Chapter 3: The Awkward Dinner

Rose's Pov:

The cold, sterile atmosphere of the detention room seemed to close in on me, but my mind was a storm of chaos. I couldn't shake the image of him—the new guy. There was something in the way he held himself, something too familiar. He was the type of person whose past clung to him like a shadow, one that I knew all too well. It wasn’t just the rough edges or the distant, haunted look in his eyes; it was that feeling in my gut, a primal instinct warning me that something wasn’t right. Was I overreacting? Or was I just still reeling from everything that had happened today?

The whisper of Parker's voice echoed in my head—something about a former student returning. Was he talking about Ryder? Was this the guy? The very name made my insides churn. Why couldn’t the past just stay where it belonged? Why did it always find a way to creep back into my present?

Before I could spiral further into my own thoughts, I heard the voice of my professor, his tone flat and impersonal.

"Rose... your time is up."

I snapped back to reality, rising from the desk with a heavy heart, my thoughts still tangled in the unknown. As I reached for the door, his voice cut through the silence like a blade.

"Rose..."

I turned back to him, my brow furrowing in confusion.

"Yes, sir?" I replied, my voice carrying an edge I hadn’t meant to let slip.

"Please... make more of an effort if you want to pass this semester. I know your father would want you to."

His words struck a chord deep within me. I was still reeling from the weight of the past, from the memories of my father’s expectations—expectations I had never asked for. But I shook it off, unwilling to let the tension hang in the air any longer. I nodded curtly, then made my way out of the room.

My head was a jumble of frustrations as I walked to the parking lot, the rush of anger still boiling beneath my skin. My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out to find a message from my mother. She needed to have that serious conversation she'd mentioned earlier today.

I shoved my phone back into my pocket and grabbed my keys with a force that bordered on reckless. The anger was consuming me, and with it came a dangerous thought: I despise him. Ryder, this new guy with his secrets, his dangerous aura, he was going to learn quickly that I wouldn’t be intimidated. I was going to make sure his high school life would be a living hell.

Starting now.

Ten minutes later:

I parked my bike in the garage, the engine still humming as I slid off and walked toward the house. My mother sat perched on a bar stool by the kitchen, her back to me until she heard the door open.

I didn’t speak as I slid open the sliding door, then made my way to the kettle, setting it on the stove with deliberate movements. I needed something to focus on, something to keep me grounded. The tension between us was thick, and I could feel the weight of her unspoken words pressing down on me.

Turning, I faced her. “So... what did you want to tell me?” My brow furrowed, unease creeping in. She had been off lately, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

For a long moment, she fidgeted, her fingers nervously picking at the fabric of her skirt. She wasn’t the kind of person who showed vulnerability easily.

“Mum, are you okay?” I asked, my voice softening.

Her eyes flickered up to meet mine, her lips trembling slightly before she spoke.

"I have a fiancé."

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I froze, my breath catching in my throat. “What? When? How?”

“It’s a long story,” she replied, her voice distant. “One I don’t know how you’re going to react to.”

My mind spun as I tried to process this new revelation. She had never mentioned anyone before. And now, out of nowhere, she was engaged?

“For argument’s sake, I’ll keep an open mind,” I muttered, tapping my fingers on the counter in a desperate attempt to steady myself. I needed to hear this out, even if I didn’t want to.

I poured the boiling water into two cups, the steam swirling in the air like the tension that was building between us. But before I could even finish, she dropped a bombshell that shattered any semblance of calm I had left.

"I was having an affair... but so was your father."

The jug nearly slipped from my hands. My heart lurched in my chest. "I... What?" I gasped, struggling to comprehend the weight of her words. "Did you just say you and Dad were having affairs behind each other's backs?"

She nodded, her eyes closing in shame.

I turned away, fighting to control the surge of anger and betrayal. My fingers curled into fists, gripping the countertop as I tried to hold myself together. Today was Dad’s anniversary, and this... this was the last thing I needed. My mind raced through the fragments of my past—the arguments, the secrets, the lies I’d always felt lingering just beneath the surface.

“Be honest with me,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “Were your arguments... both about the affairs? Was that why you and Dad were planning to divorce?”

She met my gaze, disappointment flashing across her face. “Yes,” she admitted, her voice tinged with regret. “We weren’t happy. You fall out of love sometimes, and when you do, you can’t help it. You’ll learn one day, when you’re older. You’re lucky if it doesn’t happen to you.”

I couldn’t breathe. My whole world seemed to shatter in that moment, the illusion of stability I'd held onto crumbling before my eyes. How could they lie to me for so long?

"I need time to think about this," I said, my voice shaking with a mix of anger and confusion.

“I understand,” she replied, offering me a small, sad smile. “We’ll talk when you’re ready.”

