Chapter 21 The Negotiation
Christian’s Point of View
Alan’s amber eyes widened at my offer, and then she flinched back, as though I had splashed her with ice-cold water in the face. However, her recovery was quick; she shook her head vehemently.
Is that amazement in her eyes? There is hardly anyone who can turn down such an offer. Moving in with me is just like coming to a five-star hotel, and she didn’t need to bring in anything.
Just herself is sufficient.
I tapped my feet against the floor, reeling myself back and forth, waiting for the squeal of excitement.
“No.” She answered instead, her voice was sharp and held no room for negotiation.
“Why not?” Curiously, I jolted out of my sitting posture, turning my body towards her. If her flustered reaction doesn’t mean excitement, what does it mean then?
Or was she shy? Playing hard to get?
I leaned back in.
“The offer won’t be up for too long.”
“I am not going to stay with you.” She said in a measured voice, it sounded like she had more to say to me.
“I know your secret.” I reminded her. “And I have kept quiet about it, you know I am willing to help you—”
“No, you’re blackmailing me.” She interrupted me sharply, and I snorted, placing a hand over my mouth, trying to hide just how bad her rejection affected me.
“And is there anything wrong with that?” In an attempt to act cool, I spread my arms above the couch, my fingers intentionally leaning against her shoulders, and she scooted away from me.
Creating more space between us with an annoyed or frustrated look of discomfort on her face.
The outright rejection seemed to mess with me, but I continued nevertheless—finally gaining control of my emotions.
“My father owns the school,” I started, just in case she forgot my role in all this. “A single report from me will ruin your life; you will become so popular, you’ll be on the news, trending on every social media platform,” I explained further, holding her gaze. “You’ll be known as the girl who brought shame and dishonor to her family—a fraud, a con-artist, and people will pry into your personal life. They would want to know that you, your family, and every single person close to you will be caught in the wildfire.”
She paused for a while, her eyes fell to the floor, and she caught the skin of her lips with her teeth, biting them hard enough to draw blood—I barely resisted the urge to stop her. “So, are you saying you want to report me already?” Her eyes flickered back to mine. “Since I refused you?”
“No,” I answered honestly, throwing my shoulders up. “I am just saying you have to shut me up.”
She clenched her fist against her thighs. “Move in with me.” I offered again, and this time it wasn’t a question.
“Don’t you think that would be more suspicious?” She raised an eyebrow at me. “A boy suddenly moving in with you, to share your bed? Don’t you think people have noticed me coming in here? For now, they think I am sucking up to you because you’re rich. Well, I don’t mind that, but what do you think they’ll say when I stop returning to my dorm and begin living fully with you?”
I sucked in a deep breath.
“People will begin to doubt your sexuality, and then they can take it up from there.”
“I’m out of their league; they can’t touch me.” I declared a little more confidently than intended. “My sexuality is none of their fucking business, I can sleep with whomever the fuck I want.”
She smirks.
“Guess who is just within their league, or even below?” She asked curiously. “They would bully me, and eventually find out that I am a girl, and then what? You’re going to be an accomplice. You knew, and you were harboring me in your room, isn’t that so?”
I drummed my fingers against the edge of the couch, my eyebrows furrowing together, as much as I would hate to agree with her, she is right.
“You won’t stay here every day.” I offered instead. “Twice in a week, that much is okay to not raise suspicion.”
And I am unwilling to go lower than that. She seemed to notice the absoluteness in my voice and just got up from the couch.
“I will go do your laundry.” She declared before walking towards the bedroom.
“Rowan, the ball is yours.” The opposing team leader yelled, and Alan, in confusion, ran towards the ball and struck it. She missed by probably an inch, and it bounced just at the sides of her shoes. “Fuck.” He cursed, earning my team another point.
Alan was bad at volleyball, or sports in general, but she seemed to have improved from the first game we played together—this time, she was more active, she was trying, and she struck the ball twice.
Even though she scored two points for the opponent, she accidentally spiked the ball into her team’s net.
Xavier spiked the ball from the other side of the net, and I dug, intentionally directing it at Alan. She was their weakness, so scoring a free point was easy; the ball bounced on her forehead before bouncing away, even though that wasn’t my intention, and that concluded the game.
The game ended with 25-10 points.
It was a woeful loss for Alan’s team; they couldn’t even complain this time. They were just disappointed but said nothing. They would probably figure out how to take her away from the team or train her instead.
In disappointment, she began to walk towards the chairs, wiping off the sweat that pooled on her forehead, when I noticed a reddish blotch on the grey shorts she was wearing.
My eyes narrowed at it.
Was that a period stain? It was quite obvious, and since her back was turned to us, if anyone looked at her in this moment, she would be found out.
My legs moved, hurriedly sprinting towards her. I couldn’t call her name, or else I would draw attention to her.
But before I could reach her, Xavier came from behind her, wrapping her lower waist with the jacket he was wearing, and he whispered something in her ears. Almost immediately, her hands clutched the jacket, and then he helped her out of the court.
Not once did they turn back as they left.
All this happened right in front of me, but for some reason, it felt as though I was invisible.
So… does this mean that Xavier already knows of her identity?