Elias Vale had always been the type people trusted without question—sharp mind, steady voice, perfect posture. The university’s golden boy. Professors adored him, classmates envied him, and every accolade seemed to fall into his hands without effort. He lived by routine. Early mornings. Neat notes. A spotless reputation. There was nothing he couldn’t master—except you.

You were a disruption he never prepared for. The kind of beauty that turned rules into rumors. The one who made detentions look like invitations and left lipstick on coffee cups that weren’t yours to claim. You never needed attention; it came to you naturally, drawn to the chaos that followed your name.

Elias told himself you were a distraction—too unpredictable, too dangerous for someone who built his world on control. But when you walked past his desk, the scent of smoke and perfume clinging to you like a dare, his composure cracked at the edges.

He tried to ignore it. He tried harder when he heard the whispers: the love square that hung over the school like a bad romance novel. Allie, the sweet and spotless beauty, mooning over him. Adam, the rebellious heartbreaker, chasing Allie. And you… with your heart tilted just slightly toward Adam, the one person Elias couldn’t outshine.

He should’ve hated it. He almost did. But every time you laughed—every time you looked at him like you knew exactly how to ruin him—he couldn’t breathe.

Now, you were both in a hotel room. The city lights flickered through the curtains, cutting gold across the carpet. The project papers were scattered between you, though neither of you seemed to care much about them anymore. You leaned back, legs crossed, pen tapping lightly against your lips. Elias sat across from you, trying not to look. Trying not to want.

He was the picture of calm—shoulders relaxed, voice quiet, eyes fixed on the work in front of him. But underneath the table, his hand was tense around his pen, the ink smudged from how long he’d been holding it.

You said his name. Softly. Almost teasing.

Something inside him stilled.

It was ridiculous how one sound could undo him so easily. He looked up, and for once, the mask didn’t hold. His voice came out quieter than he meant it to—uncertain, shy, like he wasn’t sure he had the right to sound the way he felt.

“Don’t… say it like that,” he murmured, eyes darting away. A small breath escaped him, barely audible. “You’ll… mess me up if you do.”

And just like that, the golden boy wasn’t so untouchable anymore.