Chapter 9

ARIA

A whole trilogy of disasters and I survived it without losing my soul completely. Barely.”

I grinned, raising my eyebrows. “Start with the cousin. Was it as catastrophic as you promised?”

Jess groaned dramatically. “Oh, catastrophic barely scratches it. First, her car broke down. Then she somehow managed to lock herself out of the house when I left to get some groceries, and our neighbors called the cops because she was screaming at a squirrel she thought stole her keys. And you won’t believe what happened next—” She leaned closer, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Her boyfriend? Dumped her over a group text while she was still mid-drama. She didn’t even notice for two hours. And Aria, she thought it was a prank! I nearly cried laughing.”

I laughed so hard I had to grab the nearest bench. “LMAO. Did you survive without being sucked into the vortex?”

“I did,” Jess said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Mostly because I fucking live with her. I was somewhat her confident lmao.”

I shook my head, smiling. “I’ll take your word for it. My life’s already dramatic enough without adding another tornado to the mix.”

Jess plopped herself onto the bench beside me, leaning back with her usual exaggerated sigh. “So, enough about me. You. Tell me. How’s the volleyball palava? Did Blackwell notice anything embarrassing yet, or are you winning the chaos game?”

I laughed softly, rolling my eyes. “You’ll love this tea first. Mom called the other night.”

Jess froze mid-laugh. “Oh no. Guilt must have consumed you. You never pick her calls or even check up.”

“I know, I know,” I said. “But I did…and you’ll never guess the bombshell she dropped.” I leaned forward. “Eliana is pregnant, again. And this time, it’s a completely different guy.”

Jess’s jaw dropped. “WHAT? Are you serious?”

“Completely,” I said. “She called Mom in tears, claiming he’s mature, responsible, the usual nonsense. And Mom—she’s torn between freaking out and trying not to explode. She accepted her in anyways and they’re both jolly.”

Jess shook her head, disbelief and amusement mixing on her face. “Oh my god. That girl. I swear, your family could write a soap opera.”

I grinned. “Exactly. And meanwhile, here I am, trying not to flunk my not-so perfect assistant position.”

Jess laughed, grabbing my arm. “Oh, I can’t wait for the stories. Just promise me you won’t make him pull his hair out in front of everyone.”

I smirked, letting the secret thrill of the thought settle in. “No promises.”

During P.E period, we made our way to the gym. Students milled about, warming up, stretching, joking, and occasionally glancing at the nets with anticipation. The energy was infectious, but my chest tightened in a familiar way, the kind that promised disaster and excitement in equal measure.

Jess stuck close, whispering as we passed clusters of gossiping students. “Did you hear about last night’s party? Rumor has it that someone spiked the punch and a whole dorm F residents had to evacuate. And then… oh! You’ll love this. Mason and Tori got into a screaming match over a missing dorm key. He ended up storming out and leaving her to explain to the RA why she was hiding under the couch. Classic.”

I laughed, almost choking on the air. “This campus really doesn’t disappoint. I was here the whole time and I didn’t even get to hear this.”

“You either survive or get eaten alive. And trust me, you’ve got the instincts of a survivor,” Jess said with a sly grin. “Speaking of instincts, you never really told me as you began with Eliana’s palava, how’s the whole ‘accidentally brushing the professor while you flail’ thing going?”

I blushed lightly, shaking my head. “Jess. I may have survived the tryouts without face-planting. Barely. But yes, his corrections… let’s just say, my balance is improving”

She groaned. “ Fair enough.”

By the time we reached the court, the teams were lined up. I signed into my water holding girl role quickly, the tension in my chest mixing with uneven anticipation. Jess gave me a reassuring nudge. “Alright, I’ll cheer, make sure you don’t completely destroy yourself, and watch every ridiculous thing unfold.”

I smirked. “Perfect. Just stay out of the way, and I’ll handle the disaster.”

The training began. Blackwell’s voice rang across the court, precise and even, but carrying a sharp undertone that made everyone pay attention.

“Eyes on the ball,” he said to the players, calm but impossible to ignore.

Jess cheered quietly from the sidelines, a grin plastered across her face. “Look at you! assistant of the day!” she whispered, waving her hand in mock applause.

“Screw you,” I mouthed. If lust didn’t push me, I’d be sitting beside her on the benches, probably sizing dicks until the period was over.

I wanted to play, and now here I was — serving those who were playing. Tch.

“Hey, Monroe! Toss a towel!” one of the girls called, voice sharp over the echoing bounce of volleyballs.

I grabbed one from the bench, half-distracted, half-irritated. The gym was loud, sneakers slapping against the floor. My head was starting to ache. I just wanted the period to end.

I turned to cross the court, towel in hand — and then it happened.

The crack of contact was too fast to process. A blur of white, a hollow thud, and then pain — hot and deep — exploded against my temple. My vision splintered and the towel slipped from my hand.

Someone screamed my name as the gym fell out of focus.

A rush of feet, voices — “what the hell—”, “who hit that?”, “is she—” — everything came at once, but muffled, like I was underwater.