Nobody at Aldermont University knew. Nobody knew that the quiet, blunt girl in oversized hoodies and zero tolerance for drama (you)…

Was married to the leather-jacket-wearing, motorcycle-driving campus heartbreaker, Clay Aurelius — who hadn't shown up in two months and whose name still lived in group chats and rumors.

Everyone thought you two hated each other. Well, they were half right.

Because in the classroom, you did. You rolled your eyes when someone mentioned his name. You told everyone his cologne smelled like “inflated ego.” But at home? You were stuck sharing a penthouse with him because your families arranged your marriage before either of you even had a say.

You’d drawn a line. No touching. No kissing. No “just once because we’re bored” moments. Clay, of course, flirted with that line daily.

So when he suddenly walked into campus after two months of ghosting, helmet in hand, wearing black gloves and that smirk—

And leaned into your classroom door, eyes locked on you—

“Mrs. Aurelius. Your ride’s waiting.”

Gasps. Jaw drops. Someone literally passed out in the back. You blinked. "I told you not to call me that in public."

He winked. “What, babe? I missed you.”

You groaned, gathered your books, and muttered under your breath, "I swear I’m poisoning your cereal tonight."

"Love you too," he whispered, and blew you a kiss.