I placed her cup of tea gently in front of her, then took mine and walked upstairs, the weight of her words following me like a shadow. I needed to forget, to escape. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake the feeling that everything in my life was changing—falling apart—and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

Two Years Ago:

The fire crackled softly, its warmth fighting against the chill in the air. I nestled deeper into the quilt, feeling the familiar, comforting weight of Jace’s arms around me. But something shifted.

“Don’t even think about it, Roselle,” Jace’s voice sliced through the haze of my thoughts, his eyes suddenly sharp on me.

I froze, a cold knot forming in my stomach. “Please, Jace... don’t—” I started, but his grip tightened just enough to make me pause.

“Look at me.” His voice softened, a vulnerability I hadn’t heard before. “I’m not going to hurt you. You can trust me.”

The words sent a shiver through me, but I wasn’t sure if it was fear or something else.

"I’m not afraid... I’m just scared of the situation," I whispered, my eyes darting around, looking for an escape.

His hand cupped my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. “How about a deal?” he proposed, his tone lighter now.

I blinked in confusion. “A deal?”

"On weekends... you stay at your parents’ or friends’ places. I’ll keep you safe. I swear." His smile was tentative, but sincere.

A glimmer of hope stirred within me, and for a moment, I thought maybe, just maybe, things could work out. "Really?" I asked, my voice shaky.

He nodded, his smile mirroring my own. But as I returned his gaze, I couldn’t help but wonder if I was just fooling myself, hoping for something that was never meant to be.

Present one hour later:

The evening had already begun to cast shadows across the room as I sat on my bed, scrolling mindlessly through my phone. The clock struck six in the afternoon when I heard voices drifting upstairs from the floor below. "Who the hell is here at this time?" I muttered to myself, confusion painting my thoughts.

I immediately dismissed the thought of it being the girls. They were on curfew, far too busy facing the consequences of their prank on Jake’s house—the graffiti disaster that still had me chuckling at the image of his father storming out, veins popping, while we watched from across the street. That had been a moment of pure entertainment.

Then I overheard my mother’s voice. "Hey, she’s upstairs, she might not be prepared. I didn’t get the chance to mention you were coming over for dinner," she said, her voice muffled but clear enough to make my brow furrow.

Dinner? That’s when a strange thought entered my mind. What if I just slipped out the front door, unnoticed, before the evening got too... uncomfortable?

I swung my legs off the bed, slid into my sneakers, and opened the door with the quietest creak possible. Stepping out, I made my way downstairs, dodging the creaks in the floorboards. The kitchen light flickered on, and my mother’s humming barely reached my ears. The moment felt liberating, like I had the upper hand.

"Goodbye," I whispered to myself, a grin spreading across my face as I neared the front door. The cool evening breeze was calling me, freedom in every gust.

But then, as I reached the threshold, I turned to find someone standing there—a figure so out of place, I nearly choked on my own surprise. "You!!" I snapped, heart racing.

He looked at me with an infuriatingly calm smile, slipping his phone into his pocket. "What are you doing here, petals?" he asked, voice dripping with casual arrogance.

I stood frozen, barely registering the words. "I live here. Get out of my house! You’re trespassing!" My voice rose in fury. This was insane.

His eyes widened for just a second, but then he leaned back and smirked, eyes gleaming with an unsettling promise. "Looks like we’re going to be getting well acquainted."

The boldness of his words hit me like a cold slap. I wanted to scream, but instead, a sick realization washed over me. "No... no, no, NO way..." I stammered, my brain struggling to comprehend. This couldn’t be happening. He was talking about meeting his stepmother and stepsister. My mother’s fiancé. That meant...

He was my soon-to-be stepbrother.

Before I could process any further, my mother walked into the hall. "I see you two have already met. Rose, Ryder," she said, eyes flicking between us with that hopeful, naive smile.

"Is this some sick joke, Mum?" I blurted, unable to contain my disgust.

"Is something wrong?" My mother’s voice cracked as she glanced back and forth, noticing the tension simmering between us.

"He—he tried to hit on me at school today. Without my consent," I snapped, pointing an accusing finger at Ryder.

My mother’s face froze in shock. "Pardon?" she asked, her eyes wide in disbelief.

Ryder, however, smirked, leaning back casually against the wall. "Wrong. She kissed me back," he said, his smirk deepening.

I clenched my fists, jaw tightening. My mother, clearly uncomfortable, raised her hands defensively. "We’ll deal with this after dinner. Rose, please, for now—just keep your fists to yourself."

I glared at her, barely containing my rage. "Why do I have to sit here and pretend everything’s normal?" I snapped, my voice sharp.

"Because it’s family, Rose," she said with a sigh.

I folded my arms, standing my ground. "Fine." My voice dripped with sarcasm.

I took a deep breath, knowing that my best move was to stay calm for now. But inside, a storm was raging. My mind flashed to my cousins—the mortified looks they’d give me when I spilled this.

I made my way to the table, my mind racing. I was texting Clay, venting to him about this entire fiasco when Ryder grabbed my phone from my hands. His smile was maddening, almost smug. "Who you texting, petals?" His voice dripped with that cocky confidence.

