(Trish's POV)
Room 3-B smelled like expensive cologne and old chalk - too many egos, and not enough air. Following the chaos of the Greenland game, the administration had decided the best solution was to lock all their highest-performing "problems" in one place and call it progress. Senior capstone. One room. No escape.
Joseph sat in the back corner, his chair tipped slightly away from the rest of the world. Three weeks of detention hadn't softened him; it had refined him. His face was a mask of cold, quiet indifference, but it was the calm of something dangerous. He hadn't looked at me once since we stepped onto campus, the Silent Pact holding firm like an invisible wall between us.
Miss Forger snapped her ruler against her palm, the sound echoing off the high ceilings. "This is not a social club. Your senior capstone is a take-home project. Monday to Friday. Presentation this Friday. I've assigned partners based on academic contrast. These pairings are final."
A low, anxious murmur rippled through the room.
This was the hottest, most volatile class at Mthland High, and everyone knew that pairing these personalities was like mixing chemicals in a glass jar.
"Lara Chen and Marcus Hale. You're the first pairs."
Miss Forger didn't look up as she kept reading.
"Sarah Blake. David Monroe."
Anaya leaned back in her seat, a predatory smile already blooming on her face as she eyed the back of Joseph's head.
"Joseph Roland," Miss Forger continued, her voice devoid of emotion. "You'll be partnered with Anaya Sterling."
Anaya let out a soft, triumphant laugh and slid into the chair beside him before the teacher had even finished the sentence. Her hand brushed his arm with a familiarity that made my stomach churn. "Guess we're stuck together again, Joey."
Joseph didn't look at her. He didn't flinch. He simply opened his notebook, his voice a flat, dead calm. "British literature. Pick a text, Anaya. Don't waste my time."
Her smile thinned, her eyes flashing with a brief spark of irritation. "Always so romantic, aren't you?"
"And finally," Miss Forger said, her eyes lifting to mine, "Trish Carpenter. You're with Christian Vane."
Christian gave a quiet chuckle that was far too pleased. He dragged his desk with a deliberate, screeching halt until it bumped against mine, forcing me to shift. "Looks like fate's bored, Carpenter," he murmured, his British accent sounding like a dare.
"Use today to agree on a direction," Miss Forger added, oblivious to the nuclear tension in the back row. "The rest of the work you'll handle off campus."
Off campus.
The phrase landed hard and unwelcome.
Anaya leaned closer into Joseph's personal space, her voice loud enough to carry. "We could work at your place. Your mom's still stuck in late board meetings, right? Same as the old days. It'd be just like before."
Joseph's pen paused for a fraction of a second. "Library," he said, his tone final.
Christian tapped my notebook with his knuckle, drawing my attention back to the danger in front of me. "My house is empty after practice. Quiet. Efficient." His eyes flicked, deliberately and provocatively, to Joseph's rigid back. "Easier than fighting for table space at the library."
"We can start at school," I said quickly, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm. "Public places only, Christian."
Christian's smile didn't fade; it grew sharper. "For now."
Across the room, Joseph finally looked up. He didn't look at Anaya, who was still whispering in his ear. He looked at me. There was no anger in his expression; none of the fire I'd seen in the kitchen over the weekend. There was only calculation. He was memorizing the way Christian leaned toward me, cataloging every weakness in our defense.
Miss Forger clapped once, dismissive. "That's enough. You have your partners. Dismissed."
As the bell rang, Christian stood and blocked my path just long enough to matter, his shadow falling over my desk. "Five days, Trish," he murmured, his voice a seductive crawl. "Try not to disappear on me."
Joseph shoved his chair back with a harsh sound and walked out without a word, a storm cloud in a designer hoodie. Anaya followed him like a shadow, already talking about schedules and his house as if the matter were settled.
I stayed seated, my hands trembling as I packed my bag.
Christian leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper.
"Relax. We'll figure out where to work." He tilted his head, his eyes searching mine. "You look like someone guarding a secret, Trish. Since when did girls like you ever care about guys like him?"
I met his gaze, forcing my voice to remain steady. "I'm guarding my peace, Christian. That's none of your business."
He smiled like he didn't believe a word of it.
From Monday to Friday, we were paired off, unsupervised, unfinished, and already dangerously off-balance. I knew, with a certainty that made my throat tight, that wherever this project took us, it couldn't come anywhere near the house I shared with Joseph Roland.
Not without blowing the Silent Pact, because if the school thought we were dating, rumors would explode. And if anyone thought Joseph and I lived together, Mthland High would tear us apart.