Paige shrugged, tossing her towel aside. "I guess. It's just the kind of shit rich people get away with. Money makes everything okay, right? Your family isn't any different, is it?"
Dick looked at her, a little surprised. "I didn't know my family was well-known as well. And that you dig about me."
Paige almost laughed, shaking her head. "Please. Your last name is famous enough in the circle. And it's nothing special. Your father fucks maids, secretaries, innocent fresh workers who fall into his company, while your step-mother fucks David Trent, which your father is fully aware of because he profits from it. Your bitchy step-mother gets more money to spend, and it's all one twisted circle."
Dick felt the bite in her words. "You don't like Clara?"
Paige almost spat, the venom in her voice thick. "Home-wrecker, yeah, I hate the bitch."
Dick's brow furrowed. Paige never held back her opinions, but the pure hatred in her tone was surprising. "She wrecked your family?"
Paige's expression tightened, a flicker of something darker crossing her features. She sat back on the bench, arms crossed, her jaw clenched. "She didn't wreck mine," she said, her voice low and tense. "My best friend is Sarah Trent, well O'Sullivan now."
Dick understood immediately. Sarah O'Sullivan. Of course. David Trent's daughter. Clara probably ruined Sarah's mother's marriage, but if she was anything like Rebecca, she was stuck in that sham of a life, forced to endure it while Sarah watched her mother wilt under the pressure. Hopefully she was stronger than Rebecca was, and left the bastard.
Paige didn't need to explain further. He could see the strain in her face, the raw resentment she carried toward his stepmother. Paige might not have been directly affected by Clara's games, but watching someone you care about get torn apart was enough. Dick knew the feeling all too well. His entire life had been watching the Morgans play their sick power games, each one pulling strings for their own benefit.
Paige exhaled, the tension in her posture easing slightly. "I was there, you know. Saw how it happened." She glanced up, her eyes hard but focused. "Clara wormed her way into their lives, just like she does with everyone. Sarah's mom, Margaret, was one of those women who seemed to have it all—perfect family, successful husband, the works. Then Clara showed up."
Dick didn't say anything, just nodded for her to continue. He'd seen the way Clara operated firsthand, but hearing it from someone else gave it a new layer. He wasn't surprised though. She was ruthless.
"She wasn't even subtle about it," Paige continued, her voice sharper now. "Sarah's mom started noticing things—little things at first. Text messages late at night, business trips that didn't add up. Then she found out Clara was involved. And instead of leaving, David just... let it happen."
Dick leaned against the squat rack, listening. The way Paige spoke, it was like she was reliving it, each word dripping with disgust. It was personal for her.
"And Sarah? She tried to keep it together, for her mom's sake. But you could see it was killing her." Paige ran a hand through her hair, shaking her head slightly. "That's when we got close. She needed someone, and I wasn't going to let her go through that alone."
Dick frowned. It all lined up. Clara had played a part in destroying Sarah's family, just like she'd manipulated her way into his father's life. And the worst part? No one ever stopped her.
"Sarah must've hated her," he said quietly.
Paige laughed bitterly, her tone sharp. "Hated? Sarah used to talk about killing her in her sleep."
Dick chuckled, "We should create a club or something. We all hate that bitch." His voice was light, almost mocking, but Paige didn't laugh. She just shook her head, eyes narrowing with the weight of her own bitterness.
"Honestly? Not a bad idea. I'd be the first member," she muttered, dropping the dumbbells onto the mat with a solid thud. "If it weren't for her, maybe Sarah's family wouldn't have fallen apart."
Dick nodded, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. "Clara's good at what she does. Destroys people from the inside without even blinking."
Paige scoffed, stretching her arms over her head. "Yeah, and the worst part? People like that, they never seem to get what they deserve."
Dick's smirk returned, though it was sharper now, more calculated. "They will. Eventually. People like Clara make enemies everywhere they go. It's only a matter of time before someone takes her down."
Paige glanced at him, the intensity in her gaze faltering for just a second before she let out a breath. "I hope you're right. For Sarah's sake, if nothing else."
After coaching Paige for a while longer, Dick pushed through his own workout. His leg and shoulder day was brutal, but he welcomed the burn. Dick hit the showers, washing the pain with the cold water. As he stepped out of the gym, he spotted Paige leaning against her car, arms crossed, sunglasses perched on her head. It wasn't the flashy kind of ride that screamed privilege, but it was sleek, expensive. Black, clean lines, the kind of car that turned heads without being too obvious about it. A Mercedes C-Class.
She looked up as he approached, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "You sure know how to keep a girl waiting."
"Didn't know I was expected," Dick shot back, glancing at her car. "What's this? My chariot?"
Paige rolled her eyes, pushing off the car with a flick of her wrist. "I figured you'd need a ride to your next class. Or did you plan on running there with those jelly legs?"
Dick chuckled, feeling the dull ache in his quads. "I could've made it."
