The Unwanted Pact With My Enemy

The walk back to the dorms was quiet. Dead leaves crunched beneath their boots.

Vesper shoved her freezing hands deep into her coat pockets. The adrenaline was wearing off, leaving her with a million questions.

"So," Vesper said, breaking the silence. "Who is she? Who is this girl that actually has the brains to hate you?"

Slade kicked a loose rock across the pavement. His jaw clenched. He looked uncomfortable, which was a rare sight.

"She's a cheerleader," Slade muttered. "Blonde. Loud. A total wildcat with a mouth full of thorns."

Vesper's brain stalled. She mentally scanned the cheerleading squad. There was only one blonde who fit that description perfectly. A cold dread began to pool in her stomach.

Slade stopped walking. He turned to face her and sighed. "It's Rowan Darcy."

Vesper stopped dead in her tracks. Her jaw literally dropped. She stared at Slade, waiting for the punchline. When he didn't laugh, she felt a wave of absolute absurdity wash over her.

"Rowan?" Vesper choked out. "Rowan Darcy is my roommate. Her bed is three feet away from mine."

A heavy silence stretched between them as Vesper's brain short-circuited. Of all the people on this massive campus, it had to be her. The universe really did have a twisted, sadistic sense of humor. The sheer statistical improbability of it made her want to laugh hysterically.

Slade smirked, the arrogant glint returning to his eyes. "I know. That's exactly why I need you. You're my inside man."

Vesper's head spun. She thought back to an hour ago-Rowan sitting on her bed, smiling idiotically at her phone, then panicking and hiding it when Vesper walked in. Was she texting Slade?

"Slade, you're delusional," Vesper said, shaking her head. "Rowan talks about you all the time, and it's never good. She called you a 'narcissistic meathead' just yesterday."

Slade actually laughed at that. "Hate is just passion pointing in the wrong direction, art girl. If she's talking about me, she's thinking about me."

Vesper groaned, rubbing her temples. She was dealing with a psychopath.

Slade pulled out his phone. "I'm sending you Julian's private number. Not the one he gives out to the student council. His actual number."

Vesper's phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out and stared at the contact card on the screen. Julian Hayes. Her heart did a traitorous little flutter.

"In exchange," Slade said, pointing a finger at her, "I want daily reports. What she eats, what movies she watches, what she complains about. Everything."

Vesper looked at Julian's number. It felt like she was signing a pact with the devil. But she hit 'Save Contact' anyway.

They reached the front steps of the girls' dormitory.

Slade stopped at the bottom of the stairs, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "Text him tonight. Just say hi. Don't overthink it."

Vesper swallowed hard and nodded. She turned and walked up the steps, pulling open the heavy glass door. The blast of central heating hit her freezing face.

She rode the elevator up to her floor in a daze. She felt like she was carrying a bomb in her pocket.

She unlocked her door and pushed it open.

Rowan was sitting at her desk, typing furiously on her laptop. The moment the door clicked, Rowan slammed the laptop shut with a loud bang.

Rowan spun around in her chair, her face flushed. "Hey! You're back late."

Vesper stared at her roommate. The guilt crashed into her. She was supposed to spy on her friend for a guy she hated, all so she could get close to a guy she thought was out of her league.

"Yeah," Vesper lied smoothly, walking to her bed and dropping her bag. "Just got caught up in the studio."

She lay down on her mattress, staring at the ceiling. Her phone felt like a brick in her pocket.