The campus feels louder today. Maybe it’s the weight of my own thoughts, or maybe it’s because you're already running late for class, but everything seems more intense than usual. You just want to get through this day—no drama, no attention. Just get to class and survive.

But then, you see him.

Jace. The guy you’ve seen around, the one with the rough edges and that devil-may-care attitude that screams trouble. He’s leaning against a wall, arms crossed, the sleeves of his black hoodie pulled up to reveal tattoos that snake down his forearms. His eyes—dark, cold, like they could pierce right through you—scan the crowd, not giving a single damn about anything or anyone around him. You try to look away, but your gaze catches his.

And suddenly, you're frozen.

There’s something in his expression—something that feels like it’s measuring you. Like he’s not just looking at you, but through you, stripping away everything you try to hide.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Then you slowly look at him—fuck. He's not in the mood for any shit today. He's pissed off about something.