Chapter 35: The Narcissist On The Field

I stepped forward, my voice cutting through the humid, sun-drenched air of the athletic field with cold, unyielding authority.

"Alexander Thorne!"

The muscular heir didn’t even break his stride, continuing his slow, theatrical jog around the track as though he hadn’t heard a single word.

"We’ve been waiting here for minutes under this scorching sun simply because of you," I called out, my gaze narrowing.

Alexander casually pulled out his sleek terminal while maintaining his pace, giving me a dismissive, arrogant smirk. "Well, I’ve been out here for hours, Brown. Maybe you should learn to do better than stand around for a few minutes. Consider it a low-tier endurance exercise." He says with his stupid British accent.

The small crowd of female students clustered near the perimeter fence burst into high-pitched giggles and cheers. "Alexander!"

"You’re looking incredible!"

"Look this way, Alex!"

He flashed them a blinding, practiced smile without slowing down an inch. "Sorry, ladies! I’m completely taken!"

I watched him for a moment, letting the sheer absurdity of his narcissism wash over me. Alexander Thorne was ridiculously, almost absurdly muscular for a nineteen-year-old.

His heavy, well-built physique made him look closer to twenty-five, and his broad shoulders and dense, carved arms were designed to draw immediate, breathless attention wherever he went, well effects of too much gym.

Yet his appeal wasn’t limited purely to his raw size. He possessed long, unkempt brown hair, striking ocean-blue eyes, and a facial structure so sharply defined it looked like a literal piece of classical art, he’s handsome but nothing compared to me.

Standing there observing him, I wasn’t the least bit surprised that the campus girls were practically ready to tear each other apart just for a fraction of his focus.

I glanced over at Amelie, who was pushing up her glasses with an expression of pure, unadulterated irritation, before turning my eyes back to the flexing narcissist.

"Listen, Thorne," I said, my voice dropping into a sharper, more dangerous register. "We have an institutional group assignment to complete, and I have zero intention of wasting my entire day watching you perform for your fan club. Get over here right now, or I’ll make sure you deeply regret wasting our time."

Alexander finally slowed down slightly, but he still refused to approach. He laughed, a smooth, condescending sound.

"That’s adorable, Brown. Do you rehearse your little threats in front of a mirror every morning?"

I tightened my jaw, my tone frosting over. "I could easily have you reported for obstructing a mandatory academic assignment. And considering how much political capital and public exposure your family syndicate relies on, I’m rather certain they wouldn’t appreciate you drawing disciplinary penalties over something this remarkably stupid."

"Please," Alexander scoffed, tossing his head. "My family has infinitely better things to worry about than a freshman group project, why don’t you run along now you poor freak."

"Then perhaps I should give them something genuinely substantial to worry about."

Alexander stopped dead in his tracks. The playful, mocking smile vanished entirely from his face as he turned his upper body toward me, his ocean-blue eyes narrowing into cold slits.

"You really think you can threaten me?" he sneered, taking a slow step toward the edge of the track. "Do you even know who the fuck I am?"

"Unfortunately," I replied deadpan, "I’ve been forced to look at your face for the past ten minutes."

"Then keep looking, because I’m nowhere near finished."

I let out a measured, quiet sigh. "You are making this unnecessarily difficult, Alexander."

"Oh yeah? Enlighten me."

"Of course," I said smoothly, letting a dark, calculated edge slip into my tone. "If you genuinely don’t care about your own academic standing or institutional record, perhaps the Thorne Syndicate would be fascinated to learn how their precious heir behaves when entrusted with even a shred of corporate responsibility.

And you know every single noble family has dark, carefully guarded secrets they would rather keep buried. I’d deeply hate for your arrogant little stunts to bring unwanted, microscopic attention to yours."

That finally hit the exact nerve I was aiming for.

Alexander’s entire demeanor shifted from arrogant playboy to volatile rage. The playfulness vanished from his eyes, replaced by a dark, murderous fury.

He stormed off the track, marching straight toward me until he was standing directly in my space.

We stood almost eye-to-eye, though Alexander’s significantly bulkier, broader frame gave the visual illusion that he towered over me.

I possessed a dense, highly athletic build, the kind of compact, functional muscle that stayed expertly concealed beneath standard academy uniforms, unlike the flashy, sleeveless gear Alexander preferred to parade around in.

