The campus always felt too loud.
People laughed too hard, music blasted from balconies, and gossip traveled faster than lectures. But that morning, everything seemed to move in slow motion, like the world was waiting… watching… expecting something.
I didn't know it yet — but that was the day everything changed.
I was only here to start over. New school, new state, new hostel. I wanted quiet. I wanted to disappear. I wanted peace.
But peace was the one thing I was never going to get at St. Claire College.
Not with him here.
They said his name in whispers.
Xavier Cole.
The boy with the smirk that made girls forget their standards.
The boy who didn't text back.
The boy everyone wanted, but no one ever kept.
Some said he had no heart.
Some said he used to love someone once, and she broke him.
Others said he just didn't care.
But I wasn't thinking about any of that when I stepped into the lecture hall, hugging my books to my chest, struggling to find an empty seat.
Then it happened.
His eyes met mine.
Dark. Sharp. Amused.
Like he had seen a thousand faces and mine was the first one that made him pause.
He leaned back in his chair, slow, studying me — not with interest… but possession.
Like he had already decided something.
I looked away immediately.
But I felt him still watching.
"New girl?" someone whispered beside me.
I nodded.
Her name was Joy — talkative and bright, the opposite of me. She leaned closer.
"Just— don't look at him too long."
I swallowed. "Why?"
"He doesn't like being challenged," she said. "And he hates when someone looks like they're not interested in him."
I almost laughed.
Because I wasn't interested in anyone.
But the truth?
The truth was that my heart was beating in a way I didn't recognize.
Fast. Warm. Unsteady.
And when I finally looked up again…
Xavier was still staring at me.
Not blinking.
Not smiling.
Just looking — like he was trying to figure out why I existed.
After class, I thought I could slip out unnoticed.
I was wrong.
My wrist was suddenly caught — gently, but firmly — stopping me in the hallway.
I turned, and he was there.
Up close, he smelled like expensive cologne and trouble—clean, warm, addictive trouble. His eyes dropped to my lips before returning to my eyes.
"You're new," he said.
Not a question. A statement.
"Yes."
His voice was low. Calm. Too calm. Like he was used to getting what he wanted.
"Name?"
"Eliana," I replied, trying to sound unaffected.
His gaze flicked down again — brief, dangerous, like a touch without touching.
"Eliana," he repeated slowly, like tasting it. "Pretty."
Then — the smirk. The one people warned about. The one that ruined people.
But I didn't melt. I didn't blush. I didn't stare back.
I stepped away from him.
His jaw tightened — barely — but enough to show he wasn't used to that.
"You'll learn something about this place," he said softly, leaning close enough for his breath to touch my ear.
"Everyone wants something."
I met his eyes — steady.
"And what do you want?"
A beat.
A slow, almost cruel smile.
"You."
No hesitation. No shame. No doubt.
"But…" he continued, stepping back, eyes darkening,
"…I don't like sharing."
He walked away before I could breathe.
And that was the moment it started —
the obsession
the jealousy
the danger
the wanting.
He didn't chase girls.
But now?
He would burn the entire campus to keep me.