Chapter 2
AVA
THEN
W hy am I even here?
It’s Saturday night.
I've got a paper due on Monday, two unread books stacked beside my laptop, and at least three essays I still need to skim before I even start writing.
But somehow, Kieron convinced me. Well—wore me down until "just one drink" turned into me standing here, wedged between a half-empty keg and a guy shouting about beer pong like it's the Olympics.
The music pulses through my skull. The air smells like stale beer, sweat, and alarmingly, sex.
Kieron catches my eye, raising his cup in mock triumph. "See?" he mouths. "It’s not so bad. This is part of college, love. Partying with your friends."
I shake my head. "You owe me coffee and annotated poetry tomorrow."
He grins, then jerks his chin toward the kitchen. "Look at that tosser," he says under his breath, his British accent curling around the words.
I follow his gaze to see Roman Muller, leaning against the counter like he owns it, one arm slung around a blonde's shoulders while his lips are pressed against a brunette's mouth.
The blonde giggles, sliding her hand down his chest while the brunette tugs him closer.
He pulls away with a cocky grin, wipes his mouth, then tilts his head back for another swig of beer as a third girl whispers something in his ear.
I snort. "Wow."
Kieron rolls his eyes, disgust curling his lips. "Typical bloody jock. He thinks he's some king."
"To the women throwing themselves at him, he is."
"He's a walking cliché," Kieron mutters. "Athletes here...they have it all handed to them. And they still want more."
I can't argue with that. I sip my soda, watching Roman soak in the attention like he was born for it. Yet when he glances up—through all the chaos, the girls, the music—he looks straight at me.
Our eyes lock, and it’s like the world crashes to a halt.
His grin deepens.
My stomach flips, and I avert my eyes, not wanting to give him the wrong idea. The only men I'm interested in are fictional.
Kieron groans beside me. "Oh, for fucks sake."
"What?"
"He's looking at you." Kieron frowns. "Great. That's all we need." He drains the rest of his cup with a sigh. "I'm going to the loo. Don't let him talk to you, yeah?"
"I'm not interested in anyone, you know that," I say without thinking.
But Kieron just shakes his head as he disappears into the crowd. "He'll try anyway."
I roll my eyes, turning back toward the kitchen?—
And find Roman Muller walking straight toward me.
Oh no.
He cuts through the crowd like he's done it a hundred times before, girls calling after him, guys slapping his shoulder, people shifting aside without him asking. Like the whole room knows he always gets what he wants.
And tonight, for whatever reason, that's apparently me.
I straighten, grip my cup tighter, suddenly aware of how my sweater clings to my arms, how my hair falls loose from the clip at my neck. My skin prickles as he approaches, his gaze never leaving mine, like I'm the only thing he sees in this crowd of bodies and noise.
He stops just in front of me, close enough I catch the faint mix of beer and aftershave, sweat and something else underneath, something almost...magnetic.
"Hi," he greets, voice low and lazy.
Up close, he's frustratingly handsome. His jaw is sharper than it has any right to be, lips still wet from the last girl's kiss, dark hair falling just messily enough to seem intentional. And those eyes? Emerald green and filled with sin before they flick down over me, then back up, lazily.
"You're new," he says, tilting his head. "I haven't seen you before."
New? I'm a senior, pal.
I sip my soda, trying to control my body's reaction. "Then maybe you weren't looking."
He laughs, teeth flashing. "Oh, sweetheart, I'm always looking."
I arch a brow. "And always finding, apparently." I gesture toward the kitchen, where the blonde and brunette notice his absence, their smiles fading into scowls, their arms crossed.
Wonderful.
He glances back, then shrugs, grin widening. "They'll live."
"Lucky them."
He steps closer, and my back brushes the wall. He doesn't touch me, but it feels like he might, like the air between us has grown heavier, thicker. My heart betrays me, thudding hard against my ribs.
"What's your name?" he asks, voice softer now, still threaded with that infuriating confidence.
I hesitate, wondering if giving this player my name is wise. He notices, and his grin turns smug.
"Come on," he coaxes. "Don't make me guess."
