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stephaniecobalt · 2 years

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Rose and Connor's first time alone together

Summary: Rose and Connor's first 1:1 interaction at the national quiz bowl tournament. You can read this without having read the Addicted/Calloway series, however I highly recommend the series! It's my all-time favorite

A/N: Rose and Connor are academic rivals to lovers from the Addicted/Calloway series by Krista and Becca Ritchie. Connor's first name is actually "Richard". He just prefers to go by Connor, but Rose commonly calls him Richard when she's mad at him. Enjoy! (✿◠‿◠)

Word count: 2k

Rose Calloway

I’m painfully aware of the way my Chanel headband digs into my pounding skull and the way my fingers grip the buzzer slick with sweat. This is the last question in the last round of the national quiz bowl tournament and Connor Cobalt is getting on my last nerve. He’s managed to answer just as many questions as I have, and our team’s scores are tied up. Everything rests on this last point.

This round of the tournament is technically Dalton Academy vs Faust Academy For Boys. But from my perspective, the last couple hours have been a rapid-fire, one on one duel: Rose Magdala Calloway vs Richard Connor Cobalt.

We’ve thus far established ourselves as the respective MVPs of each team by answering the majority of prompts, each of us vying to snatch a point before the other can.

My attention shifts to the officiator, who flips to the next page for our final question. Connor and I lock gazes. I wear a fierce glare while he wears his trademark and infuriatingly confident smirk. Ugh. I'm tempted to roll my eyes, but refuse to be the first to break eye contact.

Can’t he at least pretend like he’s scared of losing this last point?

I’d never admit it to anyone, but I am. This moment has been years in the making. I’ve been to dozens of competitions, studied for hundreds of hours, and written thousands of note cards in hopes of winning the national title.

No one is going to get in my way. Not even the handsome, teasing, and overconfident boy standing opposite me.

My glare must intensify with conviction, because Connor quirks a brow.

Translation: “Scared, Rose?”

My eyes narrow. “In your dreams, Richard.”

The officiator begins reading.

“In this play, a prince falls in love with a maiden due to the magical charms of the Rightful Duke of Milan. That prince went on to…”

It’s a Shakespeare question.

I’ve practically been reading Shakespeare since I came out of the womb.

Instantaneously, I know I’ve won. I slam the buzzer as my glare transforms into a confident smile to match Connor’s.

Except nothing happens.

And in the second that it takes me to press the button again I hear the other size buzz in.

“The Tempest” Connor chimes in easily.

He’s right.

My heart stops. And then I feel it drop all the way down to my Louis Vuitton heels. I feel devastated - so devastated that I barely register my teammates clapping me on the back then sliding past me to exit the room. The officiator’s congratulations and closing remarks pass by in a blur, and I'm still staring at my faulty buzzer, seething at its betrayal when I hear:

“Don’t look so upset, Rose. If it’s any consolation, it’s not you, it’s me.” Connor grins from across the room as he continues, “I always win.” He shrugs his shoulders as if to say, “it can’t be helped”, and it sparks a fire in me, snapping me out of my trance

“Don’t gloat, Richard. It’s not a good look on you.” I snarl back.

“Don’t lie to yourself, Rose. Everything looks good on me.”

He walks toward the officiator’s podium unphased and begins flipping through the packet of questions.

This piques my curiosity. “What are you doing?”

“I always review the packets after a match.”

“Really?” I say dryly. “Winning isn't enough for you?”

“No. It’s not. Winning is only a byproduct of my true goal - which is to be better than everyone else.”

This time I don’t say anything in return, not because I don’t have anything to say, but because I’d rather not share what I’m thinking with Connor. I find his admission strikingly relatable. As much as I enjoy Quiz Bowl, I’m not just here to collect trophies either. I’m interested in collecting knowledge. I like knowing things. It makes me feel in control.

With the questions packet in hand, Connor takes a seat behind the podium. He hooks his designer shoes onto a nearby chair to drag it right up next to him and gives me an expectant stare.

I feel compelled to sit down, but at the same time nervous to be in such close proximity to Connor.

“I’ll let you look, but we have to share.” he offers, tilting his head toward the empty chair.

I take the seat.

We’re close enough that I can feel his body heat in the chilly room, and the sides of our legs are almost brushing. I feel nervous at the thought of leaning closer to him, but from where I am right now it’s difficult to read the questions.

“Move the packet closer to me.” I demand.

He moves the packet until it’s mostly on my lap, but taunts “No please? Seems like Dalton needs to teach their students better literature and better manners.”

“Pity that Faust doesn’t offer classes in modesty. Although I doubt you could even meet the course prerequisites given that you’re a raging narcissist.” I quip back. Ha.

Connor wears an amused smirk and I wear a triumphant one as I turn back to the packet to review the questions.

After reviewing the packet together for 5 minutes or so in silence, I hear Connor’s phone vibrate. He slides his phone open and stands smoothly.

“My team is waiting for me outside. The packet’s all yours. I’ll see you around.” There’s a beat of silence before he adds, “You did well Rose. There aren’t many people that can match me, but you are my fiercest competitor. I look forward to our next duel.” And with a quick nod he slips out the door.

As soon as he leaves, I feel a little emptier. The defeat which had been so easy to forget when I was preoccupied with Connor comes back with a vengeance. And so does my anger. My anger at the buzzer. Ohmygod.

