Chapter 43: Sadie: Lunch Delivery

SADIE

No one tells you the cost of being popular until you accidentally become popular for all the wrong reasons, and then it hits you all at once.

Take me, for example. I’ve been moving around campus like a wanted criminal, which feels a little excessive considering I’m the victim here. Or at least one of them, depending on who you ask.

The WAG group definitely has a different opinion.

I thought they’d welcome me, maybe even help defend me against Paige’s fans, but instead I was kicked out of the group for tarnishing Trey’s image by getting him and Ezra to fight. As if I grabbed Trey by the ear, dragged him across the room, and ordered him to start swinging.

Good riddance anyway. I found a few supporters at the omega welfare center when I went to renew my coverage on Tuesday, so at least I know the entire campus hasn’t decided my downfall is necessary just because he defended me.

None of this would be a problem if people listened when I said we’re not dating. But he defended me, fought his brother, so my word doesn’t count.

At this rate, I’m tempted to ask Paige to post the truth on her gossip blog, which says enough about how desperate things have gotten.

Not that I’ve seen her lately. Or Ezra. They’re either recovering, plotting, or doing both, and every nightmare I have about Paige finally retaliating makes their disappearance feel less comforting.

"What are you wearing?" a voice comes from behind me.

I spin around so fast I nearly trip, one hand flying to my chest when I realize it’s Nia. "Oh my gosh. You scared the crap out of me. Why didn’t you come through the main door?"

She blinks at me. "Girl, you’re the one who scared me." Her gaze drags slowly from my hat to my shoes, and the longer she looks, the more offended she seems. "You look..." She pauses, clearly searching for a kinder word and failing. "Who are you hiding from?"

I glance down at myself. "Is it that obvious?"

She points at me. "A long oversized coat, sunglasses, a hat, and those jeans? Sadie, you look like a felon with an active case."

I press my lips together because the whole point of this outfit was to blend in, not look like I’m dodging a warrant. Judging by the way Nia is scowling at me, though, I may have miscalculated.

Still, it’s not my fault I can’t even walk into the student center for Quiz Bowl without people recognizing me now.

Damn Trey Mercer for that. Actually, the whole Mercer family can share the blame.

I yank off the hat and push it into my bag. "I thought this made me less noticeable."

"As your VP, you know I’ll always have your back, but this outfit is where I draw the line." A smirk starts to tug at her mouth as she steps closer. "So it’s true, then?"

My fingers pause at the zipper. "What’s true?"

"You and Trey." Her smirk fades a little. "I didn’t want to believe it at first because I know about Ezra, and most people don’t, so I figured they were just filling in the blanks with whatever sounded good. But now...I don’t know anymore."

"It’s not true at all." I cross my palms into an X in front of me. "Nothing is happening between us."

Nia keeps looking at me like she’s waiting for the part where I admit I’m lying, and because I trust her enough to give her a little more, I lower my hands.

"I’m staying with him for a while. Temporarily."

Her eyes widen. "Staying with him?"

"We’re roommates."

That does not help my case.

"Roommates?" She gawks at me for a second longer. "How is that even possible?"

There are levels to my trust, and Nia is comfortably above classmate but still several floors below Lola. She knows enough about me to ask questions, not enough to get the entire answer.

A polite smile is all she gets. "It’s a long story."

She lights up anyway. "So you wake up and he’s just there? Shirtless in the kitchen? That kind of thing?"

"You’ve watched too many rom-coms." I snort. "He’s barely even there in the mornings."

"Fuck me!" she screeches.

I flinch and move back a step. "Nia."

"So you’re serious?" Her mouth falls open. "You’re actually living with him?"

Her reaction would make more sense if I’d told her I was sharing an apartment with a movie star people had posters of on their walls. Living with Trey has been a lot less fantasy and a lot more irritation, considering most of what he’s done since I moved in a week ago—almost two now—is get on my nerves.

Saving me at the party should count in his favor, but after the mess that followed, I’m not even sure how much credit I want to give him for that.

"I’m not making it up," I tell her. "But if it helps, he’s not the Prince Charming you’re imagining."

At least Prince Charming wouldn’t rescue you and scowl at your dress or call it cheap.

Nia doesn’t seem to care about that anymore, though. Something behind me has completely stolen her attention, leaving her frozen. Her eyes are wide, her lips pressed together, and she looks a little constipated.

"You make me sound difficult," A masculine voice comes from behind me.

I go still, mentally rejecting the first name that comes to mind.

Trey has no reason to be here. We’re inside the Quiz Bowl practice room, my club members should be arriving any minute, and it could be Noah, Caleb or Marcus. All perfectly possible options.

At least they would be if Nia didn’t look like she was trying not to laugh, scream, or both.

I turn slowly, hanging on to the last bit of hope until I’m facing the door and there he is.

Trey.

And he’s not alone.

Half the club is spilling into the room behind him, which would be fine if they were acting normal. They are not.

"Hey, Prez," someone calls from the back, "are we recruiting new members now?"

That gets a ripple of laughter through the room, along with a few not-so-subtle looks in my direction.

My mouth opens, closes, then gives up completely.

There are several questions I should probably be asking right now, starting with how Trey managed to get this far into the room without me hearing a single footstep. More importantly, why did nobody think to warn me while he was walking up behind me like some kind of silent predator?

"Hi," Nia whispers beside me.

I turn to glare at her before forcing my attention back to Trey. "What are you doing here?"

He lifts the paper bag in his hand. "Brought you lunch."

My gaze follows it, and that tiny movement is all my teammates need.

The room erupts into one long, collective "Aww."

I close my eyes for half a second.

"No, because it’s about time," I hear Sophia say. "Prez has been single forever."

Marcus joins in. "I thought Quiz Bowl was the only thing she had time for."

They all laugh again and the smirk on Trey’s face tells me he’s enjoying every second of walking into my kingdom and setting fire to it.

He steps closer and holds out the bag, and I take it because the sooner I do, the sooner this whole scene can be over.

Instead of leaving, Trey leans in until his mouth is close to my ear. "That outfit looks horrendous. My publicist will chew my ear off again if she catches you in it."

He pulls back wearing the warmest smile I’ve seen on him all week.

My fingers tighten around the food bag, and I swallow the growl threatening to come out as Trey turns toward the rest of the room.

"We’ve got a home game Friday," he tells them. "You’re all invited. I’ll make sure Quiz Bowl gets a reserved section."

My teammates start clapping, and it only gets worse from there. Someone whistles, someone else calls him a legend, and now everyone who was supposed to be on my side is thanking Trey.

I stare at him, trying to figure out what part of this is supposed to help. Because if he’s trying to kill the dating rumors, bringing me lunch and charming my entire team feels like the exact opposite approach.

And the outfit? I’m only dressed like this because of him. Whatever issue his publicist has with it can stay between the two of them.

He gives me one last smile before heading out, leaving me to deal with the mess he created.

"I will put every single person laughing on rooster duty," I warn them.

Nobody is intimidated. In fact, they laugh harder.

Traitors, every last one of them.

I carry the food bag to the side of the room and try not to think too hard about the stupid flutter sitting low in my stomach. Definitely not butterflies. More likely ulcer. Stress. Poor sleep. Anything but butterflies.

When I finally look inside the bag, my annoyance slips a little.

It’s Cajun chicken penne with garlic knots from The Corner Plate. My favorite.

I stare at it for a moment, trying to remember if I ever told Trey that. Maybe I did. I must have. There’s no other way he would know, and my memory has been questionable lately anyway.