The air on campus bit with the crisp edge of early fall, a sharp reminder of change as leaves crunched under Lila’s scuffed boots. She hauled her last duffel bag up the narrow dorm stairs, the buzz of new student energy vibrating through the halls—laughter, nervous chatter, and the occasional shout of someone looking for their room. Her tiny dorm was a blank slate, a shoebox of possibility with two twin beds and a window that overlooked a quad already littered with frisbee games and awkward icebreakers. Lila dropped her bag with a thud, her sharp green eyes scanning the space. This was it. Her chance to rewrite the story of Lila Voss, the girl who’d been the town pariah back home. No more whispers. No more pitying glances. Here, she’d be whoever the hell she wanted to be.
“Yo, new roomie! You’re late to the party!” A voice chirped from behind her, bright and intrusive as a neon sign. Lila turned to see a petite girl with a shock of purple hair and a nose ring leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed like she owned the place. Marissa, according to the name scrawled on the whiteboard outside. She was already dressed for a night out—ripped fishnets under a plaid skirt, combat boots, the whole punk vibe. “I’ve been waiting to scope you out. You’re not, like, a total buzzkill, are you?”
Lila arched a brow, her lips curling into a smirk as she unzipped her bag with deliberate slowness. “Depends. You’re not one of those ‘let’s braid each other’s hair and share our deepest secrets’ types, are you? Because I’m allergic to bonding.”
Marissa grinned, unfazed, hopping onto the empty bed and crossing her legs like they’d been friends for years. “Nah, I’m more the ‘let’s sneak vodka into the RA’s coffee and crash a frat party’ type. Speaking of which, there’s a rager tonight at Delta Sig. You’re coming. No excuses.”
Lila snorted, pulling out a stack of worn notebooks and tossing them onto her desk. “Hard pass. I didn’t drag my ass across state lines to get wasted with a bunch of sweaty dudes in backwards caps on day one. I’ve got standards.”
“Oh, come on,” Marissa drawled, leaning forward with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Don’t tell me you’re gonna hole up in here like some brooding artist. Live a little! Let me corrupt you. I’m excellent at it.”
Lila’s smirk widened, but her tone was razor-sharp. “Tempting, but I’ll stick to corrupting myself, thanks. I don’t need a tour guide for debauchery.”
Marissa pouted, hopping off the bed and sauntering closer, her boots clomping dramatically. “Fine, be a hermit. But I’m dragging you out eventually. You’ve got this whole ‘mysterious hot girl’ thing going on, and I’m not letting it go to waste. Those cheekbones? Criminal. You’re my wingwoman whether you like it or not.”
Lila rolled her eyes, but a flicker of amusement danced across her face. “Keep dreaming, punk rock Barbie. I don’t wing for anyone.” Still, as she turned back to unpacking, there was a tightness in her chest—a quiet, desperate hope that this place, these people, might finally see her for more than her past. But vulnerability wasn’t her style. She buried it under layers of sarcasm and kept moving.
By late afternoon, the dorm was suffocating with Marissa’s relentless energy, so Lila escaped to the campus café, a cramped little spot called Brew & Muse. It was packed with students hunched over laptops or flirting over overpriced pastries, the air thick with the scent of burnt espresso and cinnamon. Lila snagged a corner table, her cheap latte cooling as she hunched over her sketchbook, charcoal smudging her fingers. Her lines were jagged, angry—a half-formed figure with haunted eyes staring back at her. She was lost in it, the noise of the café fading, when a voice sliced through her focus like a rusty blade.
“Well, damn. If it ain’t Lila Voss, skulking in the shadows like old times.”
Her stomach dropped, a cold sweat prickling her neck as she snapped her head up. There he was, strutting through the door like he owned the place—Jace fucking Carver. His military buzzcut was new, sharp and severe, but that cocky grin was the same one that had haunted her nightmares through high school. He was broader now, shoulders filling out his leather jacket, a faint scar cutting across his jaw. Back from deployment, she guessed, and still the same asshole who’d made her life hell. Their eyes locked, and the air thickened, charged with a history neither of them could outrun.
Lila’s grip tightened on her pencil, but she forced a smirk, leaning back in her chair with a casualness she didn’t feel. “Well, if it isn’t the poster boy for toxic masculinity. What, did the army kick you out for being too much of a dick, or did you just miss tormenting me?”
Jace chuckled, low and rough, sauntering over with that infuriating swagger. He pulled out the chair across from her without asking, dropping into it like he had every right. “Nah, I’m on leave. Thought I’d come slum it with the college kids. Didn’t expect to find you here, though. Still hiding behind that sketchbook, huh? What’s it this time—more of those creepy-ass drawings?”
Her jaw clenched, but she didn’t flinch, her gaze cutting into him like glass. “Still hiding behind that inflated ego, huh? Guess some things never change. Why don’t you crawl back to whatever hole you came from, Jace? I’m not in the mood for your bullshit.”
He leaned forward, elbows on the table, his smirk widening as his eyes flicked over her—assessing, taunting. “Oh, come on, Voss. Don’t pretend you’re not thrilled to see me. I’m the highlight of your sad little day. Admit it, you missed our little… chats.”
Lila’s laugh was sharp, biting, as she snapped her sketchbook shut with a deliberate thud. “Missed you? Please. I’ve had better conversations with a brick wall. And trust me, I’ve spent the last two years forgetting you even exist. So do us both a favor and fuck off.”
His grin didn’t waver, but something darker flashed in his eyes—something that looked almost like respect, or maybe regret. He leaned back, spreading his arms in mock surrender. “Damn, girl, you’ve still got that mouth on you. I almost forgot how much I liked it. Fine, I’ll let you play hard to get. For now.”
She stood abruptly, chair scraping against the floor, her latte sloshing as she grabbed her things. “Keep dreaming, Carver. I’m not playing anything with you. Stay out of my way, or I’ll make sure you regret crawling back into my life.” Her voice was steel, but as she turned to storm out, her heart pounded, a mix of fury and something else—something she refused to name.
Halfway to the door, she couldn’t help it. She glanced over her shoulder, just for a split second, and caught him watching her, that smirk still plastered on his face but his eyes unreadable. Her stomach twisted, a dangerous curiosity sparking despite herself. Who was this Jace now, hardened by war and time? And why the hell did she care?
She pushed through the door into the crisp fall air, leaves skittering around her boots, and swore to herself she’d keep her distance. Old scars didn’t need new wounds. But as she marched back to the dorm, the heat of their exchange lingered, a slow burn she couldn’t shake.
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