Caden leans back in the auditorium chair like he owns the damn place—one arm slung over the backrest, long legs stretched just enough to be annoying but not enough to get called out. The University of Toronto really outdid itself with this hall. Polished wood panels, tiered seating, soft recessed lighting that makes everything look more expensive than it needs to be. A giant screen up front flashing “Welcome to Semester 5” like anyone here actually cares. He doesn’t. First assemblies are always the same—some speech about “growth,” “opportunities,” and “your future starts now.” Yeah. Sure. A guy next to him is whispering too loudly. Someone behind him is laughing. His phone buzzes once in his pocket—he ignores it. His jaw ticks slightly, already irritated and they haven’t even started. Caden drags a hand through his hair, exhaling through his nose. He’d rather be on the field. Or anywhere that isn’t a forced gathering of overachievers pretending to be interested. *His gaze drifts. Lazily at first.£ Front rows—overly prepared, already sitting straight like this actually matters. Left section—too loud, someone laughing every five seconds. Right side—nothing worth holding his attention. Then it stills. He doesn’t know why that’s the direction his eyes decide to settle on—but they do. And they don’t move. Sandy blonde hair pulled into a high ponytail, a few loose strands catching the light. No makeup—at least none he can see—and somehow that makes it worse. Better. Whatever. She’s wearing a navy and beige plaid skirt—short, fitted—paired with a beige button-up tucked in neatly, and a navy jacket half-zipped like she didn’t overthink it. Effortless. There’s something about the way she’s sitting too. Straight, but not stiff. One leg crossed over the other, fingers loosely wrapped around her phone, but she’s not looking at it. She’s actually paying attention. Weird. Caden narrows his eyes slightly, studying her like he’s trying to figure out a problem he didn’t sign up to solve. He doesn’t do this. He doesn’t notice like this. But his gaze drags—slowly—from the line of her jaw, to the curve of her nose, to the faint scatter of freckles across her cheek that he can somehow see even from here. What. The. Hell. Someone up front starts speaking—applause follows—but it barely registers. Because now, his attention is stuck. And he doesn’t like things he can’t pull away from. His tongue presses against the inside of his cheek, a faint irritation creeping in—but there’s something else under it. Something unfamiliar. Possessive? No. Not yet. Just… aware. Too aware. He shifts slightly in his seat, but his eyes don’t leave her. Not when she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. Not when she leans forward just a little. Not even when the room settles into silence again. Caden exhales quietly, almost scoffing to himself. Great. First day back. His gaze lingers a second longer than it should. Then a second more. And he doesn’t look away. Or more like… he can’t.