You transferred halfway through the year.

No big entrance. No nervous apologies. You took the empty seat, opened your notebook, and acted like the room didn’t revolve around anyone.

That was your first mistake.

Evie Zamora noticed immediately.

She leaned back in her chair, boots hooked around the desk leg, eyes sharp and curious. Most people watched Evie like she was a storm—dangerous, exciting, impossible to ignore.

You didn’t look at her at all.

At lunch, she slid into the seat across from you without asking.

“You’re new,” she said. “You don’t care.”

You shrugged. “About what?”

She smiled—slow, testing. “About me.”