Page 16

Nic

The nearly empty campus cafe reeks of burnt coffee and fryer grease—the kind of staleness that clings to your hair and clothes if you stay too long.

Barry practically throws me into a chair, then collapses across from me, knees bouncing under the table, fingers twitching like he’s barely keeping an existential crisis at bay.

Between the lecture hall and here, he’s somehow managed to download Kai’s—Chase Mitchell’s entire life history.

“He’s not just anyone, Nic. He’s the Chase Mitchell. Tell me you’re kidding—you didn’t actually fuck him.”

I drop my elbows on the table and press my hands to my face, debating how much to say. Technically, I didn’t fuck him—but then, the not-quite-fucking that happened was way worse. Intimate. Sinful.

“No,” I mumble into my palms. “I’m not kidding.”

Barry stares at me like I’ve just confessed to ritual sacrifice. Then his gaze grows suspicious. “Did you know who he was when I dared you to talk to him at the fundraiser?”

I hesitate. There’s no way I’m explaining that. “I . . . eventually worked it out.”

Barry’s slow nod says he doesn’t buy it, but he lets it slide. “And what about him? Think he remembers you?”

I huff out a dry, humorless laugh. “It’s been one night, Barry. You think I’m that forgettable?”

Barry winces. “No, that’s not what I meant. It’s just . . . it didn’t seem like he knew who you were. Like, at all.”

I shrug, not trusting myself to respond. Because telling Barry why I think Kai could pass a lie detector while strangling someone would open doors I’m not ready to walk through.

Suddenly, Barry leans forward, eyes gleaming. “So, what are you gonna do?”

“Besides dropping his class and switching to Global Management?”

“I knew you’d say that. Well, you can’t. Enrolment window’s closed for the semester. Besides, you’re missing the opportunity here.”

I frown. “What opportunity?”

“To pull your GPA out of the sewer.”

“I don’t think I like where this is going Barry—”

“Just listen for a sec.” He spreads his hands like he’s unveiling the secrets of the universe. “Keoni’s gone. In his place? We get a millionaire mogul. Keoni flunks 60% of his students for fun. But with Chase Mitchell?” Barry smirks. “We’re guaranteed to pass.”

“And you know this how?”

“He’s a brand whore, Nic. A marketing god. Guys like that are obsessed with success.”

Barry slowly spreads his hands in the air. “Picture it: Olympic Legend Rescues Failing Postgrads and Delivers A 100% Pass.”

Actually, he might have a point there. Before I can respond, his gaze flicks past me—and his smirk fades.

“Awk—ward,” he singsongs.

Oh no. A cold prickle slides down my spine.

Please don’t let it be him. Please don’t—

“Hey, man.” Barry shifts into a fake–casual tone he reserves for . . .

Relief floods me—and with it, a rush of disappointment I refuse to unpack. It’s not Kai.

Theo slides into the seat beside me, just as Barry shoves back his chair.

“I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it.” Barry shoots me his ‘this isn’t finished’ glare.

“Hey, where are you going?” I ask.

Barry looks pointedly from Theo to me and back again, then shakes his head as if I’m being slow. “Anyway my lips will be glued on to Mitchell’s ass for the rest of the day, if anyone asks for me.”

I blanch. He’s going back to see Kai? “Barry, you can’t do that—”

“Oh, I can, and should. Someone needs to smooth things over.” He winks. “You and I made a spectacular first—ahem—second impression, Nic.”

And just like that, he’s gone in a cloud of floral cologne and impending disaster. I gnaw on my lip, already dreading Barry’s version of damage control.

Theo shifts beside me, his knee bumping mine under the table. “I’ll handle Mitchell if he gives you any trouble, okay?

I’ve never wanted to laugh in anyone’s face as much as I do right now, but I keep it together.

“We need to talk,” Theo begins when I remain silent.

I nod. “Agreed.”

His hand reaches for mine, his thumb stroking light circles. His hand is warm. Familiar. Safe.

Too safe.

I used to crave that—the predictability. The comfort. But now? Safe feels empty.

Memories ambush me again—his weight pinning me to the mattress, his breath scraping my neck, his cock nestled between my ass cheeks, his voice like smoke and sin—

I snatch my hand away from Theo’s like his touch burns. “This is insane.”

Theo rolls his eyes. “Believe me when I say it’s not half as bad as it looks.”

I blink. “What?”

He won’t meet my eyes, instead, he looks across the cafe at the group of freshmen giggling over frappes, their carefree laughter cutting through the tension.

“The video. That’s why you ran out, right? Barry showed you.”

The air freezes around me.

“What video?”

A muscle ticks in his jaw. “Wait, you . . . haven’t seen it?”

“Seen what?” My voice climbs an octave.

Worst-case scenarios flood my mind—security cam leaks, a hotel employee recognizing Kai as he leads me into The Solaire, some blurry TMZ headline.

Theo sighs, then punches away on his phone. “Check your messages.”

My hands tremble as I unlock my screen.

How bad is it?

My stomach makes way into my throat as the video slowly loads.

Finally, the playback starts.

A crowded frat party. Familiar faces—shirtless guys. Drunk girls. Someone funneling beer. And right there, in the middle of the chaos is—

Theo.

Relief hits like a punch. It’s him, not me.

But then I see her. Skinny. Brunette. Massive tits—Theo’s type.

She’s moaning, riding him like a fucking carnival attraction while his friends cheer.

A bitter laugh bubbles up before I can swallow it. Same old story. Different girl.

Valencia’s gossip mill will feast on this. But maybe, just maybe, being the cheated-on fiancée will earn me a little sympathy after the Bella incident.

“Was she the one who gave you the hickey?” I ask, not because I care—but because saying nothing would make me seem cold. And showing relief . . . now that would be crazy.

Before he can answer, my phone pings with a new email notification.

From: Chase Mitchell

Subject: (no subject)

Message: 1489 Limerick Street. Thirty minutes.

The air leaves my lungs. Heat curls low in my belly and spreads out, twisting through my veins like molten honey.

My body is already reacting, pushing away from the table before my mind catches up.

Wait, what the fuck am I doing?

I should stay and finish this conversation with Theo.

I can’t, though.

“It’s fine, Theo. I meant what I said. We’re done.”

Theo’s brow creases. “You keep saying that, Nic. Are you not even going to fight for us?”

“There’s nothing left to fight for, Theo.” I turn away, leaving him sputtering.

A few curious stares as I weave between tables make me realize the video is still playing in my hand—rhythmic moans spilling from my phone.

My fingers stab at the screen, killing the sound as more heads turn. Still, I don’t stop.

Everything else is fading into white noise, the staring students, Theo, the video, the whole goddamn mess — none of it matters.

Because right now, only five words do.

1489 Limerick Street. Thirty minutes.