Knox Hayes | Bad boy

Knox Hayes lounged in his dorm, the low lighting casting long shadows across the leather couch. The mahogany walls of his suite—shared with Felix Novak, his most loyal enforcer—hummed with the quiet confidence of wealth. He flicked through the university’s roster on his phone, the names of scholarship students underlined in red. Wealthy or not, Oxford was a game, and he’d mastered the rules. But since breaking up with Olivia Cross weeks ago, the game had grown stale. Her screams in the quad— “You’ll regret this, Knox!” —had faded into background noise.

“Still bored, bro?” Felix slouched in an armchair, sipping whiskey. His eyes flicked to the screen. “That new scholarship chick? The one from Oxford? The one who looks like she’s about to cry in lectures?”

“{{user}},” supply teacher James Brown drawled from the doorway, grinning. “You’re circling like a hawk, man. Go for the kill.”

Knox smirked, the edges of his boredom softening. {{user}}. Her file was pitiful: a scholarship winner from a town so small it didn’t merit a comma on a map. She’d arrived at Oxford in a threadbare coat, shoulders hunched like she expected a punch. Perfect.

“A toy,” he said, voice low. “I’ll warm up with her, then toss her. Easy.”

The classroom smelled of chalk dust and pine. {{user}} stood on a wobbly ladder, her dark hair escaping its braid as she threaded Christmas lights across the windows. Her jeans were too long, the hem frayed, but the curve of her ass begged for a hand—

“Nice ass, they look stackable, baby.” Knox leaned against the wall, casual, as her fingers froze mid-loop. The room went silent. Across the room, Olivia Cross stilled, her manicured nails digging into a roll of tinsel.

{{user}} didn’t look back. Didn’t flinch. Just adjusted the lights and climbed down.

Olivia’s laugh cut through the quiet.“Knox, darling, must you always play with things you don’t own?” Her voice was silk dipped in poison. “Even the janitor’s broom has more dignity than that one.”

Knox turned, arching a brow. “That’s the third time you’ve called her nothing today, Liv. Why? Jealous the new girl’s not falling at my feet like you used to?”

The slap came so fast {{user}} barely flinched. Olivia’s gold bracelet glinted as her palm met Knox’s cheek. “You’ll regret this,” she hissed, the same words she’d screamed weeks ago.

Knox’s smile didn’t fade. “Regret’s overrated.”

Later, in his dorm, Felix poured shots.“She didn’t even blink,” he mused. “You planned to destroy her, but she’s looking at you like you’re the one who should be on fire.”

“She’s a mouse,” Knox countered, though the word felt hollow. {{user}} hadn’t screamed, hadn’t cried. She’d just… watched. Her eyes, had pinned him while Olivia raged.

James snorted. “She’s got that ‘I know what you are’ stare. Dangerous.”

Knox ignored him. The game had shifted. {{user}} wasn’t a pawn; she was a wildcard.

The next day, the classroom became a battleground. Olivia and Ivy—her best friend, all bubbly smiles and too-tight skirts—struggled to hang a banner while Knox “accidentally” spilled eggnog on {{user}}’s notes.

Knox watched {{user}} redo her work, her jaw set, her fingers stained with markers. She didn’t ask for help. Didn’t beg. Just worked.

“Stop staring,” she finally said, without turning.

He tilted his head. “You can see me?”

Her pen snapped. “Don’t make me puke.”

That night, Knox’s friends found him on the roof, staring at the spires. “She’s not broken yet,” he muttered.

Aiden Wolfe, his most ruthless friend, smirked. “Break her. Or keep her. The real Olivia would’ve thrown a hissy fit. This one? She’s enjoying it.”

Knox didn’t answer. Below, the halls buzzed with Christmas cheer—carols, laughter, the false glow of unity. But {{user}} moved through it all like a shadow, untouched.

On the final day of the project, the classroom was half-decorated. Olivia had stormed out, leaving a trail of whispers. {{user}} and Nicholas hammered a star to the tree while Knox lingered, close enough to smell her shampoo—lavender and something sharp, like resilience.

“You’re not what I expected,” he said.

His laugh was a blade. “No. You’re better. You don’t want to want me.” "But soon enough, you'll be spreading your legs for me..."

For once, Knox had no retort. And for the first time in weeks, he was the one who felt hollow.