Patricia Newman strutted through the halls of Washington D.C. International like it was her runway—heels clicking, hair bouncing, eyes sharp. Normally, the attention she drew was flattering, expected. But today the glances were different. Not admiration. Not envy. Something else. A ripple of whispers chased behind her, and with every pair of eyes that lingered too long, her stomach sank.
What the hell is going on?
Beside her, Tylee scrolled through her phone, lips twisting with unease. "Uh… Patty, you're trending. Sort of." She turned the screen.
Patricia's chest tightened as her eyes landed on the text flashing across a group chat.
R. Alexander. R. Alexander + Patricia. Step-sibs?
Her heart dropped, then spiked in fury. "What—?!" The sound tore out of her throat before she could stop it, raw and high-pitched. Heads turned.
Before she could unravel in public, a hand shot out, firm fingers curling around her wrist, yanking her into the shadow of an empty classroom.
"The hell—?!" she screeched, slamming against the door as it clicked shut. She ripped her wrist free and spun around, eyes blazing. "Get your filthy hands off me!"
Alexander.
He leaned back against the wall, composed as ever, dark eyes steady on her. "Would you shut up? You want the whole school to hear you screaming about it?"
Patricia's stomach twisted with disgust. "Oh my freaking God—it's you." Her words dripped venom. "What are you doing here? Why drag me like some—some—"
"Because you were about to make a scene," Alexander cut in coolly. His voice was quiet, but sharp enough to slice her fury in half.
She folded her arms tight against her chest, pacing in quick strides. "Did you tell people? Did you tell them we're—" She gagged on the word. "Step-siblings?"
His jaw flexed, but his expression stayed maddeningly calm. "No. Why would I? Do you think I want this out?"
That gave her pause. For a heartbeat, relief pricked through her anger—only to be swallowed again by rage. "Good. Because the thought alone makes me sick."
"Trust me." He shoved his hands into his pockets, leaning back like this was all mildly annoying. "You're not the only one disgusted."
Patricia's pacing quickened, her heels tapping sharp against the floor. Inside, though, her chest ached with humiliation. Step-siblings. If this sticks, what will Xavier think? Will people laugh at her? Call her desperate? Call her secondhand?
Her head snapped toward Alexander. "So how did it get out?"
"Maybe ask yourself that," he said lazily. "I told no one outside the guys. They wouldn't leak it. What about you?"
Patricia's throat went dry. "Only Megan and Tylee," she muttered, too quick, too defensive.
Alexander's brow arched. "Megan and Tylee." He repeated their names like weights being tested in his mouth. "Sound like the type to keep secrets?"
The answer slammed into Patricia like ice water. Camella. Camella with her fake smiles and sharp tongue. Of course.
Patricia's nails dug crescents into her palms as her face darkened. Fury boiled in her chest, hotter than embarrassment. If Megan thought she could humiliate her, she had another thing coming.
Alexander watched her silently, his lips twitching—not quite a smirk, but close. He didn't need to say what he was thinking. She was predictable. Furious. Dangerous when cornered.
Patricia tossed her hair back, masking her storm with venomous poise. "Fine. If Camella wants war, she'll get it."
The library was wrapped in its usual hush, broken only by the occasional squeak of chairs and the soft thud of books being shut. Shafts of afternoon sunlight cut through the blinds, striping the long tables with warm gold.
At the far edge, Alexander sat with a book propped open in front of him, though it was clear from the way his eyes glazed over the page that he wasn't reading. His fingers tapped against the table in an uneven rhythm, betraying a storm he otherwise kept locked behind his calm expression.
Kamsi hesitated a step, notebook clutched to her chest. He looked so unlike his usual composed self that curiosity tugged her forward. She slid into the seat across from him.
"Hey," she whispered, mindful of the silence. "Mind if I sit?"
Alexander didn't look up right away. When he finally did, his voice came low and flat. "It's a library. Everyone gets a seat."
Kamsi smiled faintly, settling down. For a moment, she watched him—the tight line of his jaw, the restless flick of his fingers against the table. "You look… distracted," she said lightly.
A humorless chuckle slipped from him. "Distracted's one word for it. Book's open, mind's gone."
Her brows drew together. "Is it true then? The rumors?"
His gaze flicked to hers, sharp, before drifting away again. "That I'm about to have Patricia Newman for a stepsister?" His tone was clipped, almost mocking. "Yeah. Seems I'm cursed."
Kamsi's lips twitched before she could stop herself, a small laugh bubbling out. He sighed, dragging a hand through his hair.
"It's unbearable," he admitted, softer now. "Part of me wants to shove her right out of my life. But if I do that…" His voice faltered. "It'll break my dad. And he doesn't deserve that."
Kamsi leaned forward, her voice cautious. "I've never seen you this… worked up."
"Don't get used to it," Alexander muttered, though his eyes betrayed the weight pressing on him.
She hesitated, then spoke carefully, like she was figuring it out as she went. "But… maybe it's not about choosing between you and him. He hasn't dated in years, right? And you were the one who pushed him to try again. If you sabotage this…" She winced slightly at the word. "It'll crush him. Maybe instead of pretending you're fine, you should talk to him. Be honest. He might surprise you."
Silence stretched between them. Alexander studied her, expression unreadable, then a faint smirk curved his lips.
"Wow, Kam. Didn't know you had a therapist side. Usually, I'm the one giving lectures."
She laughed, cheeks warming. "Guess the tables turned."
"They did," he said, and for once his voice lost its usual edge. "You really helped. You're… a good person." His gaze lingered on her, steady, almost too long. Then came the quiet dagger: "Xavier better hold you tight."
Kamsi blinked, caught off guard. The words hummed with something she couldn't quite name, but before she could press, Alexander had already leaned back, flipping his book closed.
"So," she said quickly, brushing the strange moment aside, "what are you reading?"
"Nothing worth remembering," he muttered with a dry smile.
The library's silence settled around them again, but Kamsi couldn't shake the faint, unsettled weight of his earlier words.