Chapter 4

Imani's POV

The pounding in my skull was like the bass of last night's music still playing in my head. I groaned, pressing a pillow over my head, trying to block out the sunlight spilling through my curtains.

My mouth felt like cotton, and my throat dry sand, reminding me that I had let June convince me into going to the cursed party in the first place.

This might even be the last and ever party.

A knock came in.

“Imani Grayson,” A familiar, deep angry voice snapped through the door.

My heart stuttered and my eyes widened. “Tyrique.”

I sat up too quickly, wincing as the room turned around me as if I drank alcohol and I was just recovering from a hangover. “Oh, no,” I muttered under my breath.

The door burst open before I could even respond. My brother's presence filled the doorway, tall, broad-shouldered, and fuming. His jaw was tight, arms crossed like he was trying to stop himself from throwing something. Behind him, June stood awkwardly, eyes down, her fingers twisting around the hem of— Jackson oversized hoodie.

“Ty,” I slowly said, trying to sound casual. “You're early.”

He ignored that. “Why the hell would you get out of Zack's sight?”

I rubbed my temples. “He had plans. It wasn't that serious…”

“Not that serious?” His voice was thunderous now. “You were supposed to have someone watching your back, Imani! Do you know how I found out where you were? Through my driver!”

June winced beside him.

Trique pointed at her. “I got a call—from Zach, saying he couldn't reach either of you. You didn't answer your phone, June didn't answer hers. He thought something happened, so he called me. I show up at a damn frat house— Nic’s frat house— and guess who I find?” He glared at June.

June's voice came out small. “Me.”

I pressed my lips together, guilt swirling in my stomach. Just by the scene today, it was a sign that things weren't going to move so well today.

Tyrique turned his anger on me again. “You're lucky I didn't find you there either. You'd be grounded until graduation and who knows, you would have to repeat lectures.”

“Ty..”

“No. You're not going to keep doing this, Imani. You know what happens at those places. You know better.” His voice softened, almost imperceptibly. “After freshman year, I thought..”

“I know,” I whispered, cutting him off before he brought to the incident I spent years trying to forget.

He sighed, rubbing his hand over his face, and after a tense pause, muttered. “Just…be smarter. Both of you.” He shot June a look before heading out. “And tell Zach to chill before he gives me a heart attack over you.”

The door closed behind him with a heavy thud.

For a moment, silence filled the room before June exhaled shakily.

“God,” she muttered. “I thought he was going to unalive me.”

I slumped against my bed frame, managing a small smile. “I thought so too.”

But the tension between us didn't fade. I looked at her and noticed her eyes darted away, how she kept adjusting her sleeves, how pale she looked.

“June,” I said quietly. What happened last night?”

Her shoulders stiffened. “Nothing. You should drink some water, I'll make coffee before we…”

“June.” I called again but she was already out of sight.

“Get ready!”

≈

By the time we finally got dressed and grabbed our bags, the handover had already dropped and June's face was now looking all calm, still ignoring my questions.

We were halfway through the quad when my phone buzzed.

“Dean Martin's Office.”

My stomach dropped and June noticed my change of mood.

“What's wrong, Mani?”

“I am summoned to Dean Martin's office.” I responded, my expression turning into a bothered gaze.

I’d never been called in before, not once. I replayed the night in my mind. Did someone report me? Did Tyrique call her?

Even if they did… going to parties shouldn’t be a bad thing.

“You'll be fine. He's probably calling for something good.”

I looked over June again and decided to initiate the question.

“What's wrong June? What happened?”

There it was again, that glare of shame, behind her eyes and finally, she sighed. “I didn't want to tell you because I didn't want to freak you out.”

“Well, too late for that.”

She glanced at her hands. “Ryan kicked me out. After I said no.

The words felt like a sharp slap across my face.

I blinked. “He…what?”

Her voice trembled. “He invited me upstairs, said we should get to know each other better. I thought he just wanted to talk, but when I said I wasn't interested…he got angry.”

“He said I was wasting his time and kicked me out of his room. Then Zach couldn't reach me, and I guess he thought you were there too, so he called Tyrique.”

