Axel pov
I killed the engine and looked at her sitting in the passenger seat. Her balance was still a little off, and I didn't like it. Not one bit.
"Come on," I said, opening the door before she could protest. But as she tried to step out, she wobbled again. My hands moved instinctively, lifting her into my arms without thinking.
"Axel!" she laughed, a soft, teasing sound, pressing lightly against my chest. "I can walk! Really, I—"
"You're not walking," I interrupted, voice low and tense. "You're done for tonight. I'm not letting you fall."
Her laughter softened, teasing me, even as I held her firmly. "You've done enough already," she murmured, her breath warm against my neck. "Seriously."
I ignored her, keeping her close. The way her dress clung, the subtle warmth of her body… it made me grip her a little tighter, protectively, possessively. "I don't care. You're coming with me. End of discussion."
I carried her to the stairs and set her down.
Then she tilted her head, those flushed, mischievous eyes locking on mine. "Alright," she whispered and suddenly she placed hands on my chest. On tiptoes, she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to my cheek — fleeting, light, but enough to make my pulse spike.
"See?" she said with a grin, adjusting herself in her dress. "All good. I'm fine now."
l watched as she wobbled slightly but stayed upright. My hands lingered for a moment longer on her waist, unwilling to let her completely go.
I stood there, jaw tight, heart racing. Fine? I muttered under my breath. No one's fine when I'm not the one holding them.
That kiss, that grin, that effortless way she could make me both furious and completely captivated… it left me standing there, tense, frustrated, and utterly unable to stop thinking about her
I set her down near the dorm steps, but my hands didn't move right away. I could still see that moment — her standing outside the bar, the cold air around us, her voice soft when she whispered my name right before she kissed me. Just thinking about it made my pulse stutter.
Goodnight," she said with a small smile, turning toward the dorm.
Fuck. I've lost it.
But there is no backing out now Ava Clair is mine.
🌙 Ava's POV — Back at the Dorm
The dorm was quiet when I walked in, the hum of the hallway lights the only sound. My head was still spinning a little — not from the drinks, but from him.
That kiss outside the bar wouldn't leave me alone. It had been quick, spontaneous, but real enough to make every nerve in me remember. His hand at the back of my neck, the cold air, the way the world had stopped for a second. I didn't know if it was the alcohol or something else, but my heart hadn't slowed down since.
When I pushed open the door to our room, Emma was already there — wrapped in a blanket, hair up in a messy bun, scrolling through her phone. She looked up the moment I stepped inside.
"Well, well," she said, smirking immediately. "Look who finally decided to show up."
I kicked off my heels and groaned, falling face-first onto the bed. "Don't start."
"Oh, I'm definitely starting," she teased. "Kate texted me like ten minutes ago. Said Liam and Josh were still dancing with them and you'd left with him."
I froze. "Her words exactly?"
"'Ava left with Axel,'" Emma said, crossing her arms dramatically. "So… do I need to start preparing a wedding speech, or—?"
"Emma," I warned, my voice muffled in the pillow.
She laughed, tossing a pillow at me. "Fine, fine. But you're blushing. Which means something happened."
I lifted my head, glaring at her — though my face was definitely warm. "Nothing happened."
Her eyes narrowed, suspicious and too sharp for her own good. "You're lying. You have that post-chaos look."
I sat up, running a hand through my hair. "It's not what you think. He just… drove me home. That's it."
Emma's eyebrow shot up. "That's it? You're red as a cherry, your dress is half off your shoulder, and you look like someone said something that scrambled your brain."
I bit my lip, staring at the floor. "He didn't say anything."
Her smirk widened. "Oh? So he did something."
"Emma!" I groaned, tossing a pillow at her this time.
She caught it midair, laughing. "Fine, fine! I won't pry… for now. But from the look on your face, something definitely changed tonight."
I fell back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling as the warmth crept back into my cheeks.
Something had changed. That kiss — the way he'd looked at me after — it had left a mark I wasn't ready to admit.
And the worst part?
How I'm i going to face him tomorrow.
🌤️ Ava's POV — The Morning After
The sunlight slipping through the blinds was way too bright for how my head felt. I groaned, burying myself deeper under the blanket, hoping maybe sleep would drag me back before my thoughts did.
But no — my mind had other plans.
Because the second I blinked awake, I remembered him.
Axel.
The kiss.
The heat of his hand at the back of my neck.
The way his jacket still smelled faintly like him when he draped it over me.
And just like that, my heart decided to sprint.
I sat up abruptly, hair a mess, mind racing faster than it should at this hour. "Okay," I muttered to myself, "I just need to… avoid him. Simple. Stay out of his way. No eye contact, no talking, no accidentally remembering how soft his lips were."
Great. Now I was talking to myself.
Across the room, Emma was still asleep, her blanket pulled up to her chin. I quietly got up, grabbed some clothes, and tiptoed into the bathroom. Cold water. That would help.
Except it didn't.
The second I looked in the mirror, I caught the faint mark of where his fingers had brushed my skin — just from holding me steady. My cheeks heated instantly.
"Nope," I said to my reflection. "Not happening again."
But my brain was already spiraling.
What if I saw him at campus? What if he showed up in class like nothing happened? What if he smirked — the way he always did when he knew I was flustered?
