Chapter 185: gentlemen’s club I

Chapter 185: Chapter 185: gentlemen’s club I

Christopher sat back in the leather chair, one hand resting loosely around his glass as the conversation around him drifted from university politics to the upcoming Sports Festival.

The gentlemen’s club was quieter than most places students frequented.

That was precisely why he liked it.

There were no crowds, no loud music, no students shouting over one another. Just low conversation, the occasional clink of glass, and the soft sound of cards being shuffled at a nearby table.

His friends had been debating the university’s tournament regulations for nearly twenty minutes.

Christopher wasn’t particularly invested.

He listened anyway.

"Sixteen teams," Marcus said. "They’re going to have half the university fighting over those spots."

"That’s because everyone thinks they’re better than everyone else."

"That’s university."

Christopher smiled faintly.

A door opened behind them.

One of their friends entered, still looking amused about something.

He dropped into the empty chair.

"You won’t believe what I just heard."

Marcus glanced up.

"That usually means it’s something ridiculous."

"It’s about Blackwood."

Christopher looked up.

His friend leaned forward.

"Apparently, he walked Lady Beaumont to her club again."

Marcus raised an eyebrow.

"Again?"

"Yes. Again."

Another friend laughed.

"That’s the second time, isn’t it?"

"Exactly."

The newcomer pointed at them.

"I heard it from the girls in Political Governance. They’re clubmates with Lady Beaumont."

Christopher said nothing.

He listened.

"And this time?"

His friend grinned.

"He was carrying her bag."

A burst of laughter went around the table.

"You’re joking."

"I’m not."

"Lord Blackwood carried her bag?"

"All the way to the Literature Society."

Marcus shook his head.

"That’s bold."

"That’s not even the best part."

The newcomer leaned back, clearly enjoying himself.

"His next club activity is the Strategic Management Society."

Christopher’s eyebrows lifted slightly.

"That’s in the Business Building."

"Exactly."

"Which is on the other side of the university."

"Exactly."

The table erupted again.

"So he walked her all the way to Humanities..."

"And then had to cross the entire campus to get to his own club."

"With her bag."

"With her bag."

Someone whistled.

"That’s dedication."

Christopher remained quiet.

The laughter around him gradually faded into background noise.

He remembered Sunday.

Damian approaching almost immediately after Vivienne had exchanged numbers with him.

The way Damian has been watching him the rest of the week.

How aggressively competitive he was during the debate.

And now this.

Christopher leaned back in his chair.

So that was why.

He hadn’t paid much attention to the rumors before.

But taken together—

The staring.

The interruption on Sunday.

The strange tension.

And now, Damian carrying her bag.

The lastA detail made Christopher’s brows lift slightly.

It was difficult to call that meaningless.

Especially when Damian’s own afternoon club was nowhere near the Humanities Building.

So Damian had gone out of his way.

Christopher leaned back.

Perhaps Blackwood really did like her.

That would explain the attention he’d been receiving all week.

But Vivienne?

That was harder to determine.

She had approached Christopher herself on Sunday.

She’d continued their conversation afterward.

She had been waiting outside the Publication Society that afternoon, and the look on her face when she’d seen him had been difficult to misread.

She was interested.

At least, Christopher was fairly certain of that.

Whether she saw Damian as anything more than a friend was another matter.

He didn’t know.

And he wasn’t sure he wanted to involve himself in it.

If Damian liked her, that was Damian’s problem.

Christopher had no intention of turning himself into a participant in some university romance scandal.

He reached for his glass again.

Besides...

He barely knew Vivienne.

He was simply curious about her.

That was all.

At least, that was what he told himself.

The conversation around him shifted to something else.

Christopher listened, contributing occasionally when necessary.

His phone suddenly vibrated against the table.

Christopher glanced down.

His expression changed almost imperceptibly.

A new message.

From Vivienne.

--

(Vivienne POV)

By the time Vivienne returned to her dormitory, she was still smiling. Claire wasn’t back yet, so she’s by herself.

She had actually seen him again.

And, more importantly, he had seen her.

It was such a small thing.

A few words in a corridor.

A polite smile.

Nothing remotely romantic.

And yet she had spent the entire walk back replaying it in her head.

Lady Beaumont.

She pressed her lips together, trying not to smile again.

It was ridiculous.

She had only met Christopher in person twice.

Still, there was something about seeing him again that had made the attraction she’d felt on Sunday feel much more real.

She’d already known he was handsome.

Now she had a much clearer impression of him.

And those glasses—

Vivienne covered her face briefly.

Why did he look even better with glasses?

She dropped her hands.

She needed to calm down.

This was exactly how people behaved when they had a crush.

And apparently, she had one.

A very obvious one.

Vivienne changed into something more comfortable and sat on the edge of her bed.

Her phone lay beside her.

She glanced at it.

No new message.

She picked it up anyway.

Nothing.

She frowned faintly.

Christopher had said he was meeting friends after his club.

He was probably still with them.

She put the phone down.

A few seconds passed.

She picked it up again.

What was he doing now?

Was he still with his friends?

Had they already finished?

Where had they gone?

She stared at the conversation between them.

The last message was hers.

She’d told him she’d let him get to his club.

And then she’d gone and deliberately waited outside it.

Vivienne buried her face in her pillow.

Technically, she hadn’t lied.

It really had been a coincidence.

A carefully manufactured one.

She lifted her head.

No.

She wasn’t going to think about that.

Her eyes drifted back to her phone.

Should she text him?

She hesitated.

They had been messaging quite naturally throughout the day.

It wouldn’t be strange.

Right?

Vivienne smiled.

She picked up her phone and opened their conversation.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard.

How was your meeting with your friends?

She looked at the sentence.

That sounded normal.

Friendly.

Not too eager.

Perfect.

She sent it.

Then immediately stared at the screen.

Nothing.

Of course nothing.

He probably hadn’t even seen it.

Vivienne set the phone down and leaned back.

She waited.

A minute.

Then another.

She reached for it again.

Still nothing.

She sighed.

Maybe she should stop checking.

She placed it face down.

Then turned it over almost immediately.

Nothing.

"Ridiculous," she muttered to herself.

She wasn’t waiting for him.

She was simply—

Her phone vibrated.

Vivienne’s eyes widened.

She snatched it up.

Christopher.

She grinned.