Chapter 117: the rumour nobody expected

Chapter 117 — The Rumor Nobody Expected

On Monday morning, Isla vanished into her paperwork before the first bell, so Roxanne ate breakfast with Tessa and a plate of toast she barely noticed. Her phone sat beside her cup. Twice it buzzed, and twice she glanced at it and felt the corner of her mouth lift.

Tessa watched her over the rim of her tea. "What happened?"

"Nothing happened."

"You’re smiling at your phone."

"I smile at things."

"You smile at your phone when somebody has said something ridiculous. You did it for Liam all through the play, and you did it just now." Tessa set her cup down. "So who was it?"

Roxanne opened her mouth. Before she could invent anything, a girl from the year below appeared at the end of the table, hands clasped, wearing the face of someone delivering news she had been rehearsing.

"Sorry to interrupt. I only wondered whether it’s true that Lucien Moonstone has started taking girls into town privately."

The table went quiet. Roxanne felt Tessa’s gaze slide sideways. So someone had seen them.

"Is having coffee with someone a crime now?" Roxanne asked.

"No," the girl said quickly. "But with Lucien Moonstone? People tend to notice."

Roxanne gave her a flat look. "Then people should find a hobby."

The girl retreated, and Tessa let out a long, slow breath. "Coffee, was it?"

"Tea. And a market. And a bookshop."

"I’m going to need the whole story at lunch."

"There isn’t a story."

"There is always a story," said Tessa, and went back to her toast.

At lunch, though, it was not Tessa who found her first. Roxanne had just sat down in the dining hall when a shadow fell across the table, and she looked up at a tall senior with glossy dark hair pinned perfectly in place and a council badge on her lapel.

"Roxanne Silver? Vivienne Hart. We haven’t met properly."

"I know who you are." Roxanne had seen her at assemblies, reading notices in a voice like polished glass.

"I work with Lucien on student council matters." Vivienne sat down opposite without being asked, folding her hands. She was not hostile. That was almost worse. Her tone was cool and courteous, the tone of someone who had done her reading. "I wondered whether he invited you into town for a particular reason."

"We went because we wanted to."

Vivienne waited for more. Roxanne offered nothing. She had learned long ago that an explanation given to someone who had not earned it was only a gift.

"You aren’t going to tell me why?" Vivienne asked.

"There isn’t a why. It was an afternoon."

For the first time, Vivienne looked slightly surprised. People generally tried to impress her, Roxanne suspected, or justify themselves, and neither had occurred to Roxanne. "Lucien rarely makes time for anyone without a purpose," Vivienne said. "I’ve known him for four years, and I can count the exceptions."

"Perhaps he should be allowed a life outside his duties."

Vivienne’s eyebrows lifted. She said nothing for a moment, then rose smoothly, smoothing her skirt. "Perhaps. Thank you for your time."

She walked away, and Tessa, who had been silent through all of it, whispered, "I think she respected you. I also think she hated it."

Late that afternoon, Roxanne took a borrowed reference book to the student council office. It was a narrow room above the east stair, and the door stood ajar. She had her hand raised to knock when she heard voices.

"There is a concern," Vivienne was saying, clearly and evenly. "Some students may interpret your recent behaviour as favouritism."

"My personal time is not a council matter." Lucien’s voice was calm and absolutely final.

"Everything you do is a council matter. You are who you are. A choice that would be private for anyone else becomes a statement when you make it."

"Then the statement is that I took an afternoon off."

"Lucien—"

"That is all, Vivienne."

Roxanne stood very still in the corridor. She understood, in that moment, that this was not simply gossip. Vivienne genuinely believed that Lucien’s position turned every private decision into something public. It was a heavy way to live, and Roxanne found she did not want to be one more weight on it.

She did not knock. She stepped quietly inside, set the book on the corner of the desk by the door where nobody was looking, and slipped out again. Through the gap she saw Lucien turn his head, saw his eyes catch her retreating shoulder. He started toward the door, but another student hurried in with a stack of papers and a question, and by the time he had answered it, the corridor was empty.

He found her in the courtyard an hour later, sitting on the edge of the dry fountain with her bag between her feet.

"You left," he said. "Without saying hello."

"You were busy."

"I was not too busy to say hello."

Roxanne turned the strap of her bag over in her hands. "I don’t want our friendship to become a political problem. People already question my place here. I don’t need to give them another reason."

"You are not responsible for other people’s assumptions."

"I know. And I’m not going to pretend I barely know you just to make your life easier."

He looked at her for a moment, as though weighing the words carefully. "I never asked you to pretend we aren’t friends."

"You didn’t have to. People are already deciding what that afternoon meant."

"And what did it mean to you?"

She hesitated. The courtyard was quiet, the light turning amber on the old stones. "That I enjoyed spending time with you."

"Then I don’t see the problem."

His answer was so simple that it silenced her. He said it as if it were obvious, as if it cost nothing, and Roxanne sat there thinking how easily he spoke what she was still trying to put into words. Eventually he nodded once, as though the matter were settled, and left her with the fading light.

She found Vivienne alone the next afternoon, standing outside the council office with a ledger pressed to her chest. Roxanne had not planned to speak to her, but Vivienne turned and saw her, and neither of them could pretend otherwise.

"I wasn’t trying to embarrass you at lunch," Vivienne said. Her voice had lost some of its polish. "I should say that."

"It felt a little like an interview."

"I know." Vivienne looked at the ledger. "I’ve spent years watching Lucien take on the work other people avoid. He never complains. If students think he’s neglecting them, they will say so loudly and not kindly, and he’ll absorb it as he always does. I worry about that. More than I probably should."

Roxanne understood it, even if she disliked how Vivienne had gone about it. "I see that. But Lucien is capable of deciding how to spend his own time. He doesn’t need us deciding for him."

"Perhaps not." Vivienne’s mouth tightened, then softened a little. She did not apologise outright. She did not seem to know how. But she inclined her head, and there was something close to respect in it. "Good afternoon, Roxanne."

"Good afternoon."

They parted without becoming friends. But as Roxanne walked away, she felt that something had shifted, a door left unlocked rather than closed.

That evening, she came back to the dorm and found Isla surrounded by forms, her hair tied up with a pencil. A cup of cold tea sat forgotten at her elbow.

"How’s it going?" Roxanne asked.

"Better. I’ve filled in almost everything I can." Isla rubbed her eyes. "I still need my parents to agree to look at the alternatives before I can submit anything. But they’ve said the family meeting can happen next weekend."

"That’s good."

"It’s something."

"If you want to talk afterwards, I’ll listen. Or sit in silence. Whichever."

"Thank you." Isla smiled, then tilted her head. "Can I ask something nosy?"

"You usually do."

"Does Lucien’s invitation mean anything?"

Roxanne considered the question honestly. "I don’t know yet."

"That’s allowed, you know," Isla said gently. "Not knowing."

Roxanne nodded and picked up her toothbrush.

Later, as she settled under her blanket, her phone buzzed on the nightstand. She picked it up.

*Next time, you choose where we go.*

She smiled and typed: *Next time, you’re not allowed to check the time every ten minutes.*

The reply came almost at once. *Agreed. But you’re choosing the place.*

Roxanne set the phone down and lay looking at the ceiling, amused and a little startled by how much she wanted there to be a next time.