I squeezed my eyes shut. "Okay. Plan. Avoid Axel Theodore at all costs."
Simple.
Doable.
Completely realistic… right?
Except every single time I'd tried ignoring him before, he'd somehow found a way to show up — leaning against a wall, watching with that unreadable expression that made my stomach flip.
By the time Emma stirred awake, I was dressed, pretending ing to look less like I'd been hit by a tornado of feelings.
By the time Emma stirred awake, I was dressed, pretending to scroll through my phone like my life wasn't in total emotional chaos.
She yawned, stretching. "Morning. You look… awake for someone who didn't come back until late."
"Couldn't sleep," I said quickly. "And I've got… things to do today."
She gave me a sleepy side-eye. "Things? Or someone you're trying to avoid?"
I shot her a glare. "Both."
She grinned, turning over. "Good luck with that. Something tells me Axel doesn't take 'avoidance' well."
I didn't answer.
Because deep down, I already knew she was right.
Sigh… I avoided looking at him the entire class.
Or at least, I tried to.
It should've been easy — he was sitting at the back, same seat he always took, leaned back in that lazy, careless way that made it look like nothing in the world bothered him. But somehow, even from that far, I could feel him. That heavy gaze burning straight through me.
I kept my eyes glued to the professor, nodding along like I understood every word about research methodology. In reality, my brain was static — every thought drowned out by the weight of him somewhere behind me.
Don't look. Don't turn. Don't even breathe too loud.
My pen tapped nervously against my notebook. Every time I shifted, I swore I could sense the slightest movement — a chair creaking, a faint exhale that I shouldn't have been able to hear but did.
Why did he have to sit there? He never used to. Before that night, he always took the front row or skipped entirely. But now? Now it felt intentional.
I scribbled random notes just to distract myself, only to realize I'd written his name in the margin.
Great. Perfect. Someone call the embarrassment police.
"Focus," I muttered under my breath, crossing it out so hard the paper almost tore.
Halfway through the lecture, the professor asked a question. I answered automatically — something about independent variables — and felt the faintest prickle on my neck as soon as I finished speaking. Like his attention sharpened, zeroed in.
I didn't have to look to know he was smirking.
That infuriating, self-assured half-smile that said he'd caught me pretending not to notice him.
And the worst part? He hadn't said a single word. Not one.
No teasing remark, no sarcastic comment — just silence.
Somehow, that was worse.
Because silence from Axel Hayes wasn't peace.
It was pressure — quiet, deliberate, suffocating pressure.
The kind that made me hyperaware of every breath, every movement, every stupid flutter in my chest.
By the end of class, my notebook was a mess, my pulse was doing jumping jacks, and I was ready to bolt the second the professor dismissed us.
But when I stood, I couldn't stop myself — one quick glance over my shoulder.
He was still there.
Leaning back, one arm draped over the chair, eyes locked on me. No smirk this time. Just that unreadable look — dark, steady, and maddeningly calm.
My throat went dry.
I turned away instantly, stuffing my things into my bag like it was a matter of life or death.
"Get a grip, Ava," I whispered, clutching my books. "He's just… Axel."
But that was the problem.
He wasn't just anything anymore.
The moment the professor dismissed us, I was out of my seat faster than anyone else. My bag strap nearly slipped off my shoulder as I weaved between desks, determined not to give him a single glance.
Just walk straight. Don't turn around. Don't even breathe in his direction.
But of course, fate had other ideas.
Because I'd barely reached the door when I heard it — that familiar low voice, calm but commanding enough to send a chill down my spine.
"Ava."
I froze. Just for a second.
Then pretended I hadn't heard and kept walking.
"Seriously?" His tone carried a hint of disbelief — almost a smirk hidden behind it. "You're just gonna ignore me now?"
My pace quickened. I could practically feel him behind me — that quiet, confident stride that always seemed a little too sure of itself. The hallway was almost empty, footsteps echoing against the tile, and every sound of his felt way too close.
"Not ignoring," I muttered under my breath, not turning around. "Just… late for something."
"Late for something," he repeated, clearly unconvinced. I could hear the grin in his voice. "Right. Because you always sprint out of class like your chair was on fire."
I stopped.
Bad move.
Because the second I did, he was there — right behind me, close enough that I could feel the warmth of him before I even looked up.
"Move, Axel," I said, clutching my books tighter.
"Can't," he said lightly, though there was something dangerous underneath that tone. "Not until you tell me why you've been avoiding me all morning."
I exhaled sharply, trying to summon the calm I didn't have. "Maybe because someone decided to stare at me through the entire lecture like I was a lab specimen."
He tilted his head. "Maybe because someone refused to even glance my way once."
His voice had that lazy rhythm again — the kind that made everything sound like a dare.
My heart was pounding now, and I hated that he could probably hear it. "It's called focus. You should try it sometime."
"Focus?" he echoed, leaning a fraction closer. "I was focused."
That single line made my breath hitch.
I forced myself to step aside, brushing past him, but my sleeve caught his wrist for the briefest moment. Electricity — sharp, undeniable.
"Let go," I whispered.
He did. Instantly.
But his gaze didn't waver.
As I walked away, I could feel it — that silent, wordless pull still following me down the hallway. Like gravity, or maybe something worse.
And for the first time, I wasn't sure which one of us was really trying harder not to fall.