Beth never thought she'd be the kind of girl to fall into a routine.
Not the wake up, brush teeth, go to class, do your homework kind. God, no.
But this—whatever this was between her and Brandon—this routine had crept into her life like a slow rot. Quiet. Unassuming.
Comfortable in a way that felt… dangerous.
Mornings started with Ashes curled up by her side or Brandon's, depending on whose room they passed out in. Coffee or tea (black, no sugar), often silent but not awkward. A shared glance. Sometimes a lazy, sarcastic remark.
Sometimes just… quiet.
Afternoons were filled with pretending to be normal. Club meetings. Campus food. Homework she'd actually started doing because, apparently, pretending to be someone's girlfriend came with stupid things like GPA expectations. And if she was being honest with herself, she didn't hate the feeling of understanding what the hell was going on in class for once.
Evenings were… stranger.
Some nights they trained. Brandon testing her patience with his rules and his calm, judgmental stares as she mimicked his clean, efficient kills on dummies or wood targets.
Other nights, there were real targets. Ones they picked carefully. People who hurt others. Scum. And she'd learned to follow the rules, even when every part of her screamed for chaos.
He hadn't called her a monster in days.
And that felt weirder than anything else.
Beth lay on her bed, legs up against the headboard, scrolling idly through her phone while Brandon napped beside her—because apparently healing from a bullet wound still took energy, no matter how stubbornly stoic he pretended to be.
Ashes was curled up in the crook of his arm like a smug, judgmental chaperone.
Beth let her phone rest on her chest, glancing over at him. His hair was messy, one hand twitching slightly like he was dreaming about punching someone.
She kind of liked seeing him like this. Still. Quiet. Not calculating his next moral debate or staring her down like she was a wild animal he wasn't sure he could tame.
She liked that he trusted her enough to sleep here.
She liked that she didn't want to stab him for it.
That was new.
That was weird.
A knock at the door snapped her out of it.
She groaned and rolled off the bed, careful not to wake him. When she opened the door, Liv stood there, sunglasses pushed up onto her head and holding a bright pink flyer like it personally offended her.
"Yo," Liv greeted, glancing past Beth into the room.
Beth instinctively leaned against the doorframe, trying to block the view—too late.
Liv's eyebrows shot up. "Is that—Brandon?"
Beth didn't answer. Her silence was answer enough.
Liv smirked and held out the flyer. "There's a party Friday night. Off campus. Kym says it's going to be loud, stupid, and borderline illegal. So obviously I'm going. You two should come."
Beth took the flyer slowly, trying to appear unbothered.
"Yeah, we'll see," she muttered.
Liv's eyes flicked back to the bed. "He, uh… staying the night or just napping?"
Beth raised a brow. "What's it look like?"
"Looks like you've been defiling dorm policy."
Liv grinned, devilish. "Hope you've got protection. Would hate for your fake relationship to result in a very real scare."
Beth didn't flinch—but her face got hot, and she hated that.
Liv caught it immediately.
"Oh my God. Beth. Are you actually blushing?"
"No," Beth deadpanned.
"Yes," Liv sang, backing up with both hands raised in exaggerated surrender. "Don't worry. I'm not judging. I'm just impressed."
Beth narrowed her eyes. "Get out of here before I actually kill someone."
"Make it look like an accident." Liv winked. "See you at the club meeting."
She turned and left, leaving Beth standing in the doorway with the stupid pink flyer and a face she couldn't convince to cool down.
She closed the door, tossed the flyer onto her desk, and leaned her back against the door.
Brandon was still asleep. Probably didn't hear any of that. Hopefully.
Ashes cracked one golden eye open, looked at her, and meowed—long and low, like she knew.
Beth glared. "Not. A. Word."
The cat blinked slowly.
Beth glanced back at Brandon.
She was okay with this routine.
Even if it scared her how not awful it felt. Even if the old her—the real her—would've scoffed at everything happening right now.
She wasn't sure if she was softening or if she was just finally figuring herself out.
Either way, she wasn't running.
And that scared her more than she cared to admit.