Chapter 51 Moving-in
Chapter 51 Moving-in
The quad felt like a furnace, the heavy afternoon sun making the air shimmer.
Daphne moved fast, wired and irritable.
Michael matched her stride, a silent shadow, but closer now, less a detail of the background and more a fact of her immediate world.
“Fucking humid,” she muttered, pulling the glass dorm door open.
He stepped in after her, the cool lobby air a relief.
Upstairs, her dorm room was chaos, half-empty, smelling of stale coffee and anxiety.
Michael started packing a box of books without being asked, his movements sure and efficient.
The silence wasn’t awkward. It was charged, full of the morning’s confrontation with Mia.
He stopped, picking up a framed photo on her desk. A cheesy posed shot.
“Weird picture,” he said, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. “You look like you’re being held hostage by a photographer.”
A sharp, unexpected laugh ripped out of Daphne’s throat.
A real, honest sound she hadn’t made in days. It felt good. Raw.
“I was,” she said, snatching the frame and shoving it face-down into a box. “Put it with the other crap.”
He chuckled, a low, warm sound.
“Yes, ma’am.”
They were sealing the last box when Lila breezed in.
“Hey, moving day! Oh, wow, you guys look totally domestic already.”
Lila was all sunshine and zero awareness.
“Yeah, real cozy,” Daphne deadpanned. “Help Michael grab that one.”
They started down the hall with their final load.
That’s when the voice cut through the noise.
“Daphne. Michael. Wait.”
Mia.
Standing near the common area, looking fragile and practiced, perfect tear-tracks already drying on her cheeks.
Michael froze, shifting the boxes, that guard instinct kicking in.
Daphne felt the change in him, the subtle hardening of his entire posture.
“I need to say something,” Mia said, voice shaky.
Lila was immediately there. “Oh, Mia, what happened? Are you okay?”
“I just feel awful about this morning,” Mia said, turning those swollen eyes toward the group. “I was so out of line. I was jealous, okay? Who wouldn’t be? I mean, look at Michael. He’s…”
She trailed off, like the words were too hard to find.
“I made a total ass of myself. I’m so sorry, Daphne. I really regret it.”
It was good.
A solid B-plus performance.
The sincerity was dialed in just right.
Lila bought the whole thing. “Oh, Mia, that takes so much courage!” She wrapped her in a fierce hug. “I totally forgive you!”
Mia hugged Lila back.
But her eyes flickered over Lila’s shoulder, straight to Daphne.
A tiny flash of triumph.
Daphne stared back, face blank.
She didn’t move.
Mia’s apology didn’t deserve a response, not a real one anyway.
She kept walking.
She expected Michael to follow. He always followed.
She passed them, heading for the stairs.
Then she felt it.
The subtle shift in his movement behind her.
He paused.
Don’t you dare, she thought, a cold anger building in her gut.
Daphne stopped at the top of the stairs, turning slightly, waiting.
Mia pulled away from the hug, beaming at Michael.
He stood there for one heartbeat too long.
He wasn’t falling for the act. Not exactly.
But he was acknowledging the performance.
He saw the social cue and felt the need to respond.
He didn’t speak.
He didn’t drop the boxes.
He gave Mia a quick, almost imperceptible thumbs-up.
Nice try.
A tiny, stupid gesture.
A hairline crack in the wall between them.
Daphne pivoted, slamming her foot onto the first stair tread, taking the steps two at a time.
The heavy exit door slammed shut behind her, rattling the glass.
She reached the car in the shimmering heat, furious.
She could handle Mia’s bullshit. She was built for it.
What she couldn’t handle was the tiny sliver of warmth Michael had offered her rival.
Michael emerged a second later, boxes still in his arms, his face open and unapologetic.
He walked right to the trunk and loaded the boxes.
“What was that?” Daphne asked, her voice low and sharp, not a question, but an accusation.
He didn’t look up, just shut the trunk with a solid thump.
“What was what?”
“The thumbs-up, Michael. Don’t play dumb.”
He leaned against the car, wiping sweat from his forehead with his forearm.
He looked tired, but steady.
“The girl was trying. It was a decent apology. I wasn’t going to stand there like a mute asshole.”
“She was putting on a show for Lila, for you, not me obviously, you idiot!”
He shrugged, unconcerned.
“Maybe. Doesn’t matter. She apologized. The social contract was fulfilled.”
Daphne stepped closer, the space between them suddenly intimate, tight with frustration.
“The ‘social contract’ doesn’t apply to a manipulative bitch trying to steal my bodyguard, Michael!”
A slow grin spread across his face.
“Is that what I am now? Just your bodyguard?”
“Don’t push it,” she snapped.
He pushed off the car, closing the final inch between them.
He smelled like sweat and sunshine and something solid and masculine that cut through her anger.
“Listen, Daphne,” he said, his voice dropping, serious now. “Mia’s not the threat here. You know what your actual threats look like. That was a high school drama moment. I handle high school drama moments with a thumbs-up. Trust me. Nothing changed.”
He didn’t touch her.
But the proximity was a weight. A promise.
He was right. Mia was an annoyance, not a real threat to her safety, which was Michael’s actual job.
“Fine,” she huffed, turning to the passenger door. “Whatever. Just drive us to the damn apartment. I want to unpack before I lose my mind.”
He opened the driver’s side door.
“Yes, ma’am.”
He paused before getting in, his eyes meeting hers.
“We good?”
She looked away first.
“We’re moving in together, Michael. We better be.”
She got into the car, slamming the door.
The engine turned over with a rough cough.
Daphne stared out the windshield as they pulled away from the curb.
The hairline fracture was still there.
But beneath it, the tension between them, Michael and her felt stronger, more real than any of Mia’s games.
Mia had made her move.
Daphne glanced at Michael as he shifted gears.
She just had to make sure the man sitting next to her knew exactly which side he was on when the real shit hit the fan.