<b>Chapter </b><b>219 </b>
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The gymnasium fell silent as Chase’s words hung in the air. Brock Reynolds stood frozen, his face contorted with rage and humiliation.
“Time to pay up, Reynolds,” Chase called out. “We had a bet, remember?”
Brock’s teammates exchanged nervous nces. One of them stepped forward. “Come on, man, this is ridiculous. We can’t just ”
“A bet’s a bet,” Chase interrupted, his grin widening. “Unless you guys want everyone to know that Randview doesn’t honor theirmitments.”
I watched with mild interest. The victory had been almost too easy, but watching Brock squirm under the weight of his humiliation? That was somewhat entertaining.
“Fine,” Brock spat, his voice trembling with barely contained fury. He red at me, then at Chase. “Let’s just get this over with.”
Chase stepped closer to Brock, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. “Strip.”
The tension in the room was palpable as Brock reached for the hem of his jersey. His movements were stiff, mechanical. He pulled the sweat–soaked fabric over his head, revealing a torso that was toned but unimpressive.
“Continue,” Chase said, his voice cold andmanding.
Brock’s face flushed deep red. “You can’t be serious.”
“Don’t make me strip you myself,” Chase replied, his tone making it clear this wasn’t an idle threat.
Brock’s jaw clenched tight. Then, with a sudden movement born of desperation, he yanked down his shorts, leaving himself standing in just his underwear.
“Whoa!” someone from Chase’s team called out. The crowd erupted into murmurs and nervousughter.
“What the hell is happening? Are they stripping?” a girl in the stands asked loudly.
“Did they make some kind of bet?” another student wondered.
I heard someone mention my name. “The minute I hear ‘bet,‘ I immediately think of Jade Morgan. Is this another one of her crazy schemes?”
Chase turned to me with a theatrical flourish, cing his hand over my eyes. “Jade, you shouldn’t look at this. You’ll not only get eye strain, but if Ethan Haxton finds out, he’ll definitely kill me.”
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<b>I </b>swatted his hand away, rolling my eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
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Chase wasn’t done. He turned back to face Brock’s teammates. “The rest of you too. A team wins together, loses together.”
Reluctantly, one by one, they stripped down to their underwear. Each face burned with shame, red from neck to
hairline.
Students in the crowd had their phones out now, recording the spectacle. Some wereughing, others looked ufortable, but no one was looking away.
Just when I thought the situation couldn’t get more chaotic, the gymnasium doors swung open. Philip Thornton, the dean of Princeton, walked in with a group of well–dressed individuals–members of the educationmittee on a campus tour.
Philip froze mid–sentence as several nearly–naked Randview yers ran past. Themittee members‘ expressions ranged from shock to horror to poorly concealed amusement.
“I… uh…” Philip stammered. “That’s our swim team. They’re doing some… outdoor training exercises.”
Onemittee member raised an eyebrow skeptically.
Chase was still reveling in his victory when he noticed something on my sleeve. “Jade, are you bleeding?”
I nced down at my arm. The sleeve of my shirt had a small but growing red stain. The wound from Christmas had reopened during the game. “It’s nothing.”
Chase grabbed my arm, his yful demeanor vanishing. “That’s not nothing. Let me see.”
I pulled away. “It’s fine. The wound just reopened.”
“What wound? How did you get hurt? Was it that bastard Brock? Or that asshole Rnd from the other day?” Chase’s questions came rapid–fire.
‘I got it during Christmas,” I replied tly.
Chase’s eyes widened. “What kind of injury still bleeds after all this time? And why didn’t you say something? You shouldn’t have been ying with an injury!”
Before I could respond, my phone buzzed. I checked the message:
<i>I’m </i>outside<i>. </i>Where are <i>you</i><i>? </i><i>– </i><i>E.II. </i>
“I need to go,” I said to Chase. “Ethan is waiting for me.”
Chase’s expression shifted to panic. “Wait, I didn’t know you were injured! If Mr. Haxton asks, make sure to tell him
8:00 Fri<b>, </b><b>Sep </b>26 <b>T </b>
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that, okay? I don’t want him getting the wrong idea and, you know, killing me.”
Outside, Ethan’s sleek ck car was parked at the curb. He stepped out when he saw me, his expression changing from calm to concerned as his eyes locked onto my bloodstained sleeve.
“What happened?” he asked, immediately taking my arm and examining it through the fabric.
“It’s nothing serious,” I said. “Just an old wound that opened up.”
His fingers were gentle but insistent as he rolled up my sleeve to assess the damage. “This needs proper medical attention. Come with me.”
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At my apartment, Ethan’s personal physician examined my arm. “The stitches have torn,” the doctor noted, cleaning the wound efficiently.
“She was ying basketball. With an existing injury,” Ethan exined, his tone carefully neutral but with an undertone of disapproval.
I shrugged my free shoulder. “It was a friendly match against Randview College. As a future Princeton student, I had to defend the school’s honor.”
“Did you win?” the doctor asked conversationally.
“97 to 13,” I replied. “I scored 90 points myself.”
Ethan raised an eyebrow. “That’s quite specific. Let me guess–another bet?”
After the doctor left, Ethan showed me his phone. “Connor showed me the school forum. It seems your basketball game has generated quite a buzz.”
The thread was titled “JADE MORGAN DESTROYS RANDVIEW & FORCES STRIP SHOW,” apanied by blurry photos of Brock and his teammates in their underwear.
“Not much to see, honestly,” Ethanmented. “Next time, perhaps bet on something more interesting.”
“Their physiques were rather disappointing,” I agreed.
Connor, who had been quietly standing in the corner, cleared his throat. “Mr. Haxton’s is much better, if I may say so. Years of mixed martial arts and proper nutrition-”
Ethan shot him a warning re, and Connor immediately fell silent.
I couldn’t resist. “You’ve seen Ethan’s physique, Connor? Personally?”
Connor’s face flushed red. “No! I mean, I’ve seen him at thepany gym, from a professional distance, of course.”
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“Maybe <b>that </b>should be our next bet,” I suggested. “See if Ethan lives up to the hype.”
Ethan’s expression cycled through several emotions before settling on aposed neutral look.
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