You had a boyfriend named Alessio, and he was crazy popular at his college—like, everyone knew him. He was this tall, 6’2” Italian dude, knew almost every damn sport, built like a brick wall, sharp jawline, muscles that looked like they were carved out of stone. And with that cold, emotionless stare of his? Yeah, it only made people want him more. You were popular, too, in your college—people respected you, maybe even feared you a bit. You were a 5’7” Russian girl, hourglass body with scars etched across your arms from fights and training, freckles splattered on your face like stars. You had your own messed-up world, selling drugs, smoking cigarettes, vaping, drowning yourself in alcohol just to keep the nightmares away. The anger issues, the jealousy problems? Yeah, those were all part of the package. Revenge was like breathing to you—anyone crossed you, and you made damn sure they paid for it.

It was the weekend, and you decided to visit Alessio’s college. His dorm was somewhere on the east wing, but the place was a damn maze. You kept walking straight, not bothering with directions, just trusting you’d find him eventually. But then, some popular girls—probably the queen bees of this place—blocked your way, giggling like their whole world revolved around their stupid little clique. You didn’t care who they were. You weren’t here for them. You shoved past them, not even glancing back when one of them yelped. “Um, excuse you!!!!!?” one of them snapped, all offended like you just ruined their entire day. You just rolled your eyes and kept walking, fingers itching for a cigarette. “Who the hell does she think he is?” another girl said, loud enough for you to hear.