If there's one thing I promised myself before stepping foot on campus this fall, it was this: I would live quietly.
Not just "quiet" in the sense of whispering in the library, but quiet in the way that no one notices you, the kind of quiet where you can slip into class, take notes, and slip out before anyone registers you were there. I wanted peace. A fresh start.
No drama. No distractions. No him.
The him in question being Austin Ray the bane of my existence since sophomore year of high school.
I told myself it was impossible that I'd ever have to deal with him again. After all, what were the chances we'd end up at the same college out of all the schools in the country? But, as the universe seems to delight in reminding me, my luck is cursed.
Because the second I walked into orientation, there he was.
Leaning against a pillar like it was a photoshoot backdrop, laughing with a group of guys who looked like they'd been pulled straight out of a sportswear ad. His hair was a little longer than I remembered, sun-kissed at the edges like he'd spent the entire summer on a beach. His jawline was sharper, his smile cockier, and when he laughed, heads turned.
Of course they did. Austin Ray had always been magnetic in that infuriating, larger-than-life way. In high school, he was the guy who won every game, every award, every teacher's favorite-child badge of honor. He was also the guy who lived to ruin my life, whether by pulling a prank, spreading some nickname that stuck for months, or simply existing too loudly in the same space as me.
And now he was here. At my college. At my fresh start.
I ducked my head and kept walking, hugging my orientation folder against my chest like it might act as a shield. If I moved fast enough, maybe he wouldn't notice me. Maybe I could just
"Hazel Brown."
His voice carried across the crowd like a spotlight finding me. I froze. The use of my full name was deliberate he always did that. Like he wanted to announce me to the world.
I turned slowly, my stomach dropping. His eyes met mine from across the courtyard, and his smile curved into that signature half-grin I'd hated since I was fifteen.
"You've got to be kidding me," I muttered under my breath.
But Austin didn't give me a chance to escape. He excused himself from his new group of admirers and strolled toward me with all the confidence of someone who knew every head was swiveling to watch him. Which they were. Because of course, he wasn't just attractive he was obnoxiously attractive. The kind of guy who looked like he belonged on a glossy cover, not in a real-life college quad.
And I? I was suddenly very aware that my hair was frizzing in the humidity and that I had a coffee stain on my shirt from my rushed morning. Perfect.
"Well, well, well." Austin stopped right in front of me, tilting his head. His grin widened. "If it isn't my favorite person."
"Don't flatter yourself," I shot back, crossing my arms. "We're not friends."
His eyes flicked over me, amused, like he was cataloging every piece of irritation I gave off. "You wound me, Hazel. After all our history?"
"Exactly. History. As in the past. As in let's leave it there."
He chuckled, and the sound sent a ripple through the students passing by. A few girls glanced at me curiously, like they wanted to know why he was talking to me.
And that was exactly the problem.
I could already feel the attention settling over me like a heavy blanket. Whispers. Side glances. Questions forming.
So much for quiet.
"Relax," Austin said, like he could read my mind. "I'm just surprised. Didn't think I'd see you here."
"Trust me, the feeling's mutual."
He had the audacity to look delighted by that. Like my irritation was his favorite flavor of candy.
Before I could push past him, the orientation leader shouted something about splitting into groups, and people started moving. Of course, fate decided to have one more laugh at my expense, because when I checked my badge for my group number and lifted my head.
Austin was holding up his badge, grinning. Same group.
I groaned out loud.
"Looks like we're stuck together," he said cheerfully, like he hadn't just ruined the one plan I had for my college experience: to stay invisible.
By the time we reached the group circle on the grass, I was already calculating ways to vanish without technically dropping out of college. Austin, meanwhile, fit in instantly. He cracked a joke that made everyone laugh, offered a hand to a shy-looking freshman, and within minutes had the whole group orbiting around him like he was the sun.
And me? I was sitting cross-legged on the grass, pretending to scribble something in my notebook while inwardly screaming. Because every time I thought I might fade into the background, Austin would somehow pull me right back into the spotlight.
"Hazel, remember that time in chemistry when you
"Hazel, tell them about your thing with
"Oh, Hazel's great at this, aren't you, Hazel?"
He said my name too often. Loudly. Clearly. Like he wanted everyone to notice me, even though the last thing I wanted was attention.
By the time the session ended, I was ready to commit murder.
When we stood to leave, I grabbed his arm before he could follow his new fan club. "What the hell are you doing?" I hissed.
He blinked innocently down at me. "What do you mean?"
"You know exactly what I mean. You're dragging me into your spotlight, and I don't want it."
His smirk softened just slightly, like he found this more entertaining than any game. "You think I'm dragging you? Hazel, you're the one people notice even when you're trying not to."
"That's ridiculous."
"Is it?" His gaze lingered, warm and annoyingly intent. "I think you underestimate yourself."
My pulse jumped, and I hated that it did. This was Austin Ray enemy, nuisance, chaos in human form. The last thing I needed was his voice whispering doubts into the careful walls I'd built.
So I straightened my shoulders and glared. "Stay out of my way, Austin. I mean it."
He grinned again, slow and infuriating. "We'll see."
And with that, he walked off, the crowd naturally parting for him like he was royalty.
I stood there, fists clenched, heart racing.
So much for quiet.