Chapter 5

I tried to keep my face neutral, chin up, steps even, but my skin burned under the weight of a hundred stares. Asher, of course, looked perfectly at ease like he’d brought me here for the sole purpose of being watched.

He slid into a seat at the center table, pulling me down beside him. It was the table everyone knew not to approach unless invited. His teammates sat nearby, some exchanging curious looks, others hiding knowing smirks.

Gerald was across the room, tray in hand, frozen mid-step. Our eyes met.

For a split second, he looked… off balance. Like he hadn’t expected this. Then his mouth curled into that familiar smug smirk, the one that said he thought he was still in control.

I turned deliberately back to Asher, forcing a laugh at something he said just loud enough for it to carry. It wasn’t even funny but it was effective.

“Are you good?” Asher asked me.

“Sure I'm fine,” I responded, acting as if I wasn't feeling uneasy. We both had our lunch at the dining hall with his teammates cracking funny jokes.

*****

By the third day of the fake arrangement, I realized something I hadn’t expected, Asher Coleman was… persistent. Not in the arrogant, chest-thumping alpha way Gerald had been. No,

Asher was precise. Every move felt intentional, like he’d mapped it out three steps ahead. And that, somehow, was worse. Because it was starting to mess with my head.

I sat alone at one of the stone tables in the campus quad, picking apart the sandwich I’d thrown together in my tiny dorm kitchen space.

My wolf grumbled inside me. I wasn’t hungry, but skipping lunch wasn’t an option. The dorm food wasn’t great, and buying something from the food court meant lingering among the pack of kids and human students who loved giving me side-eyes I didn’t have the patience for.

I was halfway through peeling the crust from my sandwich when a shadow fell across the table.

“Move that,” a deep voice said.

I blinked up at him. “Excuse me?”

“Your lunch. Move it.” Asher’s tone was even, but his amber eyes locked on mine like he’d just issued an order in front of an audience.

I narrowed my eyes but slid the sad sandwich aside. “Why?”

He didn’t bother explaining. Instead, he set down a brown paper bag, and instantly my nose caught the intoxicating scent of roasted chicken, warm bread, and something tangy and herb-sweet that made my mouth water.

I frowned. “I didn’t ask for this.”

“Good,” he said, already unwrapping the sandwich from its parchment. “It’s not charity.”

“Then what is it?” I asked.

He pushed the sandwich toward me, his long fingers brushing the back of my hand. “An investment. Can’t have my fake girlfriend passing out in the middle of the quad. Bad optics.”

My lips twitched despite myself. “Wow. You know how to sweep a girl off her feet. Romantic speeches, candlelight dinners… and now roast chicken in a paper bag.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, that infuriating smirk tugging at his mouth. “Eat.”

“You’re seriously going to sit there and watch me eat?” I said.

Yes.” He replied.

“That’s… creepy,” I said.

“That’s commitment,” he countered. With a sigh, I took a bite. My eyes widened despite myself.

“Okay… fine. This is good.”

“I know,” he said.

“Are you always this humble?” I muttered around a mouthful.

“I have my moments,” he replied.

He leaned back in his chair, and only then did I notice how many eyes were on us. Across the quad, two girls whispered behind their hands.

Another pretended to scroll her phone while angling the camera toward us.

I lowered my voice. “You do know people are watching, right?”

“That’s the point,” he said.

Before I could respond, he moved so casually I almost missed the intention and draped his arm across the back of my seat. His fingertips brushed my shoulder, slow and deliberate, like he wanted me to notice.

I froze. My pulse skipped. The warmth of his touch bled into my skin, spreading far quicker than I wanted to admit.

It’s fake, I reminded myself. He’s acting.

Still, I didn’t move away.

“You’re enjoying this,” I accused softly.

His eyes glinted, the corner of his mouth curving just slightly. “Maybe.”

“Careful, Coleman. People might start thinking you like me.” I said with a smile.

“They might,” he said, leaning close enough for his breath to warm my ear. “But we’ll both know better.”

********

Later that week, things took a different turn. Gerald started showing up in places he usually didn’t bother with, lingering near my training sessions, passing me in hallways with smug little comments.

“Careful, Kiera,” he said one afternoon, as I bent to tie my shoelace before combat drills. “Wouldn’t want you to trip in front of your… celebrity boyfriend.”

My jaw tightened. “You mean the one who acknowledges I exist? Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind.”

His eyes narrowed, just slightly. “You think he’s serious about you? Please. He’s using you for something. You’ll see.”

Before I could answer, a voice cut in from behind me. “That’s enough.”

It was Asher.

Gerald straightened, displaying innocence. “Just giving some friendly advice.”

“Your advice is worth less than the dirt on my skate blades,” Asher said, stepping between us.

The dominance in his stance was outstanding, even the few students nearby instinctively backed off.

Gerald smirked, but I didn’t miss the way his fingers curled slightly. “We’ll see who’s laughing in the end.”

Gerald walked off and left both of them.

“Training starts now. Come with me.” Asher said. Before I could say a word, he dragged me to follow him.

*******

Asher didn’t treat me like a fragile newbie, and I hated how much I liked that.

“Again,” he said after I botched a defensive maneuver.

“You’re supposed to teach me, not run me into the ground,” I panted.

“I am teaching you,” he replied, circling me like a predator. “You’re not going to beat people like

Gerald by asking nicely. You need to move faster and think sharply. Be willing to hit harder than they expect.”

He lunged without warning, and I barely managed to sidestep before his hand caught my wrist.

“Better,” he murmured, his breath warm against my ear.

My pulse spiked. I twisted out of his grip, but his other hand came up, brushing a loose strand of hair away from my face. His touch was gentle.

I swallowed hard. “You’re doing that thing again.”

“What thing?” he asked.

“Looking at me like…” I stopped, realizing I didn’t want to finish the sentence.

He smirked. “Like what, Kiera?”

I stepped back, breaking the moment. “Never mind.”

Something unreadable flickered in his eyes, but he didn’t answer. We continued the training in silence till it ended.

That evening, as I was packing my bag to leave the training hall, my phone buzzed with a message from an unknown number.

“Stay away from him, little reject. You think being with Asher makes you safe? Think again.”