Three
Scarlett
I t’s late when I finally get home. My supposed date with the library took a detour when Whit happened. I definitely wasn’t expecting to run into anyone, literally, or I would have at least changed out of my sweats. And of course I would run into the hottest man I’ve ever seen.
Whit was a whirlwind—a complete surprise. One moment I am walking around campus, reveling in the solitude of an early morning, and the next, I’m colliding with this sculpture of a man who walks as if he owns the place. I fumbled with my papers as my awkwardness spilled out; an instant crush igniting before I could even grasp it. His blue eyes sparkled with a mix of surprise and amusement, and I swear the universe was somehow conspiring against me, pairing the worst of my fashion choices with the best of his charm.
I sigh, dropping my bag to the table and shuffling through until I find the list I composed earlier. My plan to gather evidence against Dr. McAllister isn’t going very well. He’s a master of evasiveness, curling around each conversation like smoke, leaving me grasping at air with my allegations of misconduct. I had hoped to find allies amongst the faculty—someone willing to stand beside me against the tide of uncertainty.
I know my research inside and out—every note, every draft, every email exchange with him. There has to be something that proves the work is mine.
The few willing to entertain a meeting with me turned out to be nothing more than chilly dismissals labeling me ‘overly ambitious’ or ‘misguided.’ The truth was stark: I’ve seen things. I’ve experienced whispers and drunken conclusions that tether the integrity of the entire department, and yet here I stand—a lone voice echoing through a forsaken corridor of academia. I’ve always viewed college as a means to an end; a way to complete my thesis and get the hell out of here. But now? That plan feels like a dream evaporating with the morning sun.
I set the list aside and take a breath, listening to the muffled sounds of the city outside my apartment. My mind drifts back to Whit, replaying the encounter over and over. How could I have gone from swimming in theory and notes to navigating the staggering pull of attraction? In those few stolen moments, I had been enthralled—his confidence, the playfulness in his tone, the way he effortlessly brushed stray hair from his forehead while talking. It was as if space collapsed, and nothing mattered besides that breath of shared laughter.
Yet the weight of McAllister’s shadow hangs thick over my thoughts. If I don’t resolve this thesis mess, how can I even think of indulging in a date? How can I worry about the chance of connection when I feel like my future is slipping through my fingers?
My mind has been in overdrive since the day everything unraveled. The moment my world tipped off its axis, I lost track of who I was, who I wanted to be. I can’t remember the last full night of sleep I’ve had—maybe right before the lies began circling like vultures above a carcass? His deceit, his offer, the betrayals that wrapped around me like vines, suffocating my spirit; everything involving him remains a relentless echo.
But all the noise disappeared when I ran into Whit.
Somehow, he silenced the chaos and allowed me to take my first real breath in weeks. It was intoxicating, yet terrifying. I’ve been burned before—my father’s betrayal still stings like a fresh wound; Dr. McAllister, who took my hard work and twisted it into something unrecognizable, leaving me questioning my own worth. Won’t this end the same way?
I lean back in my too-small chair in the corner of my room, running my fingers through my long hair, which feels as messy as my thoughts. Exhaustion washes over me like a wave, a heaviness that threatens to pull me under.
Mmm, a hot shower, that’s what I need.
I push my chair away from the desk, the scraping sound like nails on a chalkboard, breaking the silence that surrounds me. I step into the bathroom, my sanctuary, and turn the knob, the hiss of the water filling the air.
Steam rises, curling around me like a comforting embrace. I step under the hot spray, letting it cascade over my body, washing away the grime and tension of the day. The heat soothes my muscles, loosening the knots of stress that have been building for weeks. As the thick mist envelops me, I close my eyes, allowing every part of me to relax, the weight of my worries slipping away just a bit.
As the water pours over me, my thoughts unconsciously drift back to Whit. His dark blue gaze seems to hold secrets and promises all at once. He has that intoxicating dangerous allure, the kind that makes you want to step closer even though every instinct tells you to run. His chiseled jawline, the shadows that dance along his angular features—it’s a storm waiting to unleash its fury.
Should I even be thinking about him? Definitely not. I need to be concentrating on revenge, not daydreaming about some man, even if he’s the most enticing person I’ve ever met.
My future hangs by a thread; I need to gather evidence against Dr. McAllister, to prove my work is mine. My entire career depends on the fragile threads of each document I’ve painstakingly collected, the proof that I existed in the shadows of his influence. Yet, every time the thought of Whit crosses my mind, the idea of living a little tempts me—letting the universe guide me, even though it turned my carefully laid plans into chaos.
After a few moments of indulgence I step out of the shower, wrapping myself in a plush towel, the fabric soft against my skin. My mind returns to the daunting task ahead, the struggle for justice that weighs heavily on my chest. The smell of lavender fills the air as I slowly dry my hair, thoughts swirling like a tempest in my head. I am back to the world, confronted with the reminder that pain and betrayal lurk around every corner.
I sink onto my bed, still damp, hair wrapped in a towel, staring at the ceiling above as familiar worry begins to creep back in. Perhaps the universe has different plans for me. Maybe, just maybe, there’s a reason Whit came into my life now, when everything feels like it’s falling apart.
Do I ignore him and focus solely on my fight for justice? Or do I allow myself to live, to see where this unexpected connection leads?
As the dim light from my bedside lamp casts shadows on the walls, I realize that this internal struggle might be the hardest battle yet.
I just can’t stop thinking about him. He stands so tall and confident, his presence commanding the space around him. There’s a roughness to him, evident in the way he carries himself and the slightly unkempt look of his tousled, almost white blond hair. Yet, there’s also a hint of vulnerability in his eyes, a fleeting glimpse that makes me wonder about the pain he’s hiding beneath that tough exterior.
Whit. Just thinking his name sends an electric charge through my body. I can’t stop thinking about him—the mysterious stranger I encountered on campus earlier today.
Whit is the kind of guy who doesn’t need to say much to have an impact; his very aura feels charged. His actions speak louder than words. And when he does speak, his voice rings out with a deep, resonant baritone that lingers in my mind long after we’ve parted.
There’s an undeniable chemistry between us—a pulse in the air that crackled the entire time he was near. The tattoos that undoubtedly snake up his arms, peeking out from beneath his leather jacket, add to his bad-boy image. A stud in his ear and an eyebrow ring complete the look, reinforcing a rebellious vibe that pulls me in like a moth to a flame. Beneath that dangerous facade, I sense there’s more to him—a complexity that makes me ache for understanding. Whit is a mystery I can’t help but want to solve, even though I know getting too close could mean getting burned.
But haven’t I already been burned?
What’s one more scar?
I shake my head, trying to push him out of my thoughts, but I know from experience that the heart has its own logic, often ignoring the nagging voice of reason.