CHAPTER 340: WHO’S YOUR DELIVERY BOY?

Micah stood stiffly in front of Archie and Zian. An awkward silence clung between them. His eyes darted toward Emile at his side as though searching for some kind of backup. His throat felt dry, and he cleared it with an awkward little sound. The way Archie’s gaze lingered on him made his skin prickle. He opened his mouth, ready to make some excuse and bolt away. He had been caught badmouthing Archie earlier. Sure, he hated the guy’s guts, no denying that. But saying it out loud, to his face... Well, that wasn’t something he could take pride in.

Before Micah could get a syllable out, Zian leaned in, grinning with that smug air that always got on Micah’s nerves.

"Right, where is DarkVyne?" Zian asked, scanning the space around them as though Darcy might come out from hiding. "Aren’t you two peas in a pod?"

The way he said it carried more than curiosity. It was full of the smugness of someone ready to gloat. He clearly wanted to rub it in that dark-haired boy’s face that, without him, they had managed to win the tournament. Zian’s tone carried both mockery and the kind of satisfaction that made Micah’s fists itch.

Beside him, Emile let out a dramatic, "ohhh" sound. His eyes lit up in realisation, and his voice was full of teasing. "I knew it."

Micah’s jaw clenched. He wanted, with every fibre of his being, to slam his fist into Zian’s smirking face. First, Zian had put him on the spot by repeating his name-calling, and now he had to run his mouth about Darcy in front of Emile.

Micah had been carefully avoiding letting Emile know too much about Darcy, about the bet, about their weird dynamics, because the last thing he wanted was for it to be misunderstood.

It wasn’t like he was cheating or sneaking around. But Emile’s mind worked in its own mischievous ways, and if he started connecting dots that weren’t even there, Micah was doomed. His relationship with Darcy was complicated. Clyde already knew the whole story, yet Micah still could tell the man was on guard whenever Darcy’s name came up. The last thing Micah needed was Emile feeding that fire.

Micah sighed in frustration. He was stuck right in the middle of Clyde and Darcy, and people around him seemed intent on making his life harder.

"He’s super busy... unlike some people," Micah shot back, his eyes narrowing at Zian. "He wasn’t a freshman representative just for show. He’s already working on a ton of projects." His voice came out sharp, full of disdain.

"Hey! Are you saying we are freeloaders or something?" Zian snapped, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "We were in training today. And last night too." He jabbed a finger toward Micah. "Don’t get cocky just because you got a little fame off our Captain. You think you’re some pro now? Careful, your swollen head might burst."

Micah tilted his head. Fame? What fame was this guy even talking about? Was he mocking him? He couldn’t stand this guy at all.

Archie, who had been quiet up to this point, finally spoke. His face betrayed nothing, but his eyes flickered for the briefest second, pained, like someone had shoved a knife into his heart. Hearing Micah defending Darcy cut deeper than he wanted to admit. But he suppressed the turmoil in his chest, burying it beneath his calm exterior.

Archie reached out and clapped Zian’s shoulder firmly. "Stop it," he said, his tone calm. His gaze, however, shifted toward Micah. "We need to get back to camp," Archie continued, voice even. He pulled the container from under his arm and held it toward Micah. "Could you give this to Russell? He didn’t answer when I called."

Micah’s eyebrow twitched in annoyance. He wanted to slam that container on his head and say, ’Who’s your delivery boy?’ But he held back his temper. He reached out and grabbed the container reluctantly. "Alright," he muttered, tone flat.

Archie gave a small nod, then turned away. Zian shot Micah one last venomous glare before stomping after him.

Micah exhaled sharply, his temple throbbing.

Emile watched them go and said with a sly grin. "You should never believe online gossip," he remarked, his tone light but teasing. "Your attitude and his... I say it was more like enemies meeting each other, not two people trying to flirt!"

"Gee! I told you so," Micah said, sounding wounded. "I got dragged into it."

Emile stared at him, thoughtful. "Well, I am not sure about Darcy, though. I always found your dynamic a little strange."

Micah gave a humorless laugh, throwing up his free hand. "What’s strange about it? He and I just clicked, that’s all."

Emile shrugged, but his eyes held a knowing glint. He didn’t push it, though. Instead, he just smiled. Deep down, Emile had always thought there was more to it. The two of them were too close to be just friends. But he didn’t voice it out.

Instead, he thought to himself that maybe it was good. His little uncle needed to learn what it felt like when things didn’t go his way. A little failure or stumble... that wasn’t bad. Maybe he would cherish more what was around him. Emile really wanted to see Clyde frustrated, struggle, and fight for something. He was too bland. Too stoic.

And Micah was like a firecracker. He was reckless, fiery, unpredictable, and soft-hearted enough to melt even Clyde’s iceberg exterior.

Micah rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand as his gaze dropped to the container in his hand. "I’ll go to Russell’s room."

Emile waved a dismissive hand, already returning to their room.

Micah marched down the hall, his footsteps heavy against the floor. When he reached Russell’s room, he knocked once before pushing the door open.

Inside, Russell was sitting behind a laptop, his eyes glued to the screen showing the LOJ background, his fingers moved rapidly over the keyboard, playing a match.

"Hey," Micah called out, holding up the container. "Your brother brought you this."

Russell’s fingers stilled mid-motion, his head turning around. He looked at Micah in surprise. "When did you two meet?" he asked, blinking rapidly.

"Huh? Just now," Micah replied, brows furrowing. "He said you didn’t answer."

Russell bit his lip, turning away quickly to hide his grin threatening to spread across his face. What call? Archie hadn’t called him at all. He was using him as an excuse to get close to Micah.

"Ah, thanks," Russell said, finally taking the container from Micah. He popped the lid open and peered inside. Biscotti. Well, he was not that fond of them. He was more sure it was for Micah, not him. He grabbed a few, then quickly closed the lid again. He stretched his hand back out toward Micah. "Here. Have some. I gained weight recently. And I can’t exactly refuse my mum when she sends these."

Micah hesitated, staring at the container for a moment. But in the end, he gave in and accepted it. The smell of fresh biscotti had made his mouth water before he could stop it. He could never say no to it. "Okay," Micah said, lips turning into a mischievous smirk. "I’ll take it as your apology."

"What apology?"

"Hah! The nerve!" Micah rolled his eyes. "Who blabbed my business to my roommates?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Hello? Frosty? I played for SilverBlade Legion? Your brother’s team?" Micah pointed out.

Russell let out a short laugh, scratching the back of his head. "Sorry... but they told me about your party too," he argued.

"Like it is the same," Micah shot back immediately. "Anyway. Please don’t go around shouting my gaming account. I already died of embarrassment once thanks to that forum post. I don’t need another one."

Russell’s lips twitched as he tried, and failed, to suppress his laughter. His shoulders shook faintly.

"Fuck off!" Micah snapped, kicking his legs out against Russell’s shin. "It’s your stupid brother’s fault anyway."

"Yeah, yeah," Russell muttered, still grinning.

"I’m out." Micah huffed, spinning on his heel toward the door. He slammed the door with a bang, muffling Russell’s laughter.