I meet his gaze, steady, willing my pulse to calm. "Ava."
He rolls the name on his tongue like he's tasting it. "Ava." A slow nod. "Yeah. Fits."
Jesus, the sound of my name on his lips…
"Fits what?"
"You." His smile turns slow, satisfied.
"Great," I reply flatly. "I'm just here because my best friend dragged me."
He glances around. "Where is she?"
A smile tugs at my lips. It’s amusing that he assumes I'm with a girl bestie.
"Bathroom."
He hums, eyes glinting. "So it's just you and me right now."
I press my lips together. I should shut this down—I really should. But I don’t.
Because despite knowing exactly what kind of guy he is, despite the girls still glaring from across the room—something about the way he looks at me makes it hard to move.
Those fucking eyes.
He leans closer, head tilted. "Let me take you out."
He’s direct, I’ll give him that.
I scoff. "Aren't you going to try to stick your tongue down my throat like you did with those girls?"
"I can if you want." He smirks while I stare at him like I'm bored even though my pulse skips at the idea.
I wave my hand to dismiss him.
His smirk drops—like one of his fangirl's panties, before he repeats, "Come out with me."
I laugh and ignore him, searching the room for Kieron.
Where is he?
"Ava," his voice commands my attention before I can stop it, my eyes locking onto his. "One date."
"Not happening."
"Why not?"
"Because I've read your type a thousand times before," I explain, lifting my cup to my lips, gaze steady on his, "and I always skip to the end."
He laughs, rich and warm and far too confident. "Then let me change the ending, Ava."
Before I can answer, Kieron materializes beside me, frowning.
"Am I interrupting something?" Kieron asks, eyebrows raised as his eyes flick between me and Roman.
Roman's gaze hardens, his grin fading. "Huh," he mutters, slow, eyes narrowing. "Is this your boyfriend?"
I blink. "No. This is Kieron. My best friend."
Roman hums, his eyes flicking over Kieron like he's sizing him up. "Best friend," he repeats, like he doesn't buy it. His smile turns lazy again, but with an edge beneath it now.
Kieron snorts. "Yeah, women and men can actually be friends; who knew?"
Roman's jaw flexes, that cool facade cracking for half a second. "Sure, pal." Then he narrows his eyes before glancing at me.
Kieron slides an arm around my shoulders, steering me away. "Come on, love. We've got better things to do."
I let him guide me, but as we walk away, I glance back over my shoulder.
Roman watches, no longer smiling, but he nods at me like this isn't over.
My gut tells me he’s right.
"Are you okay?" Kieron asks quietly, glancing down at me as he steers me toward the door. "What a dick."
I swallow, forcing a smile I don't quite feel. "Yeah. I'm fine."
But I still feel Roman's gaze burning into my back.
We slip out onto the porch, the night air cooler, clearer. I exhale a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
"What did he say?" Kieron asks, leaning against the railing, brows pulling together.
I glance over at him, hesitating. "He...asked if you were my boyfriend."
Kieron snorts, shaking his head. "American jocks—no imagination."
"You're not, though," I continue slowly, chewing the inside of my cheek. "My boyfriend."
He huffs a laugh. "Yeah, thanks for clarifying, love." But he won't quite meet my eyes.
I study him for a second, frowning. "Why would he think that?"
He rolls his eyes. "Like I said, he's got no imagination." He tips his cup to his lips, draining the last of it. "You're like my sister."
The words sound forced.
"Right," I agree, feeling relieved. Kieron is undeniably hot, but he's my best friend. I just don't see him like that.
He shifts beside me, jaw tightening. "What else did Muller say?"
I hesitate again. "That...he wanted to take me out."
Kieron stiffens, his mouth flattening into a thin line. "Right." His voice clips now, irritation threading through the syllable.
"It's nothing," I murmur, even though it doesn't feel like nothing.
Not anymore.
"Yeah," Kieron mutters, but it sounds more like a warning than agreement. "Stay away from him, Ava."
I nod.
But in the back of my mind, Roman's words replay, sticky and impossible to shake.
Then let me change the ending, Ava.