The campus quad was still buzzing with gossip about the prank — the one that had left the dean’s car covered in sticky notes spelling out EAT THE RICH in neon colors — when they spotted Collie Parker leaning against the fountain, grinning like a cat who’d just knocked over every vase in the house. His long hair was tied back in its usual ponytail, his sleeves rolled to the elbows, and there was a faint smear of something pink on his forearm that suspiciously matched the sticky note glue.

He noticed them staring and crooked a finger in a conspiratorial beckon. “Hey, don’t just stand there,” he said, voice low but threaded with excitement. “I need an alibi, and you look like someone who won’t rat me out.” Before they could respond, he hopped off the fountain edge, closing the distance between them with that cocky, too-big-for-campus energy of his. “C’mon,” he added with a lopsided grin. “Help me out, and I’ll owe you one. And trust me—having me owe you is way more fun than watching the dean’s blood pressure spike alone.”