He was wearing a handless white compression shirt that aggressively highlighted his massive chest and defined arms, paired with black sweatpants and designer sneakers. He stopped mere inches from my face, his chest heaving.

"Don’t you dare fucking put my family’s name in your goddamn mouth," he growled, his voice vibrating with suppressed violence. "Or else I’ll put you right back in your proper place, you freaking poor bastard."

I didn’t blink. I didn’t even take a half-step back. My expression remained entirely deadpan, a mask of cold, unbothered indifference.

"Every noble family has skeletons in their closet, Alexander," I whispered, my voice cutting through the humid air like a razor. "And I might as well start digging into yours if you refuse to behave like a civilized student and instead force me to fail this group project."

Alexander’s fist curled so tightly his knuckles turned completely white. Veins bulged along his thick forearms.

Before he could throw a wild punch, and before Amelie could panic or cry out for campus security, a familiar, melodic voice rang out from behind us.

"Wait! Stop!" A girl hurried onto the field, stepping smoothly between us.

It was Emma Bentley. Emma was Alexander’s girlfriend, and though she had already commanded a massive following before the academy term even commenced, her popularity had exploded exponentially since arrival.

Nearly everyone in the whole school knew her name, and she was comfortably the most talked-about, desired female student upon entering the school, well she was popular before she hot here I guess.

The instant Alexander caught sight of her, the volcanic rage in his body instantly evaporated. His clenched fist slowly uncurled, dropping uselessly to his side.

"You’re lucky, Brown," he muttered, glaring at me with pure venom. "You’re exceptionally lucky she showed up."

He turned his back on me without another second of hesitation, immediately sweeping Emma up into his arms and pulling her flush against his massive frame. He devoured her lips in a deep, aggressive, utterly possessive kiss right in front of us, establishing total dominance over her space.

Off to the side, the group of female students who had been cheering him on moments earlier let out synchronized, dramatic gasps. A few of them practically shed crocodile tears as they watched their beloved campus idol lock lips with another woman.

Amelie crossed her arms, rolling her eyes behind her thick-rimmed glasses. "Get a room, you two."

They finally broke apart, though Alexander kept a heavy, possessive arm locked firmly around Emma’s slender waist, refusing to let her drift even an inch away.

"Did you actually agree to this stupid, tedious thing called a group project, babe?" Alexander asked her, his tone softening dramatically.

Emma gave a smooth, elegant nod, her green eyes shimmering. "Yes, Alex. We need to clear it to maintain our standings."

Alexander scoffed, throwing one last dirty look over his shoulder at me. "Well... just because of you, I might reconsider participating."

"Then you better reconsider quickly, you waste of space," I shot back smoothly, my tone dripping with absolute indifference. "Once you’re finally done playing around, send Amelie a direct message letting her know you’re ready. We’ll ping your terminal with the exact location for our official group briefing."

Alexander’s jaw clenched once more, his hand instantly balling back into a tight fist at his side.

But before he could launch into another tirade, Emma leaned up and kissed him deeply once again, deliberately guiding his large hand down to rest heavy and flat across her tight, rounded ass.

When they finally separated for the second time, Emma gave me a long, lingering side-eye, slowly tucking a stray strand of her vibrant red hair behind her ear.

A dark smirk touched my lips as I caught her subtle glance.

Emma Bentley was an absolute knockout. Her body was built for sin, an impossibly narrow waist, a massive, firm backside, and a heavy, full chest that looked like it was practically fighting to spill out of her fitted outfit.

She wore a short, pleated designer skirt that hugged her thighs, with a little part of her ass visible in the beneath the skirt, and for a split second, I genuinely wished for a sudden breeze to pass by just so I could catch a glimpse of what color her panties were, how perverted am I.

With her vibrant red hair and striking green eyes, she commanded attention wherever she went.

I didn’t want to read too much into a single look, but I knew that expression anywhere. It was the exact way girls looked at a guy when a hidden, dangerous spark of interest started to flicker inside them.

’Sorry, Alex,’ I thought, a ruthless, dark satisfaction rising in my chest as a sudden surge of heat hit me below the belt. ’If you don’t put your girl on a tight leash, I might just end up taking her for myself. Because the way she just looked at me... gave me a massive fucking boner.’

Without another word, I turned on my heel and walked off the field with Amelie, leaving the golden boy and his influencer girlfriend behind. "Well I’ll say this once I hate your ideas." She says.

And grin wide, "Be prepared for more."