Legally Not Yours

The Exchange

POV: Leah Rosewood

I jolted awake with a gasp. The light streaming through the window was wrong. Too high. Too bright.

Too late.

I sat up so fast my head spun, nearly falling off the edge of the bed. Jared was still asleep, one arm thrown across the pillow, hair messy, lips slightly parted. Peaceful. Beautiful. I wanted to throw something at him.

“Jared!” I snapped.

He stirred, brow furrowing. “What—”

“It’s past nine.”

He blinked. “So?”

“Eva’s class started ten minutes ago.”

That got him up. “Wait—what?”

“I’m late. I’m so late. I was supposed to be there. Early.” I jumped out of bed and scrambled to grab my bag, my paper—where was it, where was it—and my boots.

“Where’s my paper?” I hissed, panic rising. “Did you move it? Tell me you didn’t touch it—”

“I didn’t move anything!” he said, sitting up.

I found it half-crumpled on the floor beside his jacket. My heart dropped. “God, it’s ruined—”

“It’s fine,” he said. “Just breathe.”

“Oh, now you want me to breathe? You’re the reason I overslept! I should’ve never—” My throat tightened. “I should’ve never trusted you.”

He stood up slowly. “Leah…”

“You used me,” I snapped, fire in my chest. “You distracted me all night so I’d miss the class. You screwed me on purpose—”

“Excuse me?”

“You only wanted one thing from me—”

He stepped in, jaw tense. “Don’t you dare reduce what happened to that.”

“I’m late! Eva’s going to shred my scholarship, and you’re still standing there like you don’t care!”

“I do care,” he said through gritted teeth. “Which is why I’m driving you. Now.”

We barely spoke in the car. The silence between us wasn’t cold—it was crackling. He drove like a man possessed. I clutched my paper in both hands, fingers wrinkling the corners. We skidded into the lot with ten minutes left before class ended.

“You better run,” he said, throwing the car in park.

I didn’t say thank you. I just slammed the door and sprinted.

When I finally burst through the door in the auditorium, I could barely catch my breath. Nearly tripping over my own feet and my hair whipped around my face.

“Sorry. Sorry,” I gasped, moving quickly to the front of the room, clutching my paper like a lifeline. “Here. It’s done.”

Eva’s eyes flicked up, her brow arching in that way that made me feel like she could see through me.

“Oh,” she said, her voice oozing with sarcasm. “Look who finally decided to show up.”

“I was in the building,” I muttered, my chest still heaving. “Just... late.”

She didn’t miss a beat. “And deadlines, dear, are about more than just effort. They’re about respect.”

I slammed my paper onto her desk, the harsh sound of it cutting through the tension in the room. “So respect the work.”

She tapped her long, perfectly manicured nail against the top of the page, her gaze never leaving mine.

“I don’t know if I should accept this.” A murmur rippled through the class.

“Come on,” someone whispered from the back. “She did finish it.”

“She’s right,” another muttered. That’s when Carlson, who had been lounging in his seat at the back, suddenly stood up, his voice cutting through the low hum of the classroom.

“Professor Rosewood,” he said with an exaggerated politeness that felt almost mocking, “I think we all know Leah’s been working harder than anyone. It’s not like she ghosted the project.”

Eva’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t respond immediately. “I have policies,” she said, her voice sharp.

Carlson didn’t flinch. “You also have witnesses,” he said, his tone louder now, his confidence growing with every word. “She made it. She delivered. Rejecting her work now would feel... personal.”

A few people in the class shifted uncomfortably. Carlson’s words hung in the air like a challenge, and I could see Eva weighing her options.

“And you’ve been so helpful already,” he added, his voice dripping with a new kind of sarcasm. “In fact, I was thinking I’d like to thank you personally.”

Eva’s lips parted in shock, but before she could respond, Carlson cut her off.

“What do you think, everyone?” He turned to the class, a smug smirk on his face, waiting for their reactions. A few students nodded in agreement, others shrugged. It was clear that the room wasn’t exactly on Eva’s side.

She glared at him, her patience fraying. I stood tall, the weight of the moment sinking in, a surge of victory rushing through me.

Carlson held her gaze, unblinking. “I think you should accept it, Professor Rosewood,” he said, his voice firm and unwavering.

Eva glared at him for a moment longer, then turned to me, her expression a mixture of disbelief and resignation.

“Fine,” she muttered, her voice tight with irritation, as she grabbed my paper and slid it into her briefcase. “I’ll accept it.”

* * *

After class, I was halfway down the stairs when I felt a gentle touch on my shoulder. I turned around, my heart unexpectedly fluttering at the sight of Carlson standing there, his smile warm and easy, as if the world was in perfect balance.

“You’re welcome,” he said, his voice soft but teasing, clearly not phased by the tension that had just passed.

I felt a spark of annoyance, trying to hold on to the frustration that had been building. “I didn’t ask you to interfere,” I said, my tone a little sharper than I meant.

He just shrugged, that light-hearted smile never fading. “No, but you needed me to.”

I rolled my eyes, unable to keep the small smile from tugging at the corner of my lips.

“That wasn’t help. That was politics,” I said, trying to stay mad, but the way he was looking at me, so nonchalant and unbothered, made it impossible to keep the edge.

Carlson chuckled, the sound light and warm, like a breath of fresh air.

“And politics got your paper accepted,” he said. “You can thank me later. How about we go out tonight? I’ll pick you up at 7. A nice dinner, just the two of us.”

My breath caught, and I suddenly couldn’t think straight. His invitation wasn’t just casual—it was sweet, with a sincerity that made it impossible to stay angry at him. His eyes held a playful challenge, but there was kindness in them that made my heart skip a beat.

Before I could find the words, he gave me that soft smile again, turned, and walked away with an easy grace.

I stood there, watching him go, the edges of my frustration already fading, replaced by something else. Something I couldn’t name, but something I wanted to explore.