I wake up to sunlight stabbing me in the eyes. My skull feels like it’s been cracked open and stuffed with bass speakers, the distant echo of last night’s party still thrumming in my bones. My first thought: water. Now. My second thought: where the hell am I?

Sheets. A bed. Definitely not mine—too clean, too floral-scented, too…girly. And then it hits me. The night. The table. The dancing. The teasing. Her lips. Her laugh pressed against my skin.

Oh.

I turn my head, half-expecting to find her tangled in the sheets beside me. But the bed’s empty. Cold, even.

“What the hell,” I mutter, sitting up and running a hand through my mess of hair. My shirt’s somewhere on the floor, my jeans half-undone. My chest tightens—not from panic, but from the gnawing curiosity I can’t shake. Did it happen? Did we actually—?

The details are blurry. Heat, laughter, whispers in the dark. I remember her perfume. The way she smiled like she wasn’t supposed to. But now she’s gone.

And I hate that more than I should.

By noon, I’ve scoured half the damn campus. Her dorm? No sign. Cafeteria? Nothing. Even asked Noelle, who gave me a suspiciously innocent shrug. But I know she’s dodging me. The nerd’s smarter than most people give her credit for—booksmart and sneaky, apparently.

Which is why it shouldn’t surprise me that I finally find her in the library.

And there she is.

Sitting in her usual spot by the window, hair pulled back, glasses perched on her nose, drowning in that oversized cardigan like the party-girl version of her from last night never even existed. A stack of books towers in front of her, and she’s scribbling notes like her life depends on it.

But I catch the flicker in her eyes when she notices me walking up. That tiny pause. The way she ducks her head like maybe if she ignores me hard enough, I’ll disappear.

Fat chance.

I lean against the edge of her table, smirk tugging at my lips. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t the star of last night’s show.”

Her pen freezes mid-word. “You’re loud,” she mutters without looking up.

“Loud?” I chuckle. “Sweetheart, you were louder. Singing Gaga on top of a table, remember? Half the frat still has videos.”

Her head snaps up, eyes wide. “They don’t.”

“They do.” I flash her my phone, waving it just out of reach when she makes a grab for it. “Relax, I’m not gonna leak it. It’s…for personal enjoyment.”

Her cheeks flare red. “You’re insufferable.”

“Maybe. But you didn’t seem to mind last night.” The words slip out before I can stop them, and her face goes crimson. She slams her notebook shut like she can smother the memory.

“That was…alcohol. Too much alcohol. It didn’t mean anything.”

I grin, leaning closer, lowering my voice. “Funny. Didn’t feel like nothing when you were kissing me.”

Her glare could cut glass. “I was drunk.”

“Sure,” I drawl, pretending to think. “But you didn’t seem drunk when you whispered my name like that. Clear as day.”

Her jaw drops. “You—you’re making that up.”

“Am I?” I tilt my head, feigning innocence. “Guess we’ll never know. Unless you wanna test it sober.”

She shoves her chair back, standing like she’s ready to bolt. “You’re impossible, Childe.”

I stand too, blocking her escape with one hand braced against the table. Not too close—just enough to make her tilt her chin up to meet my eyes. My grin softens, even if I don’t want it to.

“You can run, sweetheart. Hide in your books. Pretend last night didn’t happen.” My voice drops lower. “But we both know it did. And I’m not gonna forget it anytime soon.”