I went silent.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to cause trouble…”

“June, don’t apologize,” I cut in sharply. “He’s a jerk. A complete jerk and you did nothing wrong.”

She nodded, then stood, brushing at her hoodie. “Anyway, I’ve got a class in twenty. You should rest, you look half-dead.”

“Thanks for the compliment,” I muttered, taking a shaky breath as I headed for the administration building.

The university's main hall was buzzing with morning chatter and I tried to steady my anxious heartbeat, but then…

“Nice outfit, Grayson,” a sneering voice called out.

Brittany.

She and her two friends leaned against a pillar, iced coffees in hand, perfect hair glinting under the light.

I ignored them and kept walking.

“Didn’t know the nerd could clean up that well,” another chimed in. “Guess last night wasn’t a total disaster, huh?”

I swallowed hard, keeping my pace even.

“Leave it, Britt,” I heard one whisper, mockingly low. “She’s probably still hungover.”

But then I caught sight of a familiar face near the entrance—Ryder.

He was leaning casually against the railing, backpack over one shoulder, laughing with a friend. When his gaze flicked to mine, time seemed to stutter.

A small smile curved his lips.

My heart skipped, traitorous and wild. Last night, standing in my room, phone in hand, voice shaking as I’d recorded that stupid late-night confession.

“I shouldn’t feel this much, but I like you. A lot more than I should, probably.”

God, I wanted to bury myself. Why did I do something so stupid out of anger!

“Imani!” someone called.

I turned the corner too quickly, straight into a firm chest.

My books flew from my hand.

“Watch it.”

I looked up, and there he was, the devil. Nicolas Jamieson.

A smirk tugging at his lips as he stood tall. He looked like sin and sleepless nights, rumpled hoodie, baseball cap, a smell of whiskey still on him.

Of all people!

“N.. Nic,” I stammered, stepping back.

His brow furrowed, like he was trying to place me as if I wasn't there yesterday. As if he didn't talk down to me yesterday. “Imani Grayson,” he said finally before adding, “Tyrique’s little sister.”

It looked like he was reminding himself more than he was referring to me as his ex best friend sister.

I crouching to grab my books and at the same time, he bent to help, his fingers brushing mine for a split second.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, handing me my notebook.

“I was called in by Dean Martin,” I said.

His mouth twisted. “Same.”

Same??

Something was definitely wrong!

Together, we walked the silent hallway leading to the Dean’s office.

“You in trouble?” he asked casually.

“I don’t think so,” I said quickly. “You?”

He shrugged. “Depends on how you define trouble.”

When we entered, Dean Martin looked up from his desk in a calm and polite expression. “Ah, good. You’re both here.”

Nic leaned against the wall, arms crossed while I sat, curiosity getting the best of me.

Dean Martin folded his hands. “Nicolas, you’re aware you’re on academic probation.”

“Yeah.”

“And after last week’s incident with your instructor…”

Nic’s jaw tightened. “I lost my temper.”

He nodded once. “Once would be tagged a mistake but this is a reoccurring issue… you’re in danger of losing your scholarship if your grades don’t improve this semester.”

He looked away.

Then Dean Martin’s gaze shifted to me. “Imani, you’ve maintained a near-perfect GPA and have shown strong leadership in peer mentorship. I’ve been considering you for a new position—Student Mentor and Graduate Retention Assistant.”

I blinked. “I… I’d be honored.”

“There’s a catch, with a bonus” he said.

Nic’s head tilted slightly.

Dean Martin continued, “I’d like you to mentor Nicolas for the remainder of the semester academically, and if possible, personally.”

“Help him rebuild structure, discipline, and emotional focus. You’ll report weekly on his progress… once his grade picks up, you’d get your recommendation letter from me.”

My mouth went dry and regardless of her offer, no was at the tip of my tongue.

Nicolas Jameson wasn’t the kind of boy you helped… he was the kind you stayed away from.

Everything about him carried a whisper of danger… from the lazy tilt of his grin, to the way his gaze lingered… I hated to admit that he smelt like sin… it clung to him like second skin.

Not to talk of his arrogance, saying yes to him would be a mistake.