Broken Rivalry : New-Adult Angsty College Romance (Silverbrook University Book 1)
Broken Rivalry : Chapter 6

Nessa: Want to grab pizza?

Me: I wish I could, but not tonight. Eva needs me at the library for a project, and then I have a shift.

A pang of longing tugs at my chest.

Nessa: Fine, I’ll stuff myself alone.

A light chuckle escapes me, my fingers lingering over the screen for a moment before I slide my phone back into my bag. It has been a week since I last saw Ethan. I wonder if he has genuinely let me go this time. I granted him victory; it is all he ever wanted.

My steps guide me effortlessly to Eva’s usual spot in the library, a secluded table that has become our unofficial meeting point. A creature of habit, she always chooses a table near the back, tucked under a small alcove, transforming a public space into our private study ground.

I sit down and turn the book open on the table toward me. The Canterbury Tales—Lord, I can’t imagine picking this subject willingly. I wait a few more minutes and frown. It’s not like Eva to leave her things unattended for so long.

I try to navigate through the maze of unfamiliar sections, looking for Eva. The ominous silence of the library is a little uncomfortable. Even my steps are unnaturally quiet, the soft carpet swallowing the sound. Yet, a drumbeat of anxiety I can’t explain resonates within me.

I turn a corner, and my heart stumbles into a breathless halt, an icy dread curling in my stomach. There, amid the deserted shelves, is Cole, cornering Eva. His towering frame looms over her petite form, his face inches from hers, so close in fact that some of his long blond hair has escaped his bun, brushing against her cheek as he speaks in hushed tones.

His blue eyes smolder with an intense blend of frustration and longing as he clearly tries to convince her of something. Eva’s eyes are wide, her usual pragmatic demeanor replaced with visible distress. Her hands clutch her books tightly, a shield against his unwanted advances.

I rush forward, my protective instincts kicking in. “Hey, what’s going on here?” I demand, my voice slicing through the silence. The sudden interruption startles them, their heads snapping toward me. Cole whirls around, his eyes wide with surprise before he quickly smooths his expression into a casual grin. “We were only talking. It’s nothing for you to worry about,” he says, his tone too smooth, too rehearsed.

Eva pushes past him, clutching her books to her chest. “It’s nothing, Poppy,” she insists, her voice trembling a bit. We had agreed not to share our past, but the fear in her eyes speaks volumes.

I nod, pretending to accept her words, but my mind is made up. As I steer Eva away, my thoughts linger on Cole, a looming threat that I silently vow to neutralize.

I wrap my arm around Eva’s shoulder, and I throw a last deadly look toward Cole, who does not even register it as his calculating eyes are on Eva’s back.

“Eva, we need to talk about—“ I begin, my voice laced with concern as we reach the table.

She cuts me off, her voice a firm, unyielding barrier. “Don’t, Poppy.” Her hands, trembling ever so slightly, hastily gather her belongings, shoving them into her messenger bag with a disregard that belies her usually meticulous nature.

“But, Eva.”

She closes her bag and sighs. “We made a deal, and you didn’t want to talk about Ethan. I didn’t press.”

“I know, but—“ I look at her now, seeing determination where I initially saw fear. “I’m not afraid of Ethan. He’s a nuisance at best, a reminder of a past that… hurts. You looked afraid, Eva, and I think under this bravado, you still are,” I add, looking at her tight fist resting on the table.

She follows my eyes and unclenches her fist. “I’m not scared of Cole Westbrook,” she says firmly, pushing her glasses up her nose; a subtle flicker of something undefinable in her eyes betrays her words. “I was not ready. It won’t happen again.”

“Ready for what? Eva—“

She slings her bag over her shoulder. “Do you need me to take you somewhere?” The finality in her voice shows me the subject is closed.

“One more thing. Are you in any kind of danger?”

I think she must see the genuine worry on my face because the hardness of her face softens, and she’s my friend again. “Not anymore.”

Not anymore is not really the answer I want. I wanted a loud and resounding “no.”

My mouth opens, then snaps shut, a silent surrender to the battle before me. Recognizing a lost cause doesn’t mean I can’t wage a silent war in her defense, unbeknownst to her.

“Want me to drop you at work?” I look at my watch now that Eva cut her study session short. I have a couple of hours to kill before work, and I decide to do something I swore I’d never do, but for Eva, I am ready to. I’m going to look for Ethan Hawthorne.

“No, since the study session is canceled, I’ll use this time to work on my own things.”

Her eyes flicker with a speck of suspicion as she nods, an unspoken question lingering in the air between us. “What time are you finishing tonight? I can come pick you up. I’m not a fan of you coming back at night from there.”

I wave my hand. “No worries, I’ll be home late anyway. I’ve got to babysit my brothers, but Mom will give me a ride back later. I’ll manage.”

“Poppy…” she trails off, her eyes searching mine, laden with concern and a silent warning. “Don’t go meddling into something that has nothing to do with you.”

“I won’t go talk to that blond Neanderthal if that’s what you are thinking. You tell me you’re fine, then you’re fine.”

