There were whispers everywhere the next morning. Loud ones. Hushed ones. Some that followed Maya into the hallway like perfume she didn't wear.
By the time she reached her classroom, she already knew. The kiss had gone viral.
Not just campus-viral. Online viral.
Her name was trending on UniTok. There was a slow-motion video with sparkles added to the moment Damien leaned in. There were screenshots of Logan's face when it happened—someone had zoomed in on the exact second his jaw clenched.
Someone even made a meme:
"When your ex gets upgraded to the better brother."
Maya sank into her seat, tugging her hoodie lower over her face. Her phone buzzed non-stop.
Claire:People are calling you a queen for letting Damien kiss you like that omg.
Brianna:Logan's literally spiraling. Heard he threw his drink at a wall last night.
Unknown Number:You're disgusting. He's still your ex's brother. Have some shame.
She turned off her phone.
Her fingers trembled slightly, but she pressed her palms flat on the desk to steady them. She hadn't meant for any of it to happen. Not the breakup. Not the kiss. Especially not the kiss.
But what scared her most wasn't the fallout.
It was how that kiss had made her feel.
Damien's lips had left something behind—something electric. Something that made her feel seen in a way she hadn't felt in months. Years, maybe.
The seat beside her shifted. A girl she barely knew leaned closer.
"You're trending on three platforms," she whispered. "Even people from other campuses are talking about it."
Maya didn't respond.
"You kissed Damien Cross," the girl continued, voice hushed with awe. "Do you know how many people have tried to get his attention?"
"It wasn't like that," Maya muttered.
"Whatever it was, it looked real."
It had felt real. That was the problem.
After class, as students filtered out, her professor called her name.
"Maya Rivers?"
She paused in the doorway and turned.
The woman gave her a smile that was too tight to be kind. "Can you stay for a moment?"
She nodded numbly.
Thirty minutes later, the room was empty. Her professor folded her arms.
"I don't usually step into students' personal lives," she said. "But when those lives start affecting my classroom, we have a problem."
Maya blinked. "What?"
"There was a group of students outside my door filming earlier. You're attracting attention, Maya. The wrong kind."
"I didn't ask for any of this."
"I know," the woman said gently. "But you're smart. Keep your head down. Focus on your future. Drama fades. Transcripts don't."
Maya nodded slowly. "Thanks."
When she finally left the room, the whispers started again. She walked fast. Kept her eyes low. She barely noticed the boy who followed her out into the courtyard until he caught up beside her.
"Maya."
She stopped.
Logan.
His face was hard. Tense. Jaw clenched.
"What do you want?" she asked flatly.
"You kissed him?"
She folded her arms. "You mean your brother?"
"You let him touch you in front of everyone. Right after I broke up with you."
"You dumped me in public, Logan."
"That doesn't mean—"
She raised an eyebrow. "Doesn't mean what?"
"You were supposed to care!"
"I did care," she snapped. "For two years, I cared. And you dropped me like I was nothing. You replaced me before I even had a chance to breathe. So don't stand here demanding loyalty you never gave me."
Logan looked like he'd been slapped.
"She's nothing compared to you," he muttered.
Maya scoffed, her voice sharp. "Then why'd you choose her?"
He looked away.
"No, really," she pressed. "Why? If I was so much more, why wasn't I enough?"
"I—I don't know. Maybe I thought I wanted easy. You were never easy."
"I was loyal," she corrected. "I was real. That scared you."
Logan stepped closer, voice low. "He's not doing this for you."
"I didn't ask him to."
"He's doing it to mess with me. You're just a tool, Maya. He'll get bored."
She flinched. It felt like being slapped again, just with words.
"You were mine," he said, voice low. "He just wants to ruin what I had."
Her voice shook. "Then maybe you shouldn't have thrown me away."
He stared at her, fists clenched. "Are you sleeping with him now?"
"Get out of my face, Logan."
She pushed past him, heart racing, vision blurring. Her footsteps echoed down the hallway like gunshots. She needed air. She needed space. She needed silence.
But silence didn't come.
She got back to her dorm and slammed the door shut behind her. Her roommate, Tessa, looked up from her bed.
"You okay?" she asked, wide-eyed.
"No."
"Everyone's talking about it."
Maya didn't answer. She kicked off her shoes and sat on the edge of her bed, gripping the mattress to stop her hands from shaking.
"Was it real?" Tessa asked quietly.
Maya closed her eyes. "I don't know."
That night, she couldn't sleep.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Logan's scowl. Then Damien's smirk. Then the kiss. The heat of it. The way his hand had curled around her waist like he'd done it before in another life.
By morning, she was exhausted. The sun hadn't even risen yet when she finally gave up and grabbed her bag, heading to the one place she could breathe.
The library.
She was alone when she arrived. Rows of silent shelves. The smell of old books. Dust. Ink.
She tucked herself into the back corner, between history and philosophy, and dropped her head onto her notebook.
Maybe if she hid long enough, the world would forget about her.
Maybe she could forget, too.
A shadow fell across her table.
She looked up—and her stomach flipped.
Damien Cross leaned against the shelf like he'd been waiting for her all night. One hand in his pocket. Hoodie half-zipped. Hair slightly tousled like he'd run his fingers through it a hundred times.
"I was wondering when you'd show up," she muttered.
"You knew I would?"
"No," she admitted. "But part of me hoped you wouldn't."
He tilted his head. "Why?"
"Because I haven't stopped thinking about that kiss. And I don't know if I want to."
Damien's eyes darkened.
"You kissed me in front of everyone," she said, voice low. "You used me."
"Did I?"
She looked away. "Didn't you?"
He stepped closer, stopping just a foot from her. "I gave you a choice. You didn't push me away."
"That doesn't mean it wasn't reckless."
"I'm not the careful type."
"I noticed."
Damien leaned down slightly, his voice brushing against her ear like smoke. "You're angry with me."
"I should be."
"But you're not."
She turned to face him. "You're his brother."
"And?"
"You've never spoken to me before."
"You were taken."
Her breath caught.
He straightened, eyes fixed on hers. "But you're not anymore. So if you're scared… say so."
"I'm not scared."
"Then don't act like you are."
She stared at him. "What do you want from me, Damien?"
He didn't answer right away. Then, with a quiet intensity that made her chest flutter, he said, "I want you to stop pretending you didn't feel anything when I kissed you."
Silence stretched between them.
Maya reached for her pen, pretending to write something. Anything.
But her hand wouldn't stop trembling.
Her phone buzzed.
She ignored it.
Damien stepped back, but not far enough. His gaze still pinned her like a secret she hadn't meant to tell.
"You're not the victim here, Maya," he said. "You're the storm. You just haven't figured it out yet."
And then he was gone again. Like smoke. Like he'd never been there at all.
Maya sat frozen, her pulse thudding wildly in her throat.
She hated how right he felt.
She hated that her lips still remembered him.
And she hated that part of her didn't care what Logan thought anymore.
Because something inside her was changing. Cracking. Rebuilding.
And it had everything to do with Damien Cross.