I remember that I was robbed of my rightful victory, and I’m not giving up on it yet. I race across the room quickly testing the buzzers and confirming my suspicions that for whatever reason, my buzzer blew out on the last question. My eyes are wide and my heartbeat is racing with hope.

This isn’t over just yet.

I hunt down the official and drag him into the room to show him the defective buzzer.

“Sorry sweetheart, but how do we know that you didn’t just sabotage that buzzer right now?”

Seriously?! I could scream in frustration right now, but I need to convince this man that I’m not the type of person who would break a buzzer to win this title, and I know that screaming and threatening to castrate him would be counterproductive. I take a deep breath.

“Sir, I assure you -”

He cuts me off with a patronizing smile “- Look sweetheart, we already announced Faust as the winners. Even if your buzzer did break -” He pauses and has the audacity to wink at me as if we’re sharing some sick understanding that I broke the buzzer as a last-ditch attempt to win, “There’s just no way we’re recalling that announcement.”

I have absolutely had it today. I am livid. Everything about this man grates on me, and I need to leave before I lose my composure. I shoot him one last withering look of disgust before spinning on my heel and storming out towards the parking lot.

I rip off my headband with one hand (please forgive me Coco) and massage my tense neck with the other as I stride towards my car. Halfway there, I spot Connor surrounded by his celebrating teammates, and I swear my body gets even tenser than it was before. I didn’t think that was possible.

I can’t deal with any more infuriating men at the moment, so I trudge ahead even though his concerned eyes meet mine and silently probe: “Rose? What’s wrong?”

A more prudent question would be “What isn’t wrong?”. Right now it feels like the world is against me. And for the second time today I’m losing a duel. This one is even worse: Rose Magdala Calloway vs World.

I need to go home.

I imagine myself screaming in my closet as I finally slide into my car and slam the door shut. God that feels good. My shaky hands fumble the key into the ignition and I whip my head around to reverse around only to be met with all 6 feet of Connor Cobalt standing right outside of my convertible.

“Tell me what happened.” he demands.

I hate that he’s seeing me like this. I hate that I'm losing control over my emotions right now. Tears prick behind my eyes threaten to fall with the weight of everything that has happened today, but I command them to stay out of sight. Instead of letting my tears fall, I let my words fly. Raw and unfiltered, I spit out the thoughts on the tip of my tongue.

“I hope what you said back there about not caring about winning is true Connor, because you didn’t win. My buzzer was broken, but I did buzz before you. I’ve been reading Shakespeare since before I could walk. Before I could talk. I don’t care that you don’t believe me, and I don’t care that the official didn’t believe me. You’re walking home with that national trophy, but make no mistake, it’s still mine.”

By the time I finish my rant, my eyes are wet with angry tears. I yank the car into reverse without giving him a chance to respond. And as I slam the car into drive, I speed off regretting and wondering why I spilled all of my feelings out to Connor like that.

Pull it together. You are Rose Calloway, and you will not let this day drag you down.

This mantra plays on loop in my head, and only one tear slips before I hastily swipe it away and tip my chin up.

Tomorrow will be better.

~ The next day at school ~

Sebastian, my longtime friend, strides up to my locker as I pull out notes for my first class.

He claps me on the shoulder. “Congratulations are in order. I mean things could have gone better, but considering Faust has won the last 4 years. I think breaking their streak is a pretty good deal don’t you?”

Huh?

“We lost.” I clarify for Sebastian a little more harshly than I needed to, but it’s a sore subject and this kind of feels like a mean prank.

“Umm, no you didn’t.” He replies.

“I think I would know better than you, Seb. After all, I was literally there.” I wish he would just drop it.

“So the school paper is wrong, then?” He prods disbelievingly as he pulls the paper out of his bag and hands it to me.

I snatch it from his hands and greedily read the words below the section titled: “Dalton breaks Faust’s 4 year reign at the National Quiz Bowl Tournament”. My jaw is hanging open slightly and my eyes furrow deeper with each line I read in the paper.

After a brief mixup, in which Faust was mistakenly awarded the title. This year, Dalton and Faust reign side by side as co-champions.

I read it again.

How did this happen?

I desperately want it to be true, but I keep my guard up. This weekend was enough of an emotional rollercoaster as it is, and I was hoping to put all of the Quiz Bowl drama behind me so that I could focus on Model UN.

There are only two people that I revealed the truth to. The officiator and Connor. I sincerely doubt the officiator changed his mind, which only leaves one option.

I would have bet my company on the fact that Connor would take the win for Faust. After all, leading his team to victory all four years would look great on his College apps, and there’s nothing that matters more to him than those apps. Additionally, after 3 years of being academic rivals it’s hard to picture him sticking up for me. His actions make it seem almost as if we’re on the same side, but that doesn’t add up.

For the first time, I’m not sure what I feel towards Connor. We’ve been academic rivals for so long, could we ever really be anything else?

*hint, hint* :p

Thank you so much for reading, pls feel free to send in any requests for scenes you want to read from the Addicted/Calloway universe!

#coballoway #connor cobalt #rose calloway #calloway sisters #addicted series #krista and becca ritchie #kiss the sky #fuel the fire #addicted to you #fanfiction #connor cobalt fanfiction #imagine

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