The Unwanted Pact With My Enemy

Vesper stepped back instantly. Her shoulder blades hit the cold tile wall behind her.

"What do you want?" she asked, her voice tight.

Slade's smirk vanished. He reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and tapped the screen a few times. He turned it around and held it out to her.

Vesper squinted. It was a blurry, low-resolution photo of a wooden sculpture. It depicted a delicate rose enclosed in a glass-like wooden dome, with a semi-abstract figure of the Little Prince kneeling beside it.

"I need a custom piece," Slade said, his tone entirely serious now. He shifted his weight, looking almost defensive for a fraction of a second. "I'm going to use it to ask a girl to the Winter Formal next month. And before you say anything, this one is different. Normal stuff doesn't work on her. She thinks I'm just some dumb jock who expects everyone to fall at his feet. I need to prove her wrong, and handing her some store-bought garbage isn't going to cut it."

Vesper stared at the screen, her mind struggling to process the request. "Why?"

Slade rubbed the back of his neck, looking away for a split second. "I don't care how long it takes," Slade said, his eyes snapping back to hers. "If you have it done before the Formal, I will sit on that stupid stool in your studio for the rest of the semester."

Vesper did the math in her head. Sixty hours of lost sleep versus keeping her scholarship and avoiding the NCAA nightmare.

She looked up at him. She extended her right hand. "Deal."

Slade looked at her hand for a second before wrapping his large fingers around hers. His palm was hot. Too hot. The heat burned against her calloused skin, sending a strange jolt up her arm.

They dropped their hands quickly.

"Give me your number," Slade said, pulling up his contacts. "I need to know you're actually working on it."

Vesper rattled off her digits. She watched as he typed Angry Sculptor into his phone.

She rolled her eyes, pulled out her own phone, and saved his number as Bankrupt ATM.

"See you in class," Slade said. He turned and walked away, his heavy footsteps echoing down the hall.

Vesper let out a long, shaky breath. The tension drained from her muscles, leaving her exhausted.

She walked out of the arena. Light snow had begun to fall, the icy flakes melting against her hot cheeks.

When she finally pushed open the door to her dorm room, the lights were dim.

Rowan was sitting on her bed, staring at her phone screen with a massive, goofy smile on her face.

"What's so funny?" Vesper asked, shrugging off her heavy coat.

Rowan jumped. She instantly locked her phone and shoved it under her pillow. "Nothing! Just a stupid dog video."

Vesper frowned. Rowan looked flushed and panicked, but Vesper was too physically drained to interrogate her.

She walked over to her desk and clicked on her small brass reading lamp. She pulled out her thick sketchbook and a graphite pencil.

She started sketching the rose. The curves of the petals flowed easily onto the paper.

As she shaded the Little Prince, her mind drifted to Julian. She imagined carving something this beautiful for him. Would he look at her the way he looked at his textbooks-with that gentle, focused attention?

She shook her head violently. She needed to focus on Slade's order.

Vesper kept drawing. The scratch of the pencil was the only sound in the room. She worked until her vision blurred, eventually resting her head on the desk and falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.