Nothing Personal

06. affluent heirs with questionable morals

WILLOW STIFLED A sneeze into her elbow, shivering despite the warmth of her jacket. She groaned, her mind fixed solely on Isaac. She couldn't wait to strangle him—he gave her a cold. The cold had crept into her bones overnight, leaving her miserable and aching.

She fumbled through her bag and ripped open the packet, swallowing paracetamol and hoping its effects would take hold before the period ended.

No such luck. The soft hum of computers surrounded them, punctuated by the occasional click of a mouse. Willow's focus remained unbroken, her attention fixed on the lines of code scrolling across the screen, a language she understood better than spoken words. Halfway through the lecture on programming languages, she felt a telltale tickle rise in her nasal passages. Snatching a tissue just in time, she turned away from her monitor to muffle a sneeze, scrunching her eyes shut against the discomfort.

"Bless you." Alexander's voice sounded quietly at her shoulder, accompanied by the rustle of a paper bag. "Here, I brought you some soup from the dining hall. It looks like you could use it."

Willow looked up with a grateful smile. She accepted the thermos gratefully, her fingers brushing against his in the exchange. He took a subtle breath to steady himself. "Thanks, Alex. You always know what I need."

His eyes softened as he gazed down at her, lingering fingers brushing the hair from her forehead. "How are you feeling?" he asked gently, his palm pressing against her skin to feel her temperature. Willow sighed unconsciously at his comforting touch.

"A little better now," she murmured, leaning into his hand.

Willow focused on sipping the broth, missing Alexander's eyes following her lips. He noted the flush returning to her pale cheeks with relief. "Let me know if you need anything else," he said, tone low. "And don't push yourself too hard. Okay?"

Her eyes crinkled at the sides as she smiled, nodding in response.

"Promise?" he hummed.

Willow smiled fondly. "Cross my heart and all that."

She shifted her eyes to the front of the class but could not when she felt eyes boring on the side of her cheek. She glanced around, scanning the class, and noticed Isaac Forbes stealing glances in her direction. His dark eyes lingered on her despite her urging glare. "Stop," she mouthed to me. Isaac, unfazed, mouthed back a defiant "no." Willow rolled her eyes, choosing to ignore the boy's persistence.

After a chatter about programming, the lunch bell tolled. Footsteps filled the room as everyone stood to their feet, shuffling to get to the dining hall. Willow stood and began packing up reluctantly. But Alexander shouldered her bag before she could protest. "C'mon, I'll walk you to the dining hall."

"Alex, I'm fine, really," she halfheartedly protested as she trailed behind her friend. "I can hold my bag."

Alexander casually draped an arm along Willow's back. "Of course, you are fine."

Willow couldn't help but smile. He always knew what to do—one reason he became such a trusted friend. She was lucky to have found him at Ascot. Now, Alexander was on her list of people for her to hurt. Oh, how her life was funny.

As they approached the crowded dining hall, the cacophony of voices and clattering trays assaulted her senses. In the corner, Nadia waved them over, bearing a second thermos that Willow suspected held more broth.

"Heard you're feeling rotten," she greeted, pressing the flask into worried hands. "This should help, hopefully."

"Thanks," Willow said. Nadia nodded and shifted her gaze to the tray in front of her. She played with the scraps of vegetables, nibbling on them before resting them on the tray. Her friend didn't wear her usual sunny smile. Dark brows pinched troubled eyes. "Is everything alright, Nads? You are quiet today."