We just stand there. Locked in.
No one moves. No one speaks.
It’s like something is circling us, waiting to land. Not a kiss. Not even a touch. Just something invisible and sharp and pulling.
Then finally—soft, almost like he regrets asking—he says, “So... are you okay?”
It’s the same words he used seconds ago, but stripped of the teasing now. Just a question. Just him.
And suddenly I don’t know how to answer. I want to say yes, just to shut the whole thing down. But I’m still shaky. Still hot all over. Still very much not okay.
I settle for: “I’m fine.”
He doesn’t believe me. It’s obvious in the way his brow lifts, the way he keeps looking at me like he’s watching something small inside me pull tight.
I try to move. Get my feet working again. But he falls into step beside me like we’re walking somewhere on purpose.
“I meant what I said,” he says after a beat. “You shouldn’t walk alone.”
“Because you think I’m weak?”
“Because some guys don’t understand what a no looks like,” he says, without hesitation.
We walk through the side lot, the campus empty enough that I can still hear my heartbeat in my ears. He doesn’t fill the silence this time. Just walks, matching my pace like it’s natural, like it’s not completely freaking me out.
I want him to stop. I want him to keep going.
He keeps walking. Slow. Like he expects me to follow. “So it’s, what—an oath? A brand? Part of the image?”
I catch up to him. “It’s a decision.”
“Sure. But yours?”
I roll my eyes. “Oh my God.”
“Because it sounded... rehearsed.”
“You don’t know anything about me.”
He grins without looking at me. “Not yet.”
I groan. Loudly. “Jesus, you’re exhausting.”
“I’m just saying,” he says, finally glancing over, “you pitched that speech like you were trying to make a point. But it didn’t sound like a choice. It sounded like a defense.”
I stop walking. “What the hell does that mean?”
He stops too. Turns. Shrugs. “Means you sound more afraid than certain.”
My mouth drops open. “Excuse me?”
He takes a step forward. “Do you think wanting someone is a weakness?”
“I think wanting you would be a mistake.”
His mouth twitches. “Didn’t say to me.”
“Well you were thinking about it.”
He doesn’t deny it. “You’re really not used to people pushing back, are you?”
“I’m used to people knowing how to shut the hell up.”
“You keep saying you don’t care, but I’m starting to think you care a lot.”
I glare at him. “You think I said what I said to impress anyone?”
“No,” he says simply. “I think you said it to keep people at arm’s length. But you don’t get to be shocked when someone refuses to stay where you put them.”
“God, you’re—” I cut myself off before I say something I can’t take back. Before I say hot, which is not the point.
“You don’t want to finish that sentence,” he says, and that smirk is back now. Lazy. Infuriating.
I try to get ahead of him in the hall. He keeps pace.
“This is harassment,” I mutter.
“This is a hallway.”
“I’m reporting you.”
“On what grounds? Eye contact?”
“Emotional terrorism.”
He laughs. Actually laughs. “You’re not used to being rattled, are you?”
“I’m not rattled.”
“You’re red.”
“I run hot.”
He hums. “Clearly.”
“Are we done?” I say, but it doesn’t come out as strong as I want it to.
“Almost,” he murmurs. “One more question.”
I don’t respond.
He looks right at me. “What happens if you meet someone who makes you want to break your own rules?”
I can’t speak.
He watches me a second longer, then steps back. Gives me space like he knows I need it. But he doesn’t look sorry for asking.
We walk the rest of the way to class in silence. My face is on fire. My hands are still trembling. My heart refuses to slow down.
And just when I think I’ve made it—
“Miss Alden, Mr. West,” Dr. Martinez says without looking up from her tablet as we walk in. “You’re partners for the autonomy project. Presentations begin next week.”
I freeze.
“You’re kidding,” I say. “This is a setup.”
“It’s a curriculum,” she replies flatly. “And you were both late to class.”
Grayson slides into the seat next to mine like the day hasn’t just tilted sideways. Like this is inevitable.
He leans in again.
“This should be fun.”