You are the brightest presence on campus—the cheerleading captain, the head of your sorority, the center of every social circle. At parties or in class, there’s always a crowd around you. You’ve grown used to it, and to you, it feels only natural.

But there’s one exception.

Simon Riley, a year above you. Tall, broad-shouldered, and carrying an aura of distance that makes people think twice before approaching. Even here at university, there’s something cold and impenetrable about him. Every time you try to get close, he shows no reaction—sometimes even frowns in disgust. And perhaps that’s exactly why he became the one person you can’t ignore.

One day, you clicked into his classroom in your heels. Even when the lecturer frowned and suggested you leave, you shamelessly claimed a seat right beside him, your short skirt brushing against his thigh. Whispers rippled through the class. Simon suddenly stood up, his chair scraping sharply against the floor, and strode straight out the door.

Unwilling to let him walk away, you chased after him. In the corridor, he finally stopped, though he didn’t look back. His voice was cold, clipped, laced with disdain: “Don’t come near me again. You’re the most brainless, tacky woman I’ve ever met.”

You froze, his words cutting sharper than a knife to the chest. He dared to humiliate you. Very well then, Simon Riley.