Chapter 3 — Assigned Rivals

Knight

The classroom carried that familiar smell of dry erase markers and old textbooks, settling into the corners like it belonged there. I slouched in my chair, spinning a pen between my fingers, letting its rhythm match the steady tapping of my foot against the tile floor. Ms. Moreau’s voice droned on at the front of the room, words about conjugations and sentence structure floating around me like background noise. French class wasn’t a challenge—it was a chore, something to push through on the way to graduation.

I flicked a glance at the clock. Ten minutes left. The second hand crept forward like it had nowhere better to be. My leg bounced faster.

“Knight Thomas,” Ms. Moreau’s sharp voice sliced through my haze, cutting as clean as a slap to the back of the head.

The pen slipped from my fingers, clattering onto the desk. “Uh, yeah?”

She arched an eyebrow, barely hiding a smirk. “Since you’re so... enthusiastic today, I trust you’ll excel in your partner assignment for the semester.”

Partner assignment? Great. Just when I thought this class couldn’t get any worse. Group projects in French were their own brand of torture—half the class barely spoke English properly, let alone a foreign language.

I shifted in my seat, my stomach tightening as Ms. Moreau scanned her seating chart like she was savoring the moment. Whatever she was about to say, I already knew it wasn’t going to be good.

“Your partner will be...” Her eyes landed on me, the pause deliberate. “Shae Davis.”

The pen rolled off my desk and hit the floor.

No.

No way.

I didn’t need to look to feel it—the weight of her gaze pressing against the side of my face like a spotlight. Still, some part of me couldn’t help it. Slowly, like I was fighting against a riptide, I turned toward the back of the room.

And there she was.

Shae Davis.

Hazel eyes locked onto mine, wide at first, then narrowing into sharp, cutting points. Anger radiated off her like heat off asphalt, simmering and restrained but ready to boil over. Her wavy dark brown hair fell around her face, brushing her shoulders in a way that felt too familiar, too much like a memory I wasn’t ready to deal with.

The air between us felt charged, humming like the moments just before a storm. She wasn’t just staring at me—she was staring through me, stripping away layers I didn’t want exposed.

I wrenched my gaze away, my jaw clenching tight enough to ache. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered under my breath.

“Pardon?” Ms. Moreau’s tone sharpened, dragging me back to the front of the room.

“Nothing,” I said quickly, forcing my voice to stay flat.

“Good,” she said with a clipped smile. “Because this project is worth thirty percent of your grade, and I expect you and Ms. Davis to work together seamlessly. Comprenez-vous?”

I swallowed the knot in my throat and forced the words out. “Oui, madame.”

The rest of class crawled by, but it didn’t matter—I wasn’t hearing any of it. My thoughts circled like vultures, picking apart pieces of a past I’d spent years trying to bury. Shae Davis. Back in Dalton. Sitting just ten feet away, with the same damn silver locket around her neck.

The memory hit me before I could stop it—her laugh, bright and unguarded, echoing by the riverbank. The way sunlight had danced on the water and caught in her hair. My chest tightened, the weight of it pressing harder until I shoved the thought aside. That was a different life. A different me.

When the bell finally rang, I was out of my seat before Ms. Moreau finished talking, shoving my notebook into my bag and bolting for the door. I needed to get out. To breathe.

But I didn’t make it far.

“Knight.”

Her voice stopped me hard, like I’d run into a wall.

I turned slowly, scanning the hallway before my gaze landed on her. Shae stood in the doorway, arms crossed, shoulders squared, her entire posture daring me to make a move. Her hazel eyes burned with the kind of intensity that made me want to look away.

“Look,” she said, her voice clipped, the words sharp and to the point. “I don’t know what your problem is, but we’re stuck with this. Let’s just get it done and move on.”

I leaned back against the wall, forcing myself to look bored. Casual. “That’s funny. I don’t remember asking for your opinion.”

Her jaw tightened, a flicker of something crossing her face before she locked it down. “You don’t get it, do you? You can play the whole aloof, sarcastic thing all you want, but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re stuck with me.”

“Trust me, I noticed,” I shot back, the words coming out harsher than I intended.

Her eyes flashed, and she took a step closer, the silver locket catching the light. “You know what? You haven’t changed. Still the same arrogant jerk who thinks the world revolves around him.”

The words hit harder than they should’ve, but I didn’t let it show. I folded my arms across my chest, raising an eyebrow. “And you’re still the same know-it-all who can’t take a hint.”

Her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t back down. If anything, she stepped closer, the space between us charged and tight. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know enough,” I said, my voice low and sharp.

Something flickered in her eyes—a crack in the armor, but it was gone as quickly as it came. Her next words were quiet, but they landed like a blow. “You’re a coward, Knight.”

I froze.

The word hung in the air between us, heavy and unshakable. My chest tightened, the weight of it settling somewhere deep.

She didn’t wait for a response. Her gaze lingered for half a second longer, searching, before she turned on her heel and disappeared into the crowd.

I stood there, the hallway buzzing faintly around me, her words echoing in my head.

A coward.

---

By the time soccer practice rolled around, I was still off. The field was alive with movement and noise—cleats crunching against grass, Coach barking orders, teammates calling out plays—but it all felt muted, like it was happening somewhere far away.

Niko jogged up beside me as we stretched, his easy smile dimming when he caught my expression. “What’s up with you?” he asked, nudging me with his elbow.

“Nothing,” I muttered, not meeting his eyes.

“You sure? You look like you’re about to punch someone.”

“Just tired,” I said, shrugging.

Niko frowned but didn’t push. That was the thing about him—he always knew when to let it go.

Even so, I could feel his gaze on me as we jogged onto the field. I tried to focus, to lose myself in the rhythm of the game, but my mind kept drifting back to Shae. Her voice. Her anger. The way she’d stood there, daring me to prove her point.

The ball flew toward me, and I lunged for it, kicking harder than I needed to. It sailed wide, missing the goal entirely.

“Thomas!” Coach barked from the sidelines, his voice sharp. “What the hell was that?”

“Nothing,” I muttered, jogging back into place.

But it wasn’t nothing.

It was everything.

And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t know if I could keep it together.