Chapter 13 13
Julian’s POV
“I’m honored to be given this position.”
My voice carried easily across the hall, steady, controlled, cutting through the noise that had refused to settle even after my name was called. Faces stared back at me, confused, curious, some impressed, most still trying to make sense of what they had just seen.
“I know you’re all shocked,” I continued, letting my gaze sweep across them without lingering too long on anyone. “But you shouldn’t be. I am ready to lead to the best of my capabilities,”
A pause followed. Just enough to let it land.
“As you were.” I stepped back slightly, already done.
Everywhere was dead silent, you could hear a pin drop. Then the applause came.
It built quickly, spreading across the hall until it filled the space entirely, loud enough to erase the whispers from before. It was acceptance. I took the badge from the faculty member without hesitation, fastening it neatly in place. The weight of it didn’t feel unfamiliar. Titles never did. It was the reactions that usually made things complicated.
And right now. There was only one reaction I cared about.
I found her immediately. Kimberly stood a few rows back, exactly where I had expected her to be, but she wasn’t moving. Everyone else had started shifting, turning, reacting, but she stayed still, her eyes locked on me like she was seeing something she couldn’t unsee.
I held her gaze for half a second longer than necessary before looking away. Not because I wanted to, but because if I didn’t, I wouldn’t be able to focus on anything else.
That was already a problem. Last night hadn’t helped. If anything, it made everything worse.
I shouldn’t have let it happen. My jaw tightened slightly as the thought cut through.
If I marked her…I exhaled slowly, forcing my expression back into place as the assembly began to disperse. Students stood, voices rising again, conversations spilling out faster now that they had something new to feed on.
But I didn’t move immediately.
I watched her. Kimberly finally shifted, her body turning toward the exit like she needed distance from me, from what just happened, from whatever conclusion she had already drawn in her head.
That wasn’t going to happen.
I moved through the crowd before she could get too far, ignoring the way people stepped aside without thinking, the way their voices dipped slightly as I passed. None of that mattered right now.
She was almost at the doors when I reached her. My hand closed around her wrist, firm enough to stop her, and I pulled her slightly to the side before she could react loudly enough to draw attention.
She turned instantly, eyes flashing. “What?”
“Walk,” I said quietly.
She didn’t argue. That alone told me more than anything she could’ve said.
We moved out into the hallway, away from the noise, the doors closing behind us with a dull thud that cut off the chaos almost completely. The silence that followed was tense, thick with everything she hadn’t said yet.
I let go of her wrist. She stepped back immediately.
We just stared at each other for a while, I made sure to observe her clearly, noting the way her posture had shifted. She looked more guarded, well more than before.
“Why do you look shocked?” I asked, keeping my tone even. “Like you didn’t see me standing yesterday.”
Her expression didn’t change.
“You wanted to put on an act,” she said flatly.
“That’s what you think?”
“That’s what it looks like,” she replied, crossing her arms. “You sit in that chair every day, act like you can’t walk, and then suddenly, you win student body president and then all of a sudden you can walk now.” she gestured slightly, frustration slipping through/
I held her gaze. “It wasn’t an act.”
“That’s funny.”
“It is?”
“Because it felt like one,” she shot back. “Especially to someone who’s been standing right in front of you this whole time.”
I let the silence sit for a second before responding. “You’re not wrong.”
That caught her off guard.
Her brows pulled together slightly. “That’s it?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know,” she said, a short breath leaving her. “Something that actually explains why you lied.”
“I didn’t lie,” I corrected calmly.
“You don't think that people might also think I was in on it too,but I guess they love you now cause you miraculously started walking.”
“That’s not a lie.”
She stared at me like I’d just said something ridiculous. “You’re unbelievable.”
“I’ve been called worse.”
“I’m sure you have.”
Her gaze dropped for a fraction of a second before lifting again, sharper now. “You could’ve told me your plan, I don't like surprises.”
“I couldn’t.”
“You mean you wouldn’t.”
“That too.”
She let out a quiet, humorless laugh, shaking her head slightly. “At least you’re honest about that part.”
I watched her closely, reading the tension in her shoulders, the way she shifted her weight like she wasn’t sure whether to stay or leave.
She was still here.
“I still want us to continue,” I said.
Her eyes snapped back to mine. “Continue what?”
“Our arrangement.”
Her expression hardened slightly. “You mean the fake dating?”
“Yes.”
A beat passed.
“And why would I do that?” she asked, her tone not rising, not falling, just steady enough to make the question more dangerous than it sounded.
“Because nothing has changed,” I replied.
“That’s where you’re wrong.”
“It isn’t.”
“You stood up in front of the entire school,” she said, stepping closer now, her voice lower but sharper. “Everything has changed.”
“Not for us.”
She studied me for a second, like she was trying to figure out if I actually believed what I was saying.
I wasn't going to give up, she made me feel something I have never felt before and I needed to understand that. Whether she liked it or not.
“And what do I get out of it?” she asked finally.
“Because you don’t know what you’re dealing with,” I cut in, my tone quieter now, but firm enough to stop her from brushing it off.
That familiar tension flickered again. The same one from last night.
The same one that hadn’t gone away.
Her eyes narrowed slightly. “You’re doing that thing again.”
“What thing?”
“Talking like there’s something bigger going on and expecting me to just accept it without questioning it.”
I didn’t respond.
Not because I didn’t have an answer.
Because I wasn’t giving it.
She exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair before looking back at me. “You’re exhausting, you know that?”
“I’ve been told.”
“Fine,” she said.
The word landed without warning. I watched her closely. “Fine?”
“We continue,” she clarified, her tone controlled, but there was something underneath it, something deliberate. “But not on yo
ur terms.”
That was new.
“And what terms would those be?” I asked.
She held my gaze, steady now in a way she hadn’t been a few minutes ago. “I have rules.”