Chapter 5 Sep 12, 2025 The morning after Apex arrived with a hangover I hadn't earned and doubts that settled in my chest like lead. I stirred my latte at our usual campus café table while Emma commanded her audience, transforming last night into mythology. "And then the DJ dropped that remix-you know, the one with the violins?-and I swear the entire floor lost their minds." Emma's hands flew through the air, conducting her story. "Ruby, back me up. That second set was insane." "Insane," I echoed, though I remembered nothing after Aiden's hand on my thigh. "Your dress was killer," Melissa added, leaning forward conspiratorially. "I saw at least three guys watching you when you went to the bar." "Only three?" Emma teased. "I counted five. Including that older guy in the corner booth who looked like-" "Ladies!" Alex's voice cut through the gossip like a blade. He materialized behind my chair, pressing his lips to my cheek with practiced possession. I leaned into it before I could help myself; the body remembers tenderness faster than the mind. "Discussing how amazing my fiancée looked last night?" The table erupted in synchronized cooing. "You two are so perfect together!" "Relationship goals!" "The way you look at her!" Alex pulled up a chair, his arm draping across my shoulders. "We've had our rough patch, but we're stronger for it. Right, baby?" "Right." The word tasted like ash. Emma's smile tightened at the corners, the only one who saw through the performance. "God, my head is killing me." Alex rubbed his temples dramatically. "I need grease, salt, and possibly an exorcism. Be right back." He kissed my cheek again-marking territory-before heading to the food counter. The table watched him go with collective sighs. "You're so lucky," Zoey Gray said, stirring her coffee. "Alex is gorgeous, rich, and completely obsessed with you." "Obsessed is one word for it," Emma muttered, earning her my grateful glance. "Speaking of gorgeous," Melissa pivoted with gossip-seeking precision, "did anyone else notice Professor Green at Strategy Lab the day before yesterday? That man should be illegal." My spine straightened involuntarily. "He's actually really cool," Zoey added, pulling out her phone. "Our project group has a messenger thread with him. He's hilarious-super sarcastic but not mean, you know? And he actually responds, unlike Professor Williams who takes three weeks to answer an email." "He hates email," another girl chimed in. "Says it's where good ideas go to die. Everything's real-time with him." "Show Ruby," Emma suggested, her eyes finding mine with knowing mischief. "She's in his class too." Jessica's phone landed in front of me, displaying a group chat filled with memes, strategy articles, and Aiden's rapid-fire responses to student questions. His profile photo was action itself-mid-lecture, marker in hand, that dangerous smile aimed at someone off-camera. "He's so much more relaxed in messenger," Zoey continued. "Like a real person instead of just a professor." "I sent him an email about citations yesterday," I said, arranging my face into frustration. "He never responded, and I really need his input for Monday's paper." "Oh, just message him directly!" Jessica grabbed her phone back, fingers flying. "He won't mind. He literally told us he prefers it. Here-" I wasn't hunting for a replacement for Alex-I was hunting for myself. The difference mattered, even if it wouldn't look like it. She held out her phone, Aiden's contact information glowing on the screen. My phone captured it quickly-Professor Aiden Green, with a small lightning bolt emoji after his name. "Thanks," I said, meaning it more than she could know. "You're a lifesaver." Alex returned, balancing a tray of food that screamed hangover cure-bacon, eggs, enough carbs to fuel a marathon. The table immediately fawned over his choices while I stared at the new contact in my phone. "What are you looking at?" Alex asked, his mouth full of bacon. "Class stuff." I locked my screen. "Citation format issues." "Boring." He turned back to his fan club, launching into a story about last night's VIP section. I opened the messenger, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. Professional. Academic. Safe. Yet. Me: Professor Green, this is Ruby Pearson. Sorry for the direct message, but I have a citation question about conflicting sources in my hostile takeover analysis. Would you mind taking a look? The email system seems to be failing me. Send. Three dots appeared immediately. Then disappeared. Then appeared again. Aiden : Miss Pearson. Happy to help. Email is indeed where academic dreams go to die. Send me the specifics. I typed quickly, aware of Alex's proximity. Me: Thank you. I wasn't sure if you minded students using your personal contact. Aiden : I actually prefer it. Faster than email, less formal than office hours. Plus, the memes are better. A second later, a short clip loaded-grainy dance-floor footage under a neon APEX sign: a couple attempted a spin, she nailed the tango beat while he flailed a half-second late. The caption read: "Apex dance floor: timing is everything." I bit my lip to suppress a laugh. "What's funny?" Alex's hand landed on my thigh, squeezing with false intimacy. "Emma sent me something stupid." I tilted my phone away from his view. "Our Emma, corrupting innocent Ruby with her law school humor," Emma said, playing along perfectly. "I should be ashamed." Another message from Aiden appeared. Aiden: Though your footwork at Apex last night suggested better timing than most. My pulse skyrocketed as I typed back. Me: I had an unexpected partner. Made things complicated. Aiden: Complicated can be interesting. Predictable is death in strategy. "Ruby's ignoring us for her phone," Melissa pouted. "That's so unlike you." "Sorry." I set it face down, but it vibrated immediately. "Someone's popular today," Alex observed, his tone sharpening. "It's about the group project." I stood, needing distance. "I should handle this. Be right back." I escaped to the café bathroom, locking the door before reading Aiden's latest message. Aiden: Your actual question about citations-was that real or an excuse for my contact info? I leaned against the sink, debating honesty versus safety. Me: Both. I do have a citation issue. I also wanted your number. Aiden : Dangerous admission, Miss Pearson. A knock rattled the door. "Ruby?" Alex's voice, tinged with suspicion. "You okay?" "Fine! Just a minute!" I splashed cold water on my face, and opened the door to find Alex waiting with crossed arms. "You were gone awhile." "Girl stuff," I said, brushing past him. "Nothing interesting."