Rule #1: Don't make eye contact with anyone hot enough to ruin your life.
Too bad I suck at rules.
The moment I stepped through Ridgeview High's front doors, I knew I didn't belong. The air smelled like money and entitlement. Girls in designer heels clacked past me like runway models, and even the lockers looked expensive—sleek, dark, no dents, no graffiti. Just like the students.
And then there was him.
Leaning against locker 214 like it owed him something. Dark hair, jaw sharp enough to cut glass, sleeves rolled up just enough to show he didn't care what rules said. His eyes scanned the hall like he owned it.
And then—God help me—he looked at me.
Not through me. At me.
A beat passed.
Another.
And then he smirked. Like he knew something I didn't.
I looked away so fast I nearly tripped over my own feet. Welcome to Ridgeview, Ava Monroe. Don't stare at the wolves.
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
Unknown Number:
You really thought you could hide here?
My blood turned to ice. I stopped walking. The hallway kept moving around me, buzzing with gossip, perfume, secrets.
Another buzz.
Unknown Number:
They don't know who you are. But I do.
I slowly turned my head.
And there he was.
Still leaning against that locker. Still smirking.
Like he sent it.
I ran.
I shoved through the crowd, down a hallway that didn't feel safe anymore, toward a future that was already cracking at the edges.
I was supposed to disappear.
But someone just found me.
And something tells me Killian Blake doesn't keep secrets.
He uses them.