Sky's POV
There's something about Kai Ashford that makes the air go still.
Not just quiet—but watch-your-mouth, hold-your-breath, he-might-actually-own-a-gun kind of still.
Every time he walks into class, people move out of his way like he's royalty. Or worse—like he's dangerous. And honestly? With the way he sits in the back row, all black button-ups and brooding silence, I wouldn't be surprised if he ran an illegal empire between lectures.
So obviously, I had to sit next to him.
I strolled into Lecture Hall 5B with coffee, two broken pens, and a dream. And when I spotted Kai in the back—hood up, eyes unreadable, black shirt unbuttoned just enough to expose that annoyingly perfect collarbone—I knew today was the day.
Operation: Befriend The Mafia Prince was a go.
I smiled at him. Bright. Warm. My best you-won't-intimidate-me smile.
He blinked once. No smile. No nod. Just that heavy, slow, unnerving stare that made me feel like he knew my blood type and the exact time I'd die.
Perfect.
I started climbing the stairs, already waving at three people on the way up. That's the thing—everyone knows me. The janitor, the professors, the lunch lady who gave me free muffins when I forgot my wallet. Everyone.
Except him.
Step four betrayed me. I tripped, obviously. It's kind of my thing.
Hair flying, pen launching across the floor, coffee tilting in slow motion—and me, flailing like a particularly dramatic ballerina.
"Oopsie," I said, way too cheerfully for someone who just publicly face-planted.
I gathered my things with a sigh and looked up. Kai hadn't even moved. Just watched me like he was mentally filing this incident under Reasons To Avoid Her Forever.
I reached the top and sat next to him like it was the most natural thing in the world. He didn't look at me. Just kept staring ahead, arms folded, rings glinting on his fingers like they had stories I shouldn't ask about.
"Hi," I whispered. "I made it. Kinda."
Silence.
So I smiled brighter. "Sooo… you're literally the only person in this university I'm not friends with yet. It's been bothering me. Like, deeply."
Nothing. His jaw ticked, just slightly. His hands were veined, strong, resting too still for someone normal.
"I mean, the guard outside calls me 'little lawyer sunshine', Professor Desai invites me to her cat's birthday, and the cleaning lady taught me how to make parathas."
Still no reaction. I nudged his notebook with my pen. "So. Naturally, I had to sit here. You're the final boss."
That got his attention.
He turned his head slowly, eyes landing on me like I was something to be figured out—or removed.
I swear I forgot how to breathe.
His voice was quiet. Low. "You talk a lot."
I grinned, way too proud. "I do! But I listen too."
He stared for a long second. Then turned away.
But I swear—I swear—I saw the ghost of a smile.
Game on, Mafia Boy.