Chapter 81: You Did The Work

KNOX’S POV

The tiered lecture hall in Briar Academic Hall was silent, except for the sound of a hundred and fifty pens scratching and the ticking of the wall clock.

10:42 AM.

I sat in the third row, gripping my pen, my arm resting on the desk with the twelve-page macroeconomics exam laying in front of me.

In any other semester, a test like this would have looked like pure, scrambled static. The numbers would have blurred across the white paper, mocking me, daring me to guess between four equally confusing options until my brain shut down from exhaustion.

My father had spent eighteen years telling me I was too dense for anything that didn’t involve ice and a piece of rubber.

But as I looked down at Question Thirty-Four... a multi-variable scenario combining interest rate shocks with foreign exchange depreciation... the static was completely gone.

In its place were Nora’s whiteboards.

I could see her neat handwriting mapping out the curves in bright blue marker. I could see the hockey rink diagrams she had drawn for me in Study Room 4C... the central bank executing a tactical breakout pass through the neutral zone to control the money supply.

And more than anything, I could hear her bossy, beautiful voice whispering right in my ear: Trust the system, Cap. Don’t overthink the physics. It’s leverage.

A slow smirk tugged at the corner of my lips.

I bent over the paper, uncapped my pen, and began writing out the equations as best as I could.

By eleven-forty, I reached the final page.

I answered the last scenario on fiscal stimulus multipliers, reviewed my calculations twice, and closed the booklet.

I stood up from the wooden desk, stretching my broad shoulders as several freshmen looked up from their tests with wide, panicked eyes.

I walked down the concrete aisle, set my exam booklet squarely on Professor Vance’s front podium, and nodded.

Vance pushed his wire-rimmed glasses up his nose, looking from the thick booklet up to my face with genuine surprise. "Finished already, Sheridan?"

"Finished, Professor," I replied calmly.

"Very well," Vance nodded slowly. "The department will process the Scantrons and essay sections tomorrow morning. Official grades will be finalized and posted to your student portals by Wednesday noon before the reading break."

"Understood."

I grabbed my duffel, pushed through the heavy wooden double doors, and stepped out into the autumn morning.

The air smelled of damp pine and woodsmoke; my chest felt light, and the suffocating pressure of academic probation wasn’t pressing on my shoulders for some reasons.

I pulled my phone from my pocket, ready to text Nora, but stopped myself.

See you at the finish line, Bookworm.

I smiled, slipping the phone away, and headed toward the rink for afternoon practice.

—

By Wednesday at twelve o’clock, the athletic center players’ lounge was packed.

Bear was sprawled across the leather sectional eating a massive chicken wrap, while Jake and Milo were arguing over fantasy football rankings near the ping-pong table.

I sat at the high-top counter, tapping my fingers rhythmically against the wooden surface, staring at the glowing screen of my phone.

12:04 PM.

Suddenly, a bright blue banner notification dropped down from the top of the screen:

BRIAR ACADEMIC PORTAL: ECON 201 MIDTERM GRADES POSTED.

My heart slammed against my ribs like a slapshot off the post.

I took a slow breath, my thumb hovering over the glass before I tapped the link.

The university portal loaded.

I scrolled past the syllabus section down to the midterm evaluation box.

STUDENT: Sheridan, Knox

COURSE: ECON 201 — Macroeconomic Principles

EXAM: Fall Midterm Examination

SCORE: 81 / 100 (B-)

STATUS: PASSED — ACADEMIC STANDING CLEARED

I stared at the screen until the numbers burned into my retinas.

Eighty-one freaking percent.

Not a scraping fifty-nine, or a mercy D-minus handed out to keep a booster happy but an actual, legitimate B-minus.

A loud, breathless laugh broke from my chest.

Bear looked up from his wrap, narrowing his eyes. "Yo, Cap? What’s that look on your face?"

Without saying a word, I turned my phone around and shoved the screen in his direction.

Bear squinted at the numbers. Then his jaw dropped so wide a piece of lettuce fell onto his chest.

"HOLY SHIT!" Bear roared, throwing his wrap onto the table and jumping up from the couch. "EIGHTY-ONE PERCENT! THE CAPTAIN GOT A B!"

"NO FUCKING WAY!" Milo screamed, dropping his ping-pong paddle and diving across the leather sofa.

Jake grabbed me in a suffocating headlock, shaking my shoulders as the entire room erupted into deafening cheers and locker-room howls.

"EIGHTY-ONE!" Jake yelled. "THE PROFESSOR DIDN’T EVEN CURVE IT!"

The lounge door pushed open, and Coach Brennan stepped inside, clutching a clipboard under his arm.

The room instantly quieted down, though everyone was still grinning ear to ear.

Brennan looked from the team over to me. His sharp, weathered eyes held a rare glint of genuine pride.

"Dean’s office just called my desk, Knox," Brennan’s deep voice carried through the lounge. "Your midterm grade officially clears you for the remainder of the season. Harold Orwell’s compliance complaint has been formally dismissed with prejudice."

Brennan walked up to the high-top counter, clamping a hand over my shoulder in a firm grip.

"You did the work, Captain," Brennan said quietly. "Keep your head in the game."

"Thanks, Coach," I nodded, feeling a swell of fierce, earned pride deep in my chest.

Brennan gave my shoulder one last squeeze and walked out of the lounge.

The guys started making plans to celebrate at the campus pub, but my mind was already three blocks away.

