Her mind flicked through the fragments of memory she’d regained. Dorian had always treated her coldly, distantly. They hadn’t even kissed.

  Phoenix studied her carefully, as if scanning for lies. But Clarissa’s gaze didn’t flicker. No shame, no fear, no avoidance.

  Phoenix relaxed, a wicked smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “Good. That asshole doesn’t deserve to touch you.”

  Silently, she added in her head: If he had touched you and then dared to abandon you, I’d personally castrate him.

  From the angle Clarissa sat, she couldn’t see the flicker of something cold and violent behind Phoenix’s playful expression.

  But in the back seat, someone else had heard everything. Atticus.

  The earphones in his ears were dead silent. They hadn’t been playing anything for some time now.

  His face was turned toward the window, but the soft glow of passing headlights caught in his eyes. There was a depth in them now. Dark. Infinite. Like the ocean before a storm, impossible to read.

  And no one—not Phoenix, not Clarissa—No one could see the calculating, dangerous thoughts forming behind his beautiful, unreadable face.

  The next day, Atticus was clearly off his game during training. He missed several easy shots, uncharacteristically clumsy.

  Eventually, he dropped the ball in his hand and muttered, “I’m gonna go warm up.”

  A few of the players exchanged looks, eyebrows raised, then wandered over to Thaddeus.

  “Coach, what’s going on with Atticus today?”

  Thaddeus glanced across the court at the boy now jogging silently along the edge of the track. “Nothing,” he said casually. “He’s always like that.”

  Because of his smaller build, Atticus had to push himself harder to keep up with the rest of the team. It wasn’t unusual for him to tack on extra training after practice, grinding himself down in quiet determination.

  “That’s not it,” one of the players said, lowering his voice slightly. “Lately… it feels like something’s bothering him.”

  “Bothering him?” Thaddeus raised a brow, amused. “This kid wears the same blank face all day. Please. You just want an excuse to slack off.”

  He pointed toward the court. “Look at him. He’s still going. Work harder—there’s a game next week. First one to mess up’s buying dinner for the whole team!”

  The group groaned, expressions souring, and shuffled back toward practice.

  Once they were gone, Thaddeus called over one of the assistant trainers. “How long’s he been running?”

  “Started about half an hour ago. Hasn’t taken a break. That’s ten laps already.”

  Thaddeus’s brows furrowed, concern finally flickering across his face. He dropped what he was holding and headed over to the track.

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  The basketball court was connected to the school’s 400-meter track, and by now, his pace had slowed considerably, but he hadn’t stopped. His breath came in harsh, heavy pulls, his eyes down.

  Thaddeus jogged up beside him with ease. “Atticus, that’s enough. You’ve already done ten laps.”

  But Atticus didn’t stop. The boy didn’t even respond.

  Thaddeus frowned—and then reached out and grabbed his arm. “I said stop.”

  Atticus stiffened under his grip, glancing at him briefly. Then, without a word, he broke stride and walked toward the benches.

  Thaddeus followed, handing him a bottle of water.

  Atticus took it, unscrewed the cap with tense fingers, and drank deeply. His throat bobbed with each swallow, his chest still rising and falling from exertion.

  Thaddeus sat beside him, voice low and firm. “I get it. You want to push harder. But progress doesn’t happen in a day. You’ll break yourself.”

  Atticus didn’t respond. He only gripped the bottle tighter.

  Thaddeus opened his mouth to say something more, but Atticus was already on his feet.

  “I know,” he said flatly, walking off without another glance.

  ......

  “Clarissa, are you signing up for anything at the sports meet next week?”

  The voice broke through Clarissa’s focus as she stared down at the tiny cakes she was picking out for Atticus that evening.

  She blinked up to see William standing in front of her, holding a clipboard. “Wait—what? The sports meet is next week?”

  William passed her a form and pointed to a colorful poster tacked on the back. “They just finalized the categories. I highlighted a few of the easier events.”

  Clarissa scanned it quickly, eyes skimming across the options. “I’ll do the 100-meter dash and high jump.”

  Even though her current body wasn’t particularly strong, it was light and agile—surprisingly quick on its feet. Plus, Clarissa had always been good at high jump; she’d even won medals for it back in school.

  William nodded. “Fill it out.”

  Clarissa raised a brow when she saw the sheet was completely blank. “Wow, I’m the first?”

  “You’re not exactly known for being athletic,” he said with a smirk. “Figured I’d let you pick first.”

  Clarissa stared at him, heat rushing to her cheeks. It was true that her poor performance in PE was something of a campus legend, but hearing it laid out so bluntly? That stung.

  She quickly scrawled her name across the form and shoved it back at him.

  Right then, someone from the student council came running over to grab William. He gave her a brief nod and turned to go.

  In the student union, Xavier dropped a stack of paperwork onto William’s desk with an exaggerated sigh. “My dear president, do you know how much stuff you’ve been neglecting? Where have you even been lately? I’m drowning here. And why does the classroom smell so much better today?”

  The student council office was a favorite hangout spot—they could use their phones, keep the AC running, even snack during breaks. Naturally, no one minded hanging around there for “work.”

  William didn’t respond. He simply walked past Xavier, tossed a set of documents onto his chest, and said, “Go do the registrations.”

  Xavier glanced down at them—registration forms for the upcoming school sports meet. He rolled his eyes but didn’t argue, muttering something under his breath as he walked off toward the classroom to start collecting signups.

  He flipped through the forms absentmindedly until one name caught his eye.

  “Clarissa. 100 meters… high jump…”

  He looked up instinctively and spotted her across the room, head bowed as she scrolled through her phone.

  Clarissa was well-known across campus for her beauty—elegant, graceful, a little aloof. Xavier found himself staring a moment too long before someone bumped into him, snapping him out of it.

  He let out a wistful sigh. “God, even the air in this classroom smells amazing today…”

  After school, William’s bike gave up on him just a few blocks from campus.

  The chain snapped mid-pedal, and he came to a clunky stop. Frowning, he knelt down to check the damage. It was worse than he thought—the chain had broken clean off. This wasn’t something he could fix on the spot.

  “Need a hand?”

  He looked up at the sound of Clarissa’s voice—and froze momentarily.

  She was standing there in a light skirt, her long legs catching the soft glow of the afternoon sun. He quickly looked away and stood up, clearing his throat.“The chain’s broken.”

  Clarissa leaned in to check for herself. “Yikes. That’s not a quick fix.”

  William looked at her. “Can you repair it?”

  She gave him a teasing smile. “What do I look like, a mechanic?”

  His eyes flicked to her hands—small, pale, graceful fingers that clearly hadn’t handled much grease or wire.