All Chapters of Tamed By The Campus Bad Boy: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

LEON'S POV“Leon, Leon!” Rose chirped excitedly as we walked out of the third class for the day, “I'm going to sit with Aliyah and Cassie, we have so much to catch up, while me and you…” she paused, giggling, “we can talk on our ride back home and all through the night, you okay with that?”I smiled, nodding. “I'll just grab an apple and leave, I'm not really that hungry.”“Oh,” her expression faltered, “you okay?”I nodded again, “yup.”Smiling warmly at me, she dashed off towards her old friends.The harsh chime of my phone notification shattered the silence in the hallway as I walked away from the lunch crowd. I pulled it out, my screen lighting up with a text from an unknown number, though I knew exactly who it was.“Meet me at the old gym in five minutes. Don’t keep me waiting, or I’ll find you myself.”I shoved the phone back into my pocket, my breath hitching. I didn't want to go.I wanted to go to the library, hide in the stacks, and finish my notes and add a few more chapters

LEON’S POVI almost didn’t go.I stood in the hallway for a full minute after Aaron disappeared around the corner, my phone still clutched in my hand, his message glowing up at me like an accusation. We need to talk about Friday.How long had he been standing there? Since before Damian bumped into me? Had he watched the entire thing—watched me freeze up, watched Damian invite me to the lake, watched me almost combust on the spot?The thought made my face go hot in a way that had nothing to do with embarrassment about Damian.I told myself I wasn’t going to the gym. I told myself I was going to walk straight to the parking lot, find Rose, and pretend none of this had happened.My feet, as always, had other plans.The gym was darker than usual, the golden lights dimmed to a low amber glow, like someone had switched off half the bulbs on purpose. Aaron was sitting on the bottom bleacher this time instead of leaning against them, elbows on his knees, watching the door like he’d been count

LEON’S POVThe line was quiet for a moment after I answered.Not dead quiet—I could hear him breathing, could hear something faint in the background, like wind, like he was outside somewhere. But he didn’t say anything, and I didn’t say anything, and for about five seconds we just existed in that silence together like two people standing on opposite sides of a door neither of us wanted to open first.“You called me,” I said finally.“I’m aware.”“So—”“I saw what you typed.” His voice was low, unhurried, but there was something underneath it, something coiled tight that didn’t match the casual delivery. “Before I called. The message you didn’t send.”My stomach dropped. “That’s not possible. I didn’t send it.”“I know you didn’t send it.” A pause. “I just know you, Leon.”The way he said my name again—that same careful weight from the gym—made my throat close up a little.“That’s a creepy thing to say,” I managed.“Probably.” He didn’t sound sorry about it. “Where are you?”I looked a

LEON’S POVI answered on the first ring this time.No deliberating. No standing on the pavement counting my heartbeats. Just my thumb hitting the green button before the rest of me had a chance to vote on it.Silence again. But different from before. This one had texture—I could hear Aaron breathing, could hear Damian’s presence somewhere behind him, a distant shuffle like he’d stepped into another room to give them space, and I wondered what Aaron’s face looked like right now, standing in someone else’s house holding someone else’s phone after saying something he couldn’t take back.“You took his phone,” I said.“He offered.” A pause. “Technically.”“Aaron.”“Don’t.”“I’m not—I’m not doing anything, I just said your name.”“I know how you say my name, Leon.” His voice was low, rough around the edges in a way it never was during the gym sessions, all that careful control worn down to something rawer underneath. “You always say it like you’re about to ask me something I’m not ready to

LEON'S POVI stared at the photo until my eyes went dry.Then I put my phone face down on my bed, stared at the ceiling for thirty seconds, picked it back up, and stared at it again.Same face. Same cold eyes. Same hand on Aaron's shoulder like a claim.I went to Damian's profile and scrolled back through the tagged photos methodically, the way I did research for a story when I needed to build a timeline. Three posts. The most recent one from two weeks ago—a group shot at what looked like someone's backyard party, the stranger at the edge of the frame again, half turned away from the camera like he wasn't interested in being seen.The second one from a month ago. A basketball court, casual, the stranger mid-laugh at something off-camera, more relaxed, more present.The third one older, maybe two months back. This time he was front and center, arm slung around Damian's shoulders, grinning at the camera with the easy confidence of someone who knew exactly how they looked.No tags on any