All Chapters of More Than a Campus Fling: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

She hummed softly, eyes darting across the options, her brows knitting in thought. “I’ll have the same thing he’s having.” She passed the tablet back.The waiter nodded. “Alright, your orders will be with you in a minute.” He disappeared into the rhythm of the restaurant.Time stretched. Thirty minutes later, plates gleamed with risotto, and the wine glowed ruby in crystal glasses. Conversation flowed between bites, their voices low.“You’re really chilled. I like that,” Lily said, her fork pausing midair. “I was worried for a minute while I waited. Thought you might have bailed on me. Tell me more about yourself.” She took another bite, her eyes flicking up.Tony’s gaze didn’t waver. He stared right into her eye. “What do you wanna know?”Her breath caught, a cough escaping as she nearly choked. She laughed softly, shaking her head. “Don’t look at me like that. Your eyes make me nervous.”“Do they?” Tony leaned closer, his presence pressing into her space. His fingers brushed lightly

The Following Day.The early morning light filtered through the thin curtains of my childhood bedroom, painting faint streaks across the walls. I lay there staring up at the ceiling, my body heavy, my mind restless. It’s Thanksgiving. I should feel warmth, joy, anticipation. Instead, I feel dread. I stretched softly, a yawn escaping my throat. My eyes blinked against the dim light as I pushed myself upright, sitting on the bed. My hand rubbed gently across my eyes, trying to wipe away the heaviness that clung to me. My arm reached toward the small lamp on the nightstand. A single press, and the bulb flickered to life, flooding the room with warm light. I squinted, turning my head away, the brightness too sudden. My fingers found my phone beside me. The screen woke at my touch. “6:48,” I muttered, reading the time before dropping it back onto the bed. I stretched again, another yawn slipping through my lips, quieter this time. And then the memories from last night surged back

The Following Day. TONY’S POV.Tony stepped out of the glass penthouse, the morning sun spilling across the driveway where his navy‑blue Escalade‑V and black McLaren W1 gleamed under the light. A white vintage shirt clung to him, expensive fabric catching the breeze as he moved with deliberate ease. His eyes lingered briefly on the McLaren before shifting to the Escalade. A flick of his wrist, the driver’s door swung open, and he slid inside. The V8 engine roared to life, vibrating through the cabin. His grip tightened on the wheel as he pulled out of the driveway, asphalt stretching ahead, the woods fading behind him. ---An hour later, the Escalade rolled into the parking lot of Motorcycle Shop. Tony parked, the engine silencing with a low hum. He stepped out, his slide hitting the pavement softly, sunglasses perched above his brow. His stride was confident, unhurried, commanding attention as he entered the shop. The receptionist at the front counter stood immediately, her pro

MINUTES LATER.The notification sound of my phone jolted me, sharp against the silence that now engulfed the room. I lay face up in bed, the phone beside me. My hand reached for it, the screen lighting instantly. My lips moved softly as I whispered the words of the email response I had just received from the VC’s office: “Okay Ms. Stone, I’ll begin with the arrangement to have people come over to your dorm now. Just provide the following information. Your dormitory name and room number, they’ll be there in less than an hour.”I typed quickly, fingers trembling faintly as I entered the name of my dorm and room number. With one tap, the send button glowed, and it was gone. I then sat up, my gaze shifting across the room. Sarah and Cynthia remained seated on Sarah’s bed, their eyes locked on me. The tension from earlier still hung heavy— thick, unbroken.I turned away, rose from my bed, and began to pack. My closet door creaked softly as I pulled it open, sliding clothes from hangers

A WEEK LATER. TONY’S POV. Noir Hotel and Suites. 10PM.Blue light washed over the private VIP room at Noir Hotel and Suites, shadows flickering across the polished table where Tony sat with Marcus and Jerry. Plates of food lay half‑finished, bottles of alcohol scattered, and at the center of the room a naked stripper twisted around the pole, her body moving to the slow rhythm of the music. Marcus leaned back into the plush couch he sat on, his eyes narrowing as he spoke. “So is that bitch still at your place?” Tony’s lips curved faintly, but the smile hardened into a frown almost instantly. “She is.” “And you allow that?” Marcus pressed, his tone sharp. “Not that I allow it,” Tony muttered, his jaw tightening. “My dad makes me. He’s hell‑bent that we’re perceived by the public as the perfect couple. He’s even arranged dates and events for us, spread out for months throughout her pregnancy, with the media there to capture it all for the world to see.” “What?” Marcus whisper