I grabbed my jacket off the back of the stool, shoved my phone into my pocket, and headed straight for the doors.

"Hey, Knox! Where are you going?" Bear yelled after me.

"I’ve got business to handle," I called over my shoulder.

I grabbed my jacket off the back of the stool, headed straight for the exit, and pulled out my phone as I pushed through the athletic center glass doors into the afternoon air.

My fingers flew across the screen as I typed out a quick message:

Knox: Where are you, Bookworm? Check your portal.

Two seconds later, three little gray dots danced on the screen.

Nora: Just walked out of the student union café with a coffee. Did the scores drop?! Tell me you checked!

A grin broke across my face.

I pocketed the phone and jogged across the campus pathways, cutting through the central quad straight toward the student union transit concourse.

I spotted her immediately.

Nora was standing near the brick columns outside the transit lobby, wearing a dark navy wool coat with her chestnut curls falling softly around her shoulders. She held a steaming paper coffee cup in both hands, her canvas duffel bag resting on the pavement by her boots.

She looked small, beautiful, and completely out of place among the bustling crowd of traveling students.

I didn’t slow down; I closed the distance in five long strides.

"Bennett!" I called out.

Nora turned her head. When her hazel eyes locked onto mine, a bright, questioning smile broke across her face.

"Knox? What happened? Did the portal..."

Before she could finish the sentence, I stepped into her space, hooked my large hands around her waist, and lifted her clean off the concrete pavement.

"Knox!" Nora gasped, her hands flying to my shoulders to steady herself as her coffee cup sloshed.

I spun her around once, pulling her flush against my chest as a loud, triumphant laugh tore from my throat.

"Eighty-one percent, Nora!" I rasped, looking up into her glowing face. "Eighty-one! A legitimate B-minus!"

Nora’s hazel eyes went wide with pure joy.

"Eighty-one?" she beamed, her hands tightening against the fabric of my jacket as she looked down at me. "Knox, that’s amazing! You passed! You actually passed!"

"We passed," I corrected softly, slowly lowering her feet back to the pavement, though my hands lingered around her slender waist for one long, electric second before I forced myself to step back. "I saw your hockey diagrams on every single question. You saved my life, Nora."

"You did the work, Sheridan," Nora smiled softly, a faint pink blush creeping up her cheeks. "I just drew the lines."

"Come on," I said, reaching for her hand. "I’m taking you to the steakhouse across town. Porterhouse steaks and whatever dessert you want. My treat."

Nora’s smile faltered slightly, her gaze dropping to the heavy duffel bag at her feet.

"I... I can’t, Knox," she said gently, looking up at me with an apologetic expression. "My bus to Oakhaven leaves in fifteen minutes. I promised Mom I’d be home for the four-day reading break."

A sudden, sharp ache hit my chest, catching me completely off guard.

Four days.

Four entire days without seeing her across a library table. Without her bossy voice correcting my formulas. Without the sweet scent of vanilla and cinnamon that had completely invaded my thoughts for the last three weeks.

I looked at the canvas bag, then back at her face.

Without saying a word, I reached down, grabbed the heavy duffel by its strap, and slung it effortlessly over my shoulder.

"Then I’m walking you to your bus," I said.

We walked side by side down the paved path toward Transit Bay 3, where the large silver-and-blue coach bus was idling with its luggage compartments open.

The cool autumn wind rustled the dry leaves along the curb, blowing a stray curl across Nora’s cheek.

I watched her from the corner of my eye.

She was quiet, her small fingers tucked deep into the pockets of her navy coat. There was an unfamiliar tension in her posture, a quiet distance that hadn’t been there when I lifted her two minutes ago.

We reached the front boarding door of the bus where students were handing their tickets to the driver, filing up the narrow steps into the cabin.

I set her heavy duffel bag down beside the luggage rack, then turned to face her.

Nora looked up at me, clutching her small backpack against her chest.

"Thank you, Knox," she murmured softly, her hazel eyes searching mine with a look I couldn’t quite decipher. "For carrying the bag... and for the coffee yesterday. And congratulations on the eighty-one. You really deserved it."

"Nora," I said, my voice dropping into a low, gravelly rumble.

I stepped closer, closing the remaining foot of distance between us.

I raised my right hand, my large, calloused fingers gently cupping the warm side of her neck, my thumb brushing the soft skin of her jawline.

Nora’s breath hitched in her throat, her pupils dilating as she froze in my grip.

The heat radiating off her skin burned right into my palm, sending an electric jolt straight through my chest.

I leaned down until my lips were inches from her ear, breathing in the intoxicating scent of her hair.

"Four days, Bennett," I whispered, trying to hold myself back from asking her to stay. "Don’t stay away too long... I don’t like playing on ice when you’re not in the rink."

Nora stared at me, her chest heaving softly.

"Next passenger for Oakhaven!" the bus driver called out from the door.

Nora blinked, breaking the spell. She swallowed hard, giving me one last, breathless nod before turning and climbing the bus steps.

I stood on the concrete platform with my hands shoved deep into my jacket pockets, watching through the tinted glass as she found a window seat halfway down the aisle.

She looked out the window, her eyes locking onto mine as the heavy bus doors hissed shut.

The engine roared to life, and the coach slowly pulled out of the depot, turning onto the main highway toward Oakhaven.

I stood there on the empty platform under the gray autumn sky, watching the bus disappear around the bend.

A cold, hollow silence settled heavy in my chest, and for the first time since I stepped foot on this campus, Briar felt completely empty.