The cursor blinked across Stacy Bennett's laptop screen.
Mocking her.
She sighed for what had to be the hundredth time and leaned back in the uncomfortable desk chair. Three hours. Three hours she'd been staring at the same psychology essay, and she'd written exactly one paragraph.
"Productive," she muttered.
The silence in her dorm room lasted all of three seconds before the door burst open.
"Stacy!"
She didn't even flinch.
"I know that tone," she said without looking up. "Whatever you're about to ask, the answer is no."
Emma dropped her backpack onto the floor with a dramatic groan.
"You didn't even let me finish."
"I don't have to."
Emma walked over and slammed both hands onto the desk.
"It's the Blackwood Welcome Party."
"No."
"The biggest party of the semester."
"No."
"The entire campus will be there."
"Still no."
Emma narrowed her eyes.
"You've been on campus for two days."
"Correct."
"You've made exactly one friend."
"Also correct."
"You've left this room twice."
"I like my room."
"You like hiding."
Stacy finally looked up.
"I like peace."
Emma folded her arms.
"You know what? I'm tired of watching you become one with that chair."
"I'm studying."
Emma glanced at the blank document.
"You're pretending to study."
"...That's beside the point."
"No, it's exactly the point."
Stacy rubbed her temples.
"I don't do parties."
"Why?"
"They're loud."
"So?"
"People are there."
Emma stared.
"You do realize Blackwood University has approximately twenty thousand students, right?"
"I'm aware."
"You can't avoid all of them."
"I can certainly try."
Emma grinned.
"Challenge accepted."
Before Stacy could react, Emma reached over, grabbed her laptop, and snapped it shut.
"Emma!"
"No homework."
"Give it back."
"Nope."
"You're unbelievable."
"I've heard that."
Emma pointed toward the closet.
"You have exactly fifteen minutes."
"For what?"
"To get dressed."
"I'm not going."
Emma smiled sweetly.
"Oh, you are."
Forty-five minutes later, Stacy was questioning every life decision that had led her here.
Music pulsed through the enormous stone mansion overlooking Blackwood University's campus.
Students crowded every room.
Laughter echoed from somewhere upstairs.
Someone was already dancing on a table.
"It's barely nine," Stacy said.
Emma shrugged.
"Welcome to Blackwood."
Stacy took one cautious step inside.
"This looks expensive."
"It is."
"Who owns a house like this?"
Emma lowered her voice.
"One of the Ashfords."
Stacy frowned.
"The Ashfords?"
"You seriously don't know?"
"I've been here two days."
Emma looked horrified.
"They basically own half the city."
"Oh."
"And their son goes here."
"Oh."
"That's all you have to say?"
"What am I supposed to say?"
Emma looked ready to explain when the conversations around them suddenly quieted.
Not completely.
Just enough.
Students instinctively moved aside.
Heads turned toward the entrance.
Curious, Stacy followed their gaze.
A tall young man stepped through the front doors.
Dark hair.
Sharp jawline.
Tailored black jacket.
He wasn't smiling.
Yet somehow every eye in the room followed him anyway.
"That's Lucien Ashford," Emma whispered.
Stacy watched him for a moment.
"He looks... serious."
"He always does."
"He doesn't seem to enjoy parties."
Emma laughed.
"He probably doesn't."
Lucien acknowledged a few people with brief nods before continuing deeper into the mansion.
No dramatic entrance.
No loud greetings.
Yet the room seemed to revolve around him.
Stacy looked away first.
"I don't get the hype."
Emma blinked.
"You don't?"
"He's handsome."
"That's it?"
"He's just a guy."
Emma laughed so hard she nearly spilled her drink.
"You are either the bravest person at Blackwood..."
"...or the only one who isn't trying to impress him."
Stacy accepted a glass of fruit punch from a nearby table.
"I vote for option two."
As she turned
Someone stepped into her path.
"Oh!"
The cup slipped from her fingers.
For a split second, it hung in the air.
Then another hand caught it before it hit the floor.
Not a single drop spilled.
Stacy looked up.
Straight into gray eyes.
Lucien Ashford.
He handed the cup back without saying anything.
"Thanks," Stacy said, embarrassed.
"Our first week and I'm already trying to destroy someone's carpet."
One corner of his mouth almost lifted.
"That would have been unfortunate."
His voice was calm.
Low.
Unexpectedly warm.
"I'm Stacy."
There was the briefest pause.
"Lucien."
"I figured."
A flicker of surprise crossed his face.
"You've become kind of impossible to miss."
For the first time all evening, Lucien almost smiled.
"I'll take that as a compliment."
"You should."
She accepted her drink.
"Thanks again."
Then she walked away.
Lucien didn't move.
His fingers still tingled where they'd brushed hers.
A strange warmth spread through his chest.
Not painful.
Not familiar.
Just... impossible.
Someone called his name.
He didn't answer.
His gaze remained fixed on the girl disappearing into the crowd.
Who... are you?