression cut clean through what was left of my patience.

"Good—sounds like I found the right person for the job. Get ready for tomorrow. Ciao."

I squinted, curling my upper lip and making absolutely no effort to hide how irritated I was.

But wait. What did he mean by tomorrow? Prepared for what, exactly? I seriously doubted he meant it as simply as it sounded. I wasn't that naive.



The next day, things carried on as usual between me and Chris. We left in the morning with everything looking perfectly normal. But as it turned out, something came up that I hadn't seen coming.

"What are you doing this for?!"

I brushed Chris's hand away and put some distance between us. Then I laughed it off as convincingly as I could, while keeping a close eye on Chris to make sure he didn't stir anything else up.

Yeah. Another problem.

There was something deeply suspicious about the hand-holding, the arm around the waist, the way we kept ending up too close together—it all looked far too much like something couples did.

We'd already been labelled as a couple—that much was done. But I was never going to get used to moments like that, no matter how many times it happened. Not that Chris was any less tired of it, I was sure.

Tsk. Of course. So this was what he'd meant last night.
And what made it even worse—why were reporters still following Chris all the way to school? This was his full week of classes before qualifying and race weekend. Couldn't they at least hold off until then?

"Woah—adorable!"

"They really nail that young couple at school dynamic."

"They're together everywhere they go. Not surprising, really—Rachel's gone from chaperone to girlfriend just like that. Inseparable, those two."

I caught bits and pieces of what the reporters were saying. As far as I could tell, it was neutral coverage—nothing that cornered me or pushed a negative angle, for once. I just hoped that once the next story came along, my face would stop appearing next to headlines designed to steer public opinion.

"Stop acting like we're everyone's couple goals—it's ridiculous," I said, pinching Chris's arm as hard as I could.

"Ouch! Can you just work with me here? This is good for our chemistry—and I wouldn't say no if a sponsor decided to pick us up after seeing this."

I narrowed my eyes. No! this wasn't the Chris De Luca I was used to. Something was going on, and I was going to make this insufferable kid tell me exactly what was rattling around in that head of his.

"Alright, brat. What exactly are you planning to do with this whole chemistry thing?"