Chapter 5 - Contraband

Rae

And when I finally looked up, it wasn’t who I expected.

Not even close.

Brax Weston stood in the doorway balancing two pizza boxes, four sodas, and enough confidence to make it seem like he’d been invited.

Chrissy’s eyes widened.

Brax grinned.

“Good,” he announced. “You’re alive.”

I blinked.

“What?”

“You looked like you were about three bad thoughts away from joining a convent. Or committing murder. I wasn’t sure which, so I brought pizza.”

I stared at the boxes.

“Where did you even get pizza?”

He looked offended.

“Don’t worry about it.”

I narrowed my eyes.

“So it’s a secret?”

“Well, yeah. Obviously. Do you think anybody can just get pizza whenever they want around here?”

“…Yes?”

“Absolutely not,” he said, horrified. “This is an elite academy. They feed us rabbit food and sadness. Acquiring pizza requires connections.”

“What connections?”

“Pizza connections.”

“That isn’t an answer.”

“That’s because if I told you, I’d have to kill you, and frankly we’ve only known each other twelve minutes. It would be awkward.”

Chrissy snorted.

Meanwhile, I was trying to understand why one of the most popular guys at Ravenwood was standing in my room holding contraband pizza like we’d been friends since kindergarten.

Yesterday these people barely knew I existed.

Today they apparently had opinions about my emotional well-being.

What the hell was happening?

Brax set the soda down beside the boxes and then froze.

His eyes had landed on my bed.

More specifically—

On the rabbit.

His entire face lit up.

“Oh, you’re a nerd.”

I frowned.

“I’m not a nerd.”

He pointed triumphantly.

“Books. Tea. Plush rabbit. That’s adorable and very nerdesque.”

“That isn’t even a word.”

He grinned.

“Only a nerd would know that.”

“I am not a nerd.”

“Sweetheart, I say this with affection.”

Chrissy was already laughing.

“You know what this calls for?” Brax announced.

“No.”

“A tea party.”

“No.”

“A pizza tea party.”

“No.”

“We pour soda into tiny fancy teacups and pretend we’re sophisticated.”

“We don’t have tiny fancy teacups.”

He froze.

Stared.

Then slowly looked at me with genuine disappointment.

“Damn.”

Chrissy burst out laughing.

“Dream killer.”

“Sorry, I don’t own fancy teacups.”

“What kind of nerd are you?”

“The normal kind.”

His eyebrows shot upward.

“I thought you said you weren’t a nerd.”

I threw my hands in the air.

“We can drink straight from the can like peasants.” He sighed.

“That was your plan to begin with.”

“Yeah,” he admitted, grabbing a soda. “But the thought of being classy transformed this from a social gathering into a peasant activity.”

“You are unbelievable.”

“No, sweetheart. I’m adaptable.”

He popped open the soda.

“And for the record, peasant activities are my specialty.”

Chrissy had somehow ended up on the floor beside him, laughing as he divided slices between paper plates he had apparently smuggled in with the pizza.

I didn’t even remember inviting him inside.

Not that it mattered.

Brax acted like doors were merely suggestions.

And the strangest part?

I wasn’t annoyed.

I should have been.

I really should have been.

Instead, I found myself watching him and wondering why.

Why was I suddenly interesting?

Why now?

Yesterday nobody cared if I existed.

Yesterday I had been exactly what I wanted to be.

Invisible.

Now Julien Bennett had decided I needed company.

Lincoln Adler had volunteered to bring me my sketchbook.

And Brax Weston had somehow acquired illegal pizza because I’d looked sad.

Why?

More importantly—

What did they want?

Brax took a bite of pizza and nodded approvingly.

“Oh, by the way, Julien wanted to come.”

I nearly choked on my soda.

“What?”

“He wanted to come.”

“Why?”

He shrugged.

“You looked sad.”

“That isn’t an answer.”

“It was enough for him.”

I stared.

Brax continued eating.

“Grant said to leave you alone for one damn hour.”

I blinked.

“Grant what?”

“Oh, don’t look at me like that. He wasn’t growling or anything. Just all serious and annoying.”

Brax straightened his posture and deepened his voice.

“Leave her alone for one damn hour.”

Chrissy burst out laughing.

I didn’t.

Heat rose in my chest.

“He doesn’t get to decide that.”

Brax paused.

“No, probably not.”

“He ignored me for six years.”

He blinked.

“Okay.”

“He doesn’t get to suddenly decide who talks to me.”

“Also fair.”

“And I don’t care what he thinks.”

“Mm.”

My eyes narrowed.

“What does mm mean?”

“It means I’m chewing.”

Chrissy covered her mouth, trying not to laugh.

“I mean it.”

Brax nodded solemnly.

“Absolutely.”

Then he looked at Chrissy.

“She means it.”

Chrissy immediately looked away.

Traitor.

“I do,” I insisted.

“Sweetheart,” Brax said gently, “I’ve known you twenty minutes, and even I know that’s a lie.”

That shut me up.

Not because he was wrong, but because he wasn’t teasing.

There was no smug grin or triumphant look, just quiet honesty that made the words sting far more than they should have.

I’d known Brax Weston for less than half an hour.

Half an hour.

And somehow he had seen right through me.

Worst of all, I hated that he wasn’t wrong.

The knock on the door came before I could recover.

Brax’s head lifted.

Then he grinned.

“Oh, this is perfect.”

I frowned.

“What is?”

He stood and brushed crumbs from his lap.

“Speak of the emotionally constipated devil.”

Before I could stop him, Brax crossed the room and yanked open the door.

Grant stood on the other side.

His gaze moved over Brax, drifted past Chrissy sitting cross-legged on the floor, lingered on the open pizza boxes scattered across the room, and finally settled on me.

Something flickered across his face.

Because I was smiling.

A real smile.

And for one stupid second, I remembered who used to put it there.

Judging by the brief shift in his expression, Grant remembered too.

It vanished almost immediately, buried beneath the same quiet control he’d worn for years, but I’d known him too long to miss it.

Brax, completely oblivious to the emotional train wreck unfolding around him, beamed.

“Perfect timing,” he announced happily. “Grant, we were just discussing peasant activities. Rae crushed my dream of a classy pizza tea party because apparently she doesn’t own fancy teacups. Honestly, I don’t know how I’ve survived this betrayal.”

Grant’s eyes lingered on me for another heartbeat before he finally looked at Brax.

“What are you doing?”

“Hosting a cultural event,” Brax replied. “Would you like a slice, or are you here to judge us?”

Grant blinked.

“A what?”

“A pizza tea party.”

I closed my eyes.

“Please stop talking.”

“No.”

Grant looked genuinely confused now.

Chrissy was trying not to laugh.

Brax was eating another slice.

And somehow, after the longest, strangest day of my life—

The future Alpha heir of Ravenwood stood in the doorway staring at me like he didn’t know what to do with the sight in front of him.

For the first time in years—

Neither did I.