The next morning, I knew exactly what I needed to do. Ryan's confession had become my leverage. It was undeniable evidence of the "distraction" Nic had warned me about—except now, the distraction was real, and it was demanding my attention. I had to find out if Nic's "professional commitment" could withstand a genuine romantic threat. I wasn't sure if it was the right thing to do; I didn't even understand where this feeling came from, but I wanted to see how he would react to the news. I kept telling myself that the Nic I had been noticing for weeks wasn't just a figment of my imagination, and if I didn't get the reaction I wanted from him, I would move on completely.
I quickly checked my schedule. The student board meeting was usually held late in the morning at the student union building and lasted until early afternoon. I knew Nic would be there, and fortunately, I had no classes at that time.
I found him exactly where I expected, just as the meeting appeared to be ending. He was heading down the stairs to the ground floor where I stood. His brow was furrowed in concentration, making him look completely untouchable. As he reached the bottom step, I approached him and cleared my throat.
He looked up, annoyance flashing in his eyes before quickly masking it with cool indifference. "Annabel. Why aren't you in class? I thought we agreed you'd maintain focus." He said this as he moved toward a table stand, and I followed.
"I am. I just don't have a class right now," I replied, leaning against the edge of the table stand, trying to project a casual confidence that I didn't truly feel. "But I needed your advice on something... personal."
He took off his satchel and set it down slowly, his white buttoned shirt ruffled at the act. He looked back at me, he put his hand forward on the table and clutched his palms together, he looked back at me, his gaze hardening. "And what would that be ?"
"This is directly related to a distraction," I countered, echoing his own words. "Remember Ryan? The guy you told me to avoid?"
Nic stiffened. "What about him?"
"He asked me out last night," I stated, watching his face intently. "He said he wants to be more than friends."
"What did you say??" Nic interrupted, his voice cold.
"I said yes."
I detected a subtle, dangerous shift in his eyes. The icy professional mask cracked, revealing a flicker of intense, cold rage. His knuckles tightened around his palm. His mouth moved, but no words came out.
"I told him I'd think about it, but I wanted to follow your advice first," I said, smiling.
"You told him you would think about it?" he finally spoke, his voice low and edged with disbelief. The tension in his palm eased.
"He's very kind, Nic. I'm lonely here. He's good company."
Nic abruptly unclenched his palm and placed it on the table, moving closer to me and towering over me.
"You will tell him no," he commanded, dropping the professional facade entirely. "Immediately. Annabel, he is a child playing at college. He is not equipped for the life you are meant to lead. He will pull you down. He is absolutely, definitively the wrong choice, and you will not compromise your future for a passing, childish crush."
"And what about you?" I challenged, my voice shaking slightly. "You don't think I should compromise my future for a childish crush, but you're constantly compromising your focus to police mine. Why?"
He didn't answer with logic; he answered with control.
"You need to speak to me, Annabel," he said, stepping closer and closing the space between us. His eyes weren't cold anymore; they were burning. "Not here." He scanned the area as people moved around the building. "Meet me tonight. 8:00 PM at Neon Diner. No more games, no more study talk. Just you and me. We will discuss exactly what you are going to do."
It wasn't a question; it was a possessive demand for my time, completely divorced from my father or my textbooks. It was the advance I had been waiting for. I realized getting over him would be impossible now.
The afternoon crawled by. I couldn't concentrate on my notes; my mind was a whirlwind of Nic's last intense words: "We will discuss exactly what you are going to do."
It wasn't an order to study; it was a jealous decree regarding my personal life. Nic wasn't just my father's puppet anymore; he was a dominant, unpredictable force wrestling with complex feelings. And I was determined to see it through.
I told James I had a late tutoring session to explain my absence. I carefully chose my outfit: a simple, fitted black dress—nothing too revealing, but definitely something that made me feel confident and mature. I put on brown leather boots and grabbed my brown coat. I needed to meet his intensity with my own.
I arrived at the Neon Diner precisely at 8:00 PM. It was quiet now, the after-class rush long gone, leaving only the soft drone of the espresso machine, the beep of ice cream machines, and a few scattered patrons.
Nic was already seated in a secluded booth in the back, nursing an iced Americano. He was dressed casually that night—dark jeans and a plain charcoal T-shirt—but he still looked impossibly sharp, his presence dominating the entire corner of the diner.
I took off my coat and slid into the seat opposite him. "Nicholas."
"Annabel," he returned, his voice dangerously level. He didn't ask what I wanted to drink; he simply watched me, his deep-set eyes tracing the line of my jaw.