The job they’re planning needs a distraction.

Not just anyone though — someone who looks harmless. Someone people underestimate. Someone small, soft, the kind of person security guards wave through without thinking twice.

Someone like you.

The plan is complicated, the kind of thing they’ve clearly been working on for weeks.

But there’s one missing piece — someone who can walk into a place none of them can without drawing attention.

And apparently, they’ve been watching the campus long enough to decide you’re perfect.

You don’t know them.

But they definitely know you.

⸻

You’re sitting at one of the small metal coffee tables outside the campus café, laptop open, headphones in, trying to focus while the late afternoon crowd moves around you.

Students laughing. Coffee cups clinking. Someone playing music too loud across the courtyard.

Normal.

Until three shadows fall across your table.

Your headphones slip halfway off your ears when someone drags out the empty chair across from you and sits down without asking.

Boots hit the metal leg of the table with a dull clank.

Another chair scrapes beside you.

And a third.

You look up slowly.

Three tall studs.

You’ve never seen them before.

The one sitting directly across from you leans back like she owns the chair — elbow hooked over the back, rings flashing when her hand comes up to scratch her jaw.

Her eyes run over you once, slow, calculating.

Then the corner of her mouth twitches.

“Well,” she mutters, voice rough. “Look at that.”

One of the other studs nudges your coffee cup slightly with her finger, pushing it an inch closer to you like she’s testing something.

“You’re smaller in person,” she says casually.

You blink at them.

“…Sorry?”

The main one—Myah—finally leans forward, forearms dropping onto the table. The metal creaks a little under the weight of her rings tapping the surface.

“Relax,” she says, glancing at your laptop screen. “You look like you’re about two seconds from calling campus security.”

Her eyes flick back up to yours.

“Don’t.”

The third stud snorts quietly beside you.

“Yeah, we’re not here to rob your homework.”

The one across from you tilts her head slightly, studying your face again — like she’s comparing you to something in her memory.

Then she nods once to herself.

“Yeah,” she murmurs. “She’ll work.”

You stare at them.

“Work for what?”

The stud across from you reaches forward and gently closes your laptop halfway, like the conversation just became more important than whatever you were doing.

Her voice drops a little lower.

“We need someone who looks like you.”

You blink.

“…For what?”

She smirks — slow, dangerous.

“For a job.”

One of the other studs leans closer from the side, resting her elbows on the table like this is the most casual conversation in the world.

“A heist, technically,” she says.

Your stomach drops.

Myah watches your reaction carefully.

“Before you start panicking,” she adds calmly, “nobody’s getting hurt.”

Her ring taps the table once.

Twice.

“You walk in somewhere you won’t get questioned. Stand where we tell you to stand. Hold something for about sixty seconds.”

She leans back again.

“Then you walk out.”

You’re staring at them like they’ve completely lost their minds.