"Give it back, Ryder!" I shouted, annoyance flaring in my chest.

He ignored me, his eyes scanning my texts like it was his right. "Having a gossip fest about me, huh? I’m flattered," he chuckled, clearly enjoying himself.

I clenched my jaw, fighting the impulse to smack that smirk off his face. But then, an idea hit me. A horrible, reckless idea.

Without thinking, I swung my leg over and sat down on his lap, grabbing my phone back. As I realized I hadn’t gotten off yet, my heart dropped. I was stuck, wedged between him and the table.

My breath hitched when I felt him stiffen beneath me. I tried to move, but his hands shot to my waist, holding me firmly in place. His smirk was unbearable. "We’ve got to have dinner, Rose. If you want to stay modest, you’d better get off, or you’ll end up on the floor like in mathematics."

My face burned as I tried to pull away. I glanced up at the doorway. Ryder’s father and my mother were standing there, frozen. My stomach churned.

"Jesus Christ," I muttered under my breath. This was beyond embarrassing.

I quickly pulled away, sitting in the chair, my face on fire. "Well, Mum," I said, clearing my throat, trying to ignore Ryder’s smug expression, "are we going to eat?"

My mother’s hands shook as she placed the plates down. "Yeah... sure," she stammered.

Ryder’s fake manners grated on me as he looked at my mother. "Thanks, Mrs. Hamilton," he said with too much charm.

"Just call me Linda, Ryder," she said with a smile that was too forced to be real.

I kept my head low, eyes fixed on my plate. Ryder’s dad turned toward me with a knowing glint in his eyes. "So, Rose, I hear you’re in Ryder’s math class," he said, his voice too smooth.

"Yeah, we had an interesting lesson," I said, my tone as flat as I could manage.

His lips curled up as he glanced at Ryder’s busted lip, and I knew he was thinking about the fight from earlier. "Looks like a memorable one," he commented.

I forced myself to smile, despite the heavy discomfort in my chest. "So, what should I call you?" I asked, turning my gaze to Ryder’s dad. The whole situation felt like a bad dream.

"Just call me Nigel," he said, his voice rich with authority.

"Right," I muttered, forcing a smile.

"So, Rose," Nigel continued, his voice still probing, "what classes are you majoring in?"

I felt a headache coming on. "This feels like an interrogation," I replied dryly.

"Rose, manners!" My mother snapped, shooting me a warning look.

I rolled my eyes, suppressing the urge to snap back.

"Just getting to know my future stepdaughter," Nigel said, and I could feel the weight of his words settling in like lead. My mother started asking Ryder the same questions about his previous schools, but I couldn’t focus on the conversation anymore. My thoughts were clouded with anger. And then it happened.

I felt his hand on my thigh.

The sensation made my stomach twist with unease. I clenched my knife and fork so hard I thought I might snap them. "Stop it," I hissed under my breath.

Ryder only smirked in response, his hand creeping up further.

"Are you okay, Rose?" My mother’s voice was a mixture of concern and suspicion. She was looking back and forth between us, sensing something was off.

I forced a smile, masking the fury bubbling inside me. "Just tired, Mum. All that schoolwork gets to me," I lied, glaring at Ryder.

My mother nodded, but Ryder wasn’t done. His hand slid up again, and I jerked it off, my grip tight around his wrist.

"I’m trying to eat here!" I growled, but he didn’t care. He was enjoying this far too much.

In a whisper, Ryder leaned close to my ear, his words sending a shiver down my spine. "Don’t worry, I’ll have you in my bed in no time."

The thought of it repulsed me. If he wasn’t such a damn playboy, I might actually be intrigued by the idea, but with him? Hell no.

"Just stop," I begged through gritted teeth, but he didn’t relent.

My mother, oblivious to what was really happening, asked again, "Are you sure you’re okay?"

"Yeah, I’m fine," I lied, my voice strained. "Just a bit hot, that’s all."

I couldn’t take it anymore. I was done.

Without another word, I stood up, excused myself, and fled up the stairs, slamming the door behind me and locking it before Ryder could follow.

I needed space. I needed to be alone.

But of course, ten minutes later, there was a knock on my door.

"What?" I called, frustration lacing my voice.

"It’s Ryder," came the smug response.

I rolled over on my bed, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach. "Go away," I muttered into my pillow.

But he wouldn’t. He never would.

"We need to talk about what happened at dinner," he called from the other side of the door. "Don’t worry, it’s not like I’m gonna bite... much."

I groaned, wanting nothing more than to be left in peace. But I knew that wasn’t going to happen.

With a reluctant sigh, I rose from the bed, unlocked the door, and pulled it open.

"Well?" I snapped, trying to keep my voice steady.

Ryder didn’t waste a second. He pushed the door open and practically shoved me back against it. His gaze was electric, intense, filled with an almost predatory lust.

And in that moment, I realized—my life was never going to be the same from this moment forward.