Laughter explodes. Jace’s phone is up, red light blinking.Someone starts chanting my name like it’s a penalty shot.
Suddenly it’s not a taunt. It’s a bet with half the campus watching.
And the girl by the door hasn’t moved once.
Her balance is perfect—centered weight, grounded heels, relaxed shoulders, gaze tracking in smooth passes. Muscle memory, not nerves. She compensates before contact. No wasted motion.
It shouldn’t fascinate me. But it does. Quietly, like a frequency no one else can hear.
Laughter spikes again. Reed’s voice cuts through the bass. “Go on, O’Connor! Let’s see it!”
The room tilts toward me, waiting.
Maybe that’s why I move. Or maybe it’s because she hasn’t looked at me once.
I roll my shoulders, mask sliding into place. The grin that says I’m the king. “Not even a challenge,” I toss back.
A flicker in my chest disagrees.
Beer breath and grabby hands close in as I push through the crowd. The air thickens, then cools by the open door where she stands with a friend. Red Hoodie clocks me and blinks. The other one holds her ground.
Up close, this girl is trouble disguised as restraint.
Serious face. Long dark hair with one rebellious lock. Clean skin. An unpainted, inconveniently kissable mouth. Oversized sweater. Worn jeans. A repaired shoulder seam.
That loose strand brushes her cheek. She doesn’t fix it. Everything about her is contained. Controlled. Ready.
Her eyes flick to my jaw.
Shit. Lipstick smear.
I drag my thumb across it and probably make it worse, then take the last half step into her space.
“Hey,” I say, flashing the smile that does half the work. “You came underdressed for this zoo. Want a drink? Something stronger than water?”
“No.” Immediate. Clean. “I like my brain working.”
The word slaps. When was the last time anyone told me no?
Okay. Fine.
I adjust.
“Patio’s quieter,” I say, reloading, the rhythm automatic. “Walk with me.”
“No.”
The way she says it stops me. No apology. No hedging. Just a clean strike across the ego.
Most girls would already be halfway to the door. She doesn’t move. She watches me, steady, unimpressed, waiting to see what I’ll do with myself now.
“All right,” I say, slowing down. “I’m Kieran.”
“I know.”
Of course she does.
“And you are…?”
