Chapter 65: Registered Officially

NORA’S POV

The black SUV idled outside my dorm. The engine hummed, and streetlights cast shadows inside the car.

Knox’s dark eyes held mine, his raspy question still hanging between us in the quiet air: When I called you my girlfriend in front of the entire board... you didn’t deny it.

My heart raced, pounding against my ribs. I pulled his jacket tighter around my shoulders, feeling its warmth against my chilled skin. I looked into his eyes and kept my voice steady.

"It was part of the deal, Sheridan," I said softly. "We were playing the room. So... I didn’t mind it."

A slow smile tugged at the corner of Knox’s lips. The hard, defensive armor he carried everywhere melted away, replaced by a quiet warmth in his eyes.

He leaned in half an inch closer, his voice dropping into a low, raspy rumble. "Did you not mind it because we were playing the room, Bennett... or because you actually didn’t mind?"

My pulse fluttered, but I didn’t let my expression waver for a single second.

"I didn’t mind because it wiped that smug look off Harold Orwell’s face," I countered, raising an eyebrow with a cool tilt of my head. "And right now, I mind having sticky cabernet drying against my collarbones."

Knox let out a low, rough chuckle, shaking his head as the tension broke. "Deflection. Classic Bookworm."

"Self-preservation, Sheridan," I corrected.

"Come on," Knox murmured, gesturing toward the front. "Let’s get you out of that cold wine dress."

Instead of dropping me at the dorm steps, Knox had the driver take us straight to the SinBin team house.

The large brick house was ablaze with warm lights. When we pushed through the front door into the kitchen, the smell of buttered popcorn and toast filled the air.

Bear was sitting on a wooden stool at the kitchen island with a giant bowl of cereal, while Milo lounged on the sofa with a tablet.

Bear looked up, his jaw dropping when he took in the sight of Knox in an unbuttoned dress shirt and me wrapped in Knox’s oversized black suit jacket.

"What in the world happened to you two?" Bear asked, setting his spoon down with a clatter.

"High-society dinner at the Grand Harbor Club," Knox grunted, resting his hands on the counter. "Vanessa Orwell threw a tantrum and spilled a full glass of cabernet."

"Classic Vanessa," Milo muttered from the couch, shaking his head.

Bear immediately stood up, his massive six-foot-five frame moving down the hall toward the laundry room. He returned ten seconds later holding a clean, plush Briar Athletics hoodie.

"Here, Nora," Bear said kindly, handing it over. "It’s clean. Go change out of that cold, sticky dress before you catch pneumonia."

"Thanks, Bear," I said with a grateful smile.

I took the hoodie into the downstairs guest bathroom, peeling off Priya’s ruined navy dress, dabbing my skin clean, and pulling the oversized purple hoodie over my head. It swallowed me whole, smelling cleanly of fresh laundry detergent.

When I walked upstairs to return Knox’s suit jacket, his bedroom door was slightly ajar.

Knox was sitting on the edge of his mattress in a black t-shirt and gray track pants. He was struggling with a roll of white athletic tape, trying to wrap the bruised knuckles on his right hand that had swollen slightly after his board collision during Friday’s game against State.

I knocked lightly on the doorframe. "Need a hand with that?"

Knox looked up, his gaze softening as he held out the roll of tape. "You’re better at precision than I am, Bookworm."

I walked in, sitting beside him on the edge of the mattress. I took his large, calloused hand into my lap, holding his long fingers gently as I began wrapping the white tape around his bruised knuckles with clean, measured pressure.

Knox watched my hands quietly, his breathing slow and steady.

"Standing at that table tonight," Knox murmured in a low, gravelly voice. "With you by my side... it was the first time in my entire life I felt like I was in control of my own future. Not my father. Not the trustees. Just me."

I smoothed the final edge of the tape over his knuckles, then looked up into his eyes.

"You don’t need his approval, Knox," I said firmly. "You never did. You earned your spot on this ice with your own skill."

Knox didn’t reply with words.

He reached out, his warm thumb gently tracing my cheekbone in a fleeting, tender touch that sent a shiver straight down my spine before he let his hand drop.

"Get some rest, Bennett," he murmured softly. "I’ll drive you to your dorm."

—

Monday morning arrived with brilliant golden sunshine spilling across the brick paths of Briar University.

I walked up the stone steps of the Athletic Administration building for my routine weekly compliance check with AD Pierce, carrying Knox’s mid-term study log and visual charts neatly organized inside my folder.

AD Pierce was sitting behind his wide mahogany desk, his gold-rimmed reading glasses perched on his nose as he reviewed my submitted paperwork.

"Knox’s microeconomics grade is officially up to a solid B," AD Pierce said, looking up with an impressed nod as he stamped the paperwork with athletic compliance approval. "Considering where he started the semester, this is remarkable academic progress, Nora."

"He puts in the work," I replied smoothly. "He just needed the concepts translated into a system that made sense to him."

AD Pierce leaned back in his leather chair, opening a side drawer and pulling out a thick blue administrative folder. He slid it across the desk toward me.

"There is an important update to his official student file that I believe you need to know about as his primary tutor," Pierce explained.

I opened the blue folder, expecting standard course paperwork.

Instead, resting right at the front was an official, confidential document stamped by the University’s Academic Disability and Access Board.

My eyes scanned the lines in stunned disbelief.

It was a formal registration form for a diagnosed spatial-visual processing difference (dyslexia/ADHD).

My gaze dropped to the date at the bottom. It had been signed just over a week ago, right after our late-afternoon conversation at the lake overlook.

Knox had voluntarily walked into the administration building, swallowed every ounce of his massive athletic pride, and officially registered his learning profile with the university.

Because of that registration, my tutoring contract had been elevated to an official university honors placement, securing my work-study stipend bonus and placing my position under full academic protection.

I stared at Knox’s bold, familiar signature at the bottom of the form.

"I-I already knew about his spatial-visual learning style," I said softly, looking up at AD Pierce. "Hence the visual chart and oral methods I’ve been using with him."

"Yes, but he registered it officially," Pierce said with an approving nod. "Specifically so your tutoring work would receive formal university honors credit, compensation bonuses, and institutional protection. He wanted to make sure your academic record and financial aid were completely shielded from any outside interference."

A tight, overwhelming warmth bloomed in my chest as I closed the folder. Knox hadn’t told me a single word about it. He had quietly protected my future without asking for credit or praise.

I walked out of the Athletic Administration building into the morning air, descending the wide stone steps into the sunlit plaza.

My heart was beating with a sudden, restless energy. I pulled my phone from my coat pocket, unlocking the screen to text Knox... to ask where he was, or simply to tell him that I knew what he had done for me.

I opened my messaging app.

And right beneath Knox’s name on my recent conversations list, a single notification caught my eye: Drew Miller.

My thumb froze, hovering in mid-air over the glowing glass screen as the memory of last night’s delivery flashed vividly through my mind... the fresh bouquet of white daisies sitting on my desk, the box of Kingston bakery chocolates, and Drew’s handwritten apology card tucked into my top dresser drawer.

I stared down at the two names sitting side by side on my screen and clicked on one.