She throws me a last look and nods. “Okay. I’ll see you later then.”

“Yep!” Once we exit the building, I watch her go in the direction of her car, and I take a left down toward the Lions stadium, already dreading my next action.

Realizing Ethan has been looking into me, I start digging for information on him. It’s surprisingly easy to get what I need. Girls are always eager to chat about varsity players, and I’ve secured the soccer team’s training schedule, so I know the best times to wander the campus without bumping into him.

The soccer ground is bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun as I arrive, the players on the field moving in perfect synchronicity as the cheerleaders are working on their routine at the other end of the field.

I linger on the sideline, observing them for a few stolen moments. They move in a sea of bright-blue uniforms, high ponytails dancing joyfully with each coordinated movement, sharply juxtaposed with the turmoil brewing within me. I once again almost subconsciously reach for my own ponytail that is no longer there. I cut my hair short about six months after my family’s downfall. I went from expensive treatments, oil, and bimonthly hairdresser appointments to having to wash my hair with cheap shampoo. Which caused my beautiful, lustrous hair to become a tangle of unruly waves. I cut it short, and it was much easier to maintain. It is all I see now… practicality. With a sigh, I turn back toward the soccer practice and the screaming coach, trying to replace Ethan. Finally, I see him in the middle of the field; his movements are fluid and graceful, a ballet of power and precision, and even with how much I dislike him, I can’t help but admit he has a real gift.

Finally, Cole enters the field, stopping the practice as the coach turns all his frustration toward him, and he takes it with complete ease.

Ethan shakes his head, and as he turns toward the bleachers, he spots me, his eyes lighting up as he jogs over, a grin on his face.

“My cheerleader,” he teases, his tone light and playful. I resist the urge to roll my eyes.

“You wanted to talk? Let’s talk,” I say, cutting to the chase. “But one condition: you keep your rapey friend away from my friend,” I add, jerking my head toward Cole, who is now on the grass doing push-ups as a punishment.

His smile falters, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Cole is not rapey,” he defends, but I cut him off. “I don’t care. I’ll answer two questions.”

He groans quietly, running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair. “Fine, Cole will stay away. Why are you starting university now?” I meet his gaze, my expression steely.

“Because your family took everything from me, and I’m poor.”

He narrows his eyes, his nostrils flaring with frustration. “That’s a bit vague.”

I shrug. “It’s my answer. Next question.”

He pauses, thinking for a second, detailing my face in a way that makes me quite uncomfortable.

“Why change your name?”

“Because being the daughter of Alan Lockwood, the man forever branded as an embezzler and who met his end in a prison cell”—I pause, swallowing the lump in my throat—“is a cross too heavy to bear,” I admit. Bitterness seeps into each word, an anomaly to my usual composed demeanor.

His eyes widen with surprise. The coach calls his name, but he ignores it.

“I think you’re needed back on the field. Are we good?”

He hesitates before asking, “Why did you vanish from social media? You have not posted since the day before the incident.”

“Incident.” I laugh bitterly. “What a nice way to put it. You asked your two questions, I answered.”

“Hawthorne! Come play soccer and leave your girlfriend!”

“I’m neither his girlfriend nor his friend,” I retort sharply, my words edged with a coldness meant to distance myself from the insinuation.

The coach lets out a hearty laugh, a sound that carries across the field. “At least there’s one girl with a brain in the bunch. Good on ya, lass.”

Ethan looks at me, his eyes filled with emotions I can’t quite decipher.

“Can we call a truce?” he asks quietly. I consider his words, the sincerity in his gaze.

I nod. “Yes, I offered that before. Let’s pretend we’ve never met and go on our merry way.”

“That’s not what I mean,” he protests. “I don’t want to pretend I don’t know you, Poppy.”

Somehow, hearing him calling me Poppy instead of Pauper strikes a chord I hate.

“I think—“

I raise my hand to cut him off. “I don’t associate with athletes.”

He offers a half smile, a seemingly gentle gesture that sends an unsettling ripple through my stomach. “It’s good I’m not an athlete,” he retorts.

I look heavenward and shake my head. “I don’t associate with people who ruined my life.”

“It was not me,” he insists, his voice filled with frustration.

“You enjoyed my downfall,” I accuse, my voice cold. “That’s enough for me. Keep Cole away from Eva, Hawthorne, I mean that.”

He takes a step closer, his hands raised in a gesture of peace. “Poppy, I had nothing to do with what happened to you or your father. I was a kid like you. I swear, I didn’t enjoy your downfall. I didn’t even know what was happening until it was all over.” He extends a hand toward me, an offering of peace and reconciliation. “Why not leave the old rivalry at the door and give friendship a try?”

I stare at his outstretched hand, the heaviness of the decision resting on my shoulders. The past and the present collide in a whirlwind of emotions, the pain and betrayal of the past battling with the possibility of healing and forgiveness in the present. My heart pounding, I gather my courage and make my choice.

I turn and walk away, leaving him standing on the field, his hand still extended. I hope that the chapter of Ethan and Cole is closed, a painful memory to be buried and forgotten, as Eva and I work hard to leave the past where it belongs.