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He shrugged. “The fights. That’s how my uncle’s paying for school. Gracie wanted Demere, I wanted Gracie to have what she wants. So Dalton runs the Pit, and I fight for him and help make it happen. It’s not exactly the same. He’s not an asshole like your father. But… I don’t have a lot of choice either. And I’d have done a lot to give Grace a safety net just in case something happened and I couldn’t keep providing this for her.”

The news that he was doing the fights for his sister, for the two of them to get an education, rocked me just as much as Vaughn realizing I might have deserved the fellowship seemed to have rocked him.

We hadn’t known each other at all, and it was clear we’d assumed the worst of each other from the very beginning. I hated that. Hated thinking of all the time I’d wasted thinking he wasn’t worth my time.

I also hated thinking of him having to put himself in harm’s way just so Grace could go to her dream school. It made me want to put my arms around him or maybe take his place in the ring one night so he could just fucking rest for once.

“Fuck, Vaughn.” I didn’t even know what to say.

He scratched his neck before meeting my eyes again. “Why are you living in the dorm instead of with your friends?”

I thought about how much to tell him, but before I could figure out where to start, he asked, “Is it because of the bar fight?”

“You heard about that, huh?” It wasn’t surprising, since the whole world had probably read the headlines, but I hated the idea of him believing what they’d said about me.

“Yeah, I did.” He looked me squarely in the eye. “I heard you were defending a guy from a homophobe.”

My jaw dropped. “How did you⁠—?”

“Rowan. She knows shit.”

“I see.” My chin lifted, almost against my will. “How nice for her.”

A smile ghosted across his face, like my helpless jealousy amused him. But it disappeared quickly. “Why doesn’t everyone know the truth? Because of your dad?”

At this point, I would have chosen to live here with him regardless of what my bank account said, but I wasn’t going to admit that.

“Yes. The fight was bad press for his campaign, and worse because of who I was defending, so he paid people off to keep the details quiet. He uses money to control me, like I said. I step out of line, he cuts me off. Easy-peasy. No money for rent, I have to live on my scholarship. Maybe a miserable and desperate son will be more agreeable to his father. Will realize what he’s done.” I said that last bit in my best impression of my father’s stern voice.

Anger narrowed his eyes. “And you don’t have any money of your own? From a summer job or whatever?”

I sat up and stretched my back. My legs were already stiff from holding myself so tightly that I forced myself to stretch them out, too. “I worked two law internships over the summer. The Hawthorne one was paid, the other was volunteer. The internship money’s gone, though. I was an idiot and splurged on a tattoo before I realized he was going to cut me off. Then rideshares, food, law school applications—all that shit. I thought about getting a part-time job this semester, but I literally don’t have time. I barely sleep as it is.”

I slithered off the bed onto the ground and began stretching my hamstrings, partly because I needed to but also because it helped having an excuse not to look at the expression on his face when I confirmed what a spoiled asshole I truly was.

He didn’t say anything for a few minutes, but for some reason, the silence wasn’t awkward or tense. If he thought I was a privileged asshole… well, he wasn’t wrong. And there was nothing I could do to change it that I wasn’t already trying to do.

“So you weren’t kidding about needing money at the fight.”

I shook my head.

This time, when he spoke, his voice was softer, but somehow much more serious. “I need you to stay away from the Pit, Bett.”

The sound of my name in his voice made my stomach tighten. “Why?”

He moved down behind me, spreading his long legs around my hips and putting his strong hands to work rubbing the muscles of my shoulders. “Because I said so. Now, can we talk about something else, please? Like… about how you’ve been making my fucking dick hard with all of that ridiculous stretching?”

I groaned at the release of knotted muscles I didn’t even realize were tight, dropping my chin to my chest. “Whatever you want, as long as you keep doing that.”

Things between us felt oddly… cordial. As if we’d set aside our animosity and were communicating like actual human beings for once.

His lips came down to drag across the top of my spine as his fingers snuck under my shirt and splayed across my abs. “I think these stretches would be more effective if you weren’t hindered by all these clothes.”

I leaned back against him, letting his larger body hold my weight as his movements went straight to my cock. “Maybe you should take them off me,” I suggested, already hearing the breathy sounds of my own excitement.

“Maybe you should keep them on, and I’ll make you come in your pants like a horny teenager.”

The smile in his voice was like a drug. It made me feel floaty and giddy.