Julian's POV
We were now at the Dean's office. I sat there, with my jaw tight, lip split, staring at the floor like it was the reason I was here.
Catherine was beside me, I noticed the way her hands trembled against her skirt. She looked small, fragile even, like someone who didn't belong anywhere near a fight.
On the other hand was Cole with his legs crossed and his hands behind his head, grinning like the whole damn situation amused him.
The Dean was pacing in front of us, red-faced and furious, his shoes clicking on the tiled floor. "You three! Care to explain why the front of the school looked like a damn boxing ring this afternoon?"
There was silence as none of us moved. Collins was enjoying the show and it pissed me off the most.
Catherine's fingers twisted together nervously, it seemed like she had never been in trouble. I kept my head down, biting my tongue hard enough to taste iron.
"Fine," the Dean snapped. "Collins, since you seem the most comfortable right now, why don't you start?"
Collins sat up, flashed that fake innocent smile of his, and leaned forward. "Sir, I was just talking to Julian. I'd only been back for a day and I was trying to make peace, you know? Then he suddenly got in my face. I thought we'd moved past our history, but I guess not."
I looked up. History. He was lying through his teeth, saying it was nothing, like he didn't nearly get me killed a year ago.
The Dean frowned. "So, you're saying Julian started it?"
"That's right, sir." Collins shrugged casually. "I didn't want any trouble, but he threw the first punch. I just defended myself."
Catherine shifted in her seat, and I could feel her nerves rising. "That's not true," she said quickly. "He provoked Julian—"
The Dean raised a hand, cutting her off. "Miss Brown, please. You're already involved enough as it is. You talk only when asked. Besides, you are not innocent either. You shouldn't have slapped him."
Catherine's face fell, color draining from her cheeks. She sank back into her seat, whispering something under her breath. I wanted to speak up for her, to say she was just trying to stop the fight, but I didn't. There was no point. I also didn't want it looking like I cared for her, before Cole would spin another narrative.
Meanwhile, Collins turned slightly toward her, that smirk still curling at his lips. "You hit hard, by the way," he muttered just loud enough for her and me to hear. "Bet those hands leave marks."
My fist clenched on instinct. He knew exactly what he was doing. He was trying to provoke me and dammit, it was working real good.
The Dean looked at me next. "Julian Vaughn," he said with that disappointed sigh teachers save for rich kids who should've 'known better.' "Your grandfather founded this school and your father's donations keep this school running, yet you keep finding yourself in fights. What's your excuse this time?"
I didn't answer. I could feel Collins' eyes on me, daring me to say something. He wanted me to explode again, to prove his story right. I just clenched my jaw and said nothing.
"Nothing to say?" the Dean pressed.
I shook my head once.
He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You're lucky, son. If this wasn't your first offense this year, I'd be calling your father right now. Detention for two weeks, and consider this your final warning."
Then his gaze swung to Catherine. "Miss Brown, you'll do two afternoons of community service in the library. Don't make me see you in here again."
She nodded quickly, murmuring, "Yes, sir."
Finally, the Dean turned back to Collins. "And you, Mr. Effron, since you just returned from a year-long suspension, I'll be blunt. One more mistake and you're out for good. Do you understand?"
Collins smiled, completely unbothered. "Crystal clear, sir."
"Good. You can all leave my office now."
We stood. Catherine kept her head down. I pushed my chair back and started for the door. Collins brushed past me on purpose, shoulder colliding with mine. He leaned in, low enough that only I could hear.
"Round one goes to me, golden boy. I have only just started."
He walked out, and began to whistle. Anger rose in my chest but I couldn't do anything, not here and definitely not now.
Catherine shot me a worried glance, but I didn't say a word. My blood was boiling, but I shoved it down. Losing it again would just prove him right.
Outside, the hallway felt colder than usual. Catherine followed me quietly as we made our way to the car.
Neither of us spoke on the drive home. She kept sneaking glances at me, probably wondering if I was still angry. I was. Just not at her.
When we got home, she started up the stairs, then stopped and turned. "You plan to stay quiet all night?"
I met her eyes. "I don't have anything to say."
Her eyebrows pulled together. "You didn't have to go physical, Julian. You can't let people get under your skin that easily."
I let out a low chuckle and looked at her. "Says the girl who threw the first slap."
She blinked, then looked away, embarrassed. "That's different."
"Sure," I said, smirking a little.
She turned to leave, clearly done with the conversation, but something in me didn't want her to walk away yet.
"Catherine."
She paused, glancing back. "What?"
"You want to come to a party with me tonight?" I asked casually.
Her eyes widened. "I didn't hear you properly?"
I laughed in my head, knowing fully well that she heard me but I still repeated it, slower this time. "I'm asking you to go to a friend's birthday party with me."
For a second, she just stared at me like I'd lost my mind, then a faint blush crept up her neck. She opened her mouth to respond but I didn't wait. I just smirked, shoved my hands in my pockets, and walked past her toward my room.
"Think about it," I said over my shoulder.