Page 53

I sigh, exasperated. “What are you doing, Eli? Seriously, you need to stop.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Stop what?”

I shove a hand through my hair, shaking my head. “Stop kissing me, stop messing with me. You’re the reason I’m stressed all the time. I didn’t ask for any of this. I am not fucking interested, okay? I should have never driven your car. I should have never come to your house. I shouldn’t have done any of it.”

His smile only widens, the bastard looking far too pleased with himself. “Princess, you don’t get it, do you?”

I glare at him, my pulse quickening with frustration. “No, I get it. And you need to stay away from me, okay? I don’t care if you think you have some sort of claim on me. I don’t want any of it.”

Eli tilts his head, eyes glinting with amusement. “Too bad. Already have my sights on you, princess.”

He takes a step closer, his face inches from mine, and then just to push every button I’ve got, he blows me a kiss, his lips curling into a smug grin.

I’m so pissed off I can barely speak. I feel like a storm’s rolling in.

“Don’t you dare—”

But he’s already walking off, fading into the distance, leaving me staring after him, wanting to throw something but knowing I’ll only embarrass myself.

“Asshole,” I mutter under my breath, too pissed to even care if anyone hears.

He’s right. I do get it. But it’s also the last thing I ever want.

The library is quiet, the kind of stillness that makes you hyper-aware of every little sound — the shuffle of a page, the hum of the AC, the occasional cough from someone trying not to break the spell. My notebook is open, the header scrawled in bold.Case Study: The Impact of Childhood Trauma on Adult Relationships.

It’s heavy, but I’ve always been drawn to the harder topics. There’s something about peeling back layers of human behavior that feels necessary. Like understanding the messiness of people might make them easier to handle.

My phone vibrates on the table.

Aaron texted me. I huff, rolling my eyes.

Miss you, Sienna.

A bad feeling hits my gut.

Don’t fucking text me.

I block his number and find myself glancing toward the door. Hoping. And for what?

Eli isn’t here.

Why would he show up here of all places?

I shake my head and force my focus back on the textbook in front of me, underlining a passage about attachment theory. The words blur after a while, and I give up, stuffing my things into my bag.

As I’m leaving, though, the universe decides to mess with me again.

I turn a corner too fast and nearly crash into someone.

“Shit!” I yelp, stumbling back.

It’s Caleb.

His eyes flick over me, but he doesn’t say a word. Just stares, his jaw tight.

I throw my hands up. “Seriously? Do you have a radar or something? Why is it always you?”

He still doesn’t respond, just brushes past me like I don’t exist.