Chapter 14 CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 14
KNOX
The dean’s office always smelled like burnt coffee and desperation.
I leaned against the polished desk, half-listening as he droned on about the upcoming charity gala—the “pride of the university,” the “representation of leadership.”
Translation: Knox, you’re doing everything again.
“Of course, sir,” I said smoothly, flashing the grin that always got me what I wanted.
He nodded, relieved, already passing me the file. “I knew I could count on you.”
Yeah, because I’m your trained show dog.
I walked out with the folder, tugging my jacket sleeve into place. My brain should’ve been on logistics—vendors, sponsors, the banner design. Instead, it drifted back to the girl from yesterday.
Yael.
Damn her.
That smug little smirk when she beat me at debate; the way she’d looked in that dress at the party; the way she’d stuffed fries in my mouth before storming off. My jaw tightened.
Why the hell was that hot?
I stopped walking, cursed under my breath, then shook my head with a dark laugh. “You’re losing it, Hale.”
Because every time I pictured her, my pulse kicked up. My body reacted before my brain could shut it down. Fantastic. Just what I needed—an academic rival who made me hard every time she looked angry.
Pathetic.
I flipped open the dean’s file, trying to focus, but an idea crept in—something petty, small, guaranteed to mess with her calm.
The gala needed volunteers. She owed me one.
So I typed out the text before common sense could interfere:
Hale: You’re needed at the Committee office. Dean’s orders.
Then hit send.
The satisfaction that rolled through me was almost criminal.
I pocketed my phone, smirking as I spotted her down the hall. Perfect timing. She stood near the library doors, phone in hand, glaring at the screen like she wanted to set it on fire.
God, she was adorable when she was angry.
I strolled over, taking my time. “Well, look who’s plotting murder before noon.”
She looked up sharply. “You.”
“Me,” I echoed, sliding an arm casually around her shoulders. “Miss me, princess?”
Her jaw clenched. “Take. It. Off.”
I leaned closer, lowering my voice. “You always say that, and yet you never mean it.”
She stepped out from under my arm like I was contagious. “Why are you here?”
“Committee summons. Dean’s orders.” I nodded toward her phone. “Didn’t you get the text?”
She held up the screen. “You sent it, didn’t you?”
I faked innocence. “Who, me?”
Her glare could melt steel. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Thank you.” I grinned, walking backward as she followed in reluctant irritation. “C’mon, let’s not keep our dear university waiting.”
“I have class.”
“Consider this extra credit.”
“Consider me uninterested.”
“Too late, princess. I already told the dean you were helping.”
Her mouth fell open. “You what?”
“Relax,” I said, pushing open the Committee room door for her. “You’ll thank me when you get your name printed on the gala brochure.”
“I’ll thank you when you spontaneously combust.”
“That’s harsh,” I teased, closing the door behind us.
She dropped her bag on the table, crossing her arms. “What do you want from me, Knox?”
The way she said my name—sharp, annoyed, almost breathless—did things to me. Dangerous things.
I cleared my throat, trying to look busy flipping through folders. “I want you to help with seating charts, sponsor lists, maybe charm a few donors if you’re feeling generous.”
“You’re serious.”
“As a heart attack.”
She groaned, pulling a chair roughly. “You dragged me here for paperwork?”
“You make it sound boring. Think of it as… diplomacy.”
She sat down, muttering, “Think of it as torture.”
I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped me. “You’re cute when you’re dramatic.”
She glared at me. “Do you ever stop talking?”
“Not when I’ve got an audience.”
“Then I’ll stop being one.” She reached for her bag, but I slid the folder across the table, blocking her.
“You’re already here. Might as well make yourself useful.”
Her nostrils flared. “You really enjoy pushing people, don’t you?”
“Just you,” I said without thinking.
Her eyes flicked up, something unreadable there before she looked away. “You’re exhausting.”
I leaned forward on the table. “And yet, you keep showing up.”
“That’s because you force me to.”
“Semantics.”
She gave me a tight smile. “One day, Knox, I’ll find out what scares you.”
I laughed softly. “Good luck with that, princess.”
We fell into silence—well, a tense sort of silence. The kind charged enough to spark. She started sorting papers, muttering curses under her breath every time a page slipped.
I watched her for a beat too long, then forced myself to look at my laptop.
“You’re staring,” she said flatly, not looking up.
“Just appreciating your work ethic.”
“Appreciate it somewhere else.”
“You’d miss me.”
She let out an incredulous scoff. “You actually believe that?”
“Every second.”
That earned me another death glare. I swore even her anger was magnetic.
She scribbled something down, then shoved the pen toward me. “Here. Sign this before I change my mind.”
I leaned closer, our fingers brushing as I took the pen.
Her breath caught—barely noticeable, but enough.
Yeah. She felt it too.
I signed, sliding the paper back with a small smile. “You’re a menace, you know that?”
“I learned from the best,” she shot back, standing.
I smirked, watching her grab her bag. “Leaving already?”
“Yes. Before you find new ways to annoy me.”
“Impossible,” I said, straightening up. “Annoying you is my favorite hobby.”
“Get a life, Hale.”
“Working on it. You free Friday night?”
She froze mid-step, turning slowly. “You’re asking me out?”
“Just wondering if my favorite enemy’s attending the gala meeting.”
Her lips twitched. “You’re impossible.”
“I’ve been told.”
She shook her head and pushed past me toward the door. “Good luck with your precious gala, Hale.”
“See you there, princess.”
Her hand froze on the doorknob fo
r half a second before she left without another word.
I let out a low laugh, leaning back against the table.
Annoying her never got old. Watching her walk away didn’t either.