Chapter 43: Forty Three

The next afternoon, I ran into Mara just outside the student lounge. She was perched on one of the benches, legs crossed, a spiral bound notebook in her lap and a highlighter cap between her teeth. The second she spotted me, her eyes sharpened like a hawk catching a twitch of movement.

"Hey," she said, closing her notebook a little too slowly. "Heading in to work on your RA application?"

I nodded, trying to keep my expression neutral. "Yeah. Wanted to tighten up my proposal before the deadline."

Mara tilted her head thoughtfully. "Smart. Everyone wants that position, it’s a huge opportunity. Really competitive."

I could hear the weight in her voice, a quiet tension underneath the casual words. I nodded again, gripping the strap of my backpack a little tighter. "Definitely. I mean, it’d be an amazing chance to work more closely with the department."

She leaned back slightly, her smile spreading wide, but not quite reaching her eyes. "Especially with someone like Professor Ashwell overseeing the review process."

There was a beat of silence. Her gaze held mine.

My stomach tightened.

“Yeah,” I sighed, “He’s really strict with his process. He expects a lot.”

"You think you’ve got a good shot?" she asked lightly, flipping her notebook open again. The highlighter cap clicked against the page.

"I hope so," I said simply, honestly. "I’ve worked really hard on it."

Mara nodded slowly, drawing an invisible line along her page. "I bet you have. And I’m sure that other things help too."

I blinked. "What do you mean?"

She gave a small shrug, eyes still on her notebook. "Just that… some people have more access. You know. Extra insight. It’s not a level playing field for everyone."

There was no mistaking the implication.

I opened my mouth, then closed it.

She didn’t need to say it outright. She thought I was using Declan. Or he was using me. That I was trading in something personal for academic advantage.

I could feel my face flush, but I willed my voice to stay steady. "Good luck on your proposal, Mara."

She looked up and smiled again, just a little too sweetly. "You too."

I turned and walked away, heat crawling up my neck.

As I climbed the stairs to the library, I tried to shake off her words. I didn’t want them to matter. But they did. Every time I tried to reread my notes, the implication rang in my ears: that everything I’d done - the reading, the late nights, the drafts I’d poured over, could be overshadowed by a word she said to literally anyone. She must have already told her friends. There would already be whispers.

I spent the next few hours in the back corner of the library, revising my proposal. I refined my literature review, sharpened the objectives, and double checked my methodology. I knew this project. I was passionate about it. I had a voice in this field, and I wasn’t going to let it be silenced by gossip.

When the library announced its closing time over the intercom, I packed up slowly, still lingering on the final tweaks of my proposal. I walked out into the chilled evening air, grateful for the quiet. I was so hungry, too. I decided to grab a quick dinner by myself at Jersey Mike’s.

As luck would have it, I couldn’t have a moment of peace. Just outside, near the concrete steps leading down to the main quad, I saw Mara leaning against the railing.

Again.

She stepped forward as I passed. "Hey, Willow. Got a second?"

I paused, tense. "I’m tired, Mara."

She smiled, but it wasn’t kind. "This won’t take long. I’ve been thinking... about our earlier conversation. And I realized, you actually could help me."

My spine stiffened. "With what?"

"My proposal. You’re already so far ahead, you’ve probably got it all figured out. I could use a little guidance." She stepped closer. "Actually, I want you to write mine."

I blinked. Then I laughed. "Really, Mara. Geez.”

“I’m not joking,” her eyebrows were furrowed. “None of this is a joke, Willow. Hasn’t been since I saw what I saw at the mall.”

“What did you even see?” I was so annoyed and so angry. “Two people who bumped into each other? You’re being insane, Mara.”

Her eyes narrowed. "I’m not. Look, I’m not the one sneaking around with our professor. And, I’m your friend. The last thing I want to do is hurt you. But if the department did find out... it might cause trouble for both of you."

There it was. The threat, laid bare.

I stared at her. "You’re blackmailing me."

She tilted her head. "I’m giving you a chance to keep your little arrangement private. Just send me your draft and help me write something good. That’s all."

I opened my mouth to say something, but she continued, “Look, I’m sure Dr. Ashwell can set you up with more opportunities. So, let me have this one. And all three of us live happily ever after.”

I took a breath, anger bubbling in my chest. "Fuck off, Mara."

She blinked, as if surprised by the venom in my voice.

"I’m not scared of you," I added, though my heart was pounding. "And if you think throwing around threats is going to win you that position, you clearly don’t belong in it."

I turned on my heel and walked away without looking back. But inside, I was trembling.

Because I wasn’t just scared for my work anymore. I was scared for all the ways this could fall apart.

And scared of what Declan might have to do to protect me. What I might have to do to protect him.

Because one thing was certain, Mara wasn’t going to back down quietly.

“Oh, Willow,” Mara yelled from behind me. I turned around slowly to look at her. There was a yard between us. I could have heard her easily, but she chose to yell, “You should really be careful next time. Keeping secrets isn’t that hard, you know?”

I took a few purposeful steps towards her, getting all up in her face. I was so angry I could have punched her. God, I really wanted to. But I didn’t.

“You’re a stupid bitch for assuming things. Your mind is in the gutter if you think people can’t just bump into each other,” I snapped, “Go on, complain to the Dean. Or tell your friends. You know, its tacky to spread rumours without proof. We’re not in high school, Mara, geez. Grow the fuck up.”

“Oh,” She smiled, “We’re definitely not in high school. Or did you fuck your high school teachers for good grades, too?”

“What?” I was incredulous.

She shrugged. “Nothing. Just kidding. Have a nice night, Willow.”

She walked off before me, leaving a swarm of questions inside me. Did she know more than she was letting on?