"Sure," Paige said, not buying it for a second. She opened the driver door, motioning for him to get in from the other side. "Come on. I'm not letting you limp across campus just to prove a point."
He shrugged. It wasn't like he had time to argue, and besides, a ride would save him the hassle of rushing back in the heat. He slid into the passenger seat.
Paige slid in beside him, starting the car with a smooth hum of the engine. "Where to, hotshot?"
Dick checked his phone. "Biology."
Paige nodded, pulling out of the parking lot with a smooth turn. As they merged into traffic, Paige went through her playlist, filling the silence with some pop song that Dick barely registered.
"You know," Paige started, glancing at him from the corner of her eye, "this college has a few campuses. Some are further than others. You might need a ride more often than you think. Girls don't like to walk."
Dick smirked. "You offering?"
She raised an eyebrow, lips curling into a sly grin. "Maybe. But I'm not your chauffeur."
"You'd look cute in a little hat."
"Don't push it," she shot back, though there was amusement in her tone.
As they pulled up to the science building, Paige slowed to a stop, her fingers drumming idly on the steering wheel. "So," she said, not looking at him, "you gonna owe me for this? Or is it one of those 'don't mention it' situations?"
Dick glanced at her, a lazy smile tugging at his lips. "Depends. What do you want in return?"
She shrugged, feigning nonchalance, but there was something behind her eyes. "I'll think of something."
He nodded, opening the door and stepping out. "I'm sure you will."
Paige didn't bother with a goodbye, just revved the engine and took off, leaving Dick standing on the curb with a smirk still on his face. She was unpredictable, and he liked that. His first impression of her had been bad, but after today's talk, he glimpsed her honest emotions, and he had to admit, he felt disgusted at the thought of trying anything dark with her, like he did with his family. For now, he decided to keep things simple—just friends. Friends with benefits, maybe, but without any manipulation. She'd been through enough of that.
He shrugged off the thought and made his way inside the building. Biology wasn't exactly his favorite subject, but it wasn't the worst either. The lecture hall was already filling up when he arrived. The professor—a short, balding man with glasses that seemed too big for his face—was setting up at the front, mumbling to himself as he shuffled papers. The class didn't seem too difficult, at least from the syllabus he'd skimmed earlier.
A few minutes later, the door creaked open, and a girl slipped into the room, looking flustered. Her backpack was slung over one shoulder, her hair a wild mess, like she'd sprinted across campus. She scanned the room, clearly looking for a place to sit. Dick watched as her gaze swept past him, then flicked back. For a second, their eyes met, and she hesitated before dropping into the seat next to him.
"Hey," she said breathlessly, digging through her bag for a notebook. "Sorry, is this seat taken?"
"Go ahead," Dick replied, offering a casual smile.
She nodded, not really paying attention as she finally found her notebook and slammed it onto the desk, letting out a relieved sigh. "Made it just in time," she muttered, more to herself than him.
Dick glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. She wasn't like the girls he was used to. No designer clothes, no perfectly styled hair. Just an oversized hoodie and jeans, her face free of makeup, giving her a kind of natural, unpolished look. She seemed like the type who kept to herself, a loner, maybe.
Class started, and Dick half-listened to the professor's monotone lecture on cell structures, letting his mind wander. The girl next to him was scribbling furiously in her notebook, her handwriting messy but fast. Every now and then, she'd glance up at the board, then back down, like she was trying to absorb as much information as possible.
When the lecture finally ended, she let out a heavy sigh, closing her notebook with a loud thud. "God, that was brutal," she muttered, leaning back in her chair.
Dick smirked. "Yeah, not exactly a thrill ride."
She glanced at him, surprised he'd spoken. For a second, she seemed unsure how to respond, but then she smiled, a little awkward but genuine. "You're telling me. I didn't think bio could be this boring."
He shrugged. "Depends on the professor, I guess. This one seems like he's been dead inside for a while."
The girl chuckled, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. "Yeah, you're not wrong."
They packed up in silence for a moment before she hesitated, looking like she was debating something. Finally, she held out her hand, her smile a little more confident now. "I'm Naomi, by the way."
Dick shook her hand, keeping his grip firm but not overbearing. "Dick."
"Nice to meet you, Dick," Naomi said, slinging her backpack over her shoulder. "You, uh, mind if I sit next to you next time? I'm trying to keep up, and you seem like you've got your shit together."
He raised an eyebrow, amused. "Sure. But I'm not guaranteeing I'll be any better at this than you."
She laughed again, a little more freely this time. "Fair enough. See you around?"
"Yeah," Dick said, watching her as she left the room.
As he stepped out of the building, Dick checked his phone. A message from Lana popped up.
Lana: "Hey, can we talk again? Soon?"
Dick stared at the screen for a second before typing a quick reply.
Dick: "No."
Leaving the building, Dick mulled over what Paige had said. A car would make his life a hell of a lot easier. Between juggling the gym, classes, and whatever else came his way, relying on rides or public transport was becoming a pain. But the reality was simple—he didn't have the cash for it.