Aria Whitmore had survived AP Chemistry, organic labs, and three simultaneous part-time jobs—she was not about to be taken down by a boy in a backwards cap at a study abroad meeting.
The Kaufman Hall auditorium at UCLA buzzed with the electric energy of students about to escape to Europe. Travel guides sprouted from designer tote bags like colorful weeds, glossy program packets fanned across fold-down desks, and excited chatter bounced off the curved walls. Onstage, a massive banner proclaimed: European Art & Culture Abroad – Your Adventure Begins Here.
Aria claimed her seat in the front row, spine straight, three color-coded binders stacked with military precision beside her. She'd spent exactly four hours and thirty-seven minutes last night researching every museum, cultural site, and academic requirement across Paris, Rome, and Barcelona. If she was stuck in the wrong program, she'd damn well be the best student in it.
Two seats away, Kai Blackwell had turned his chair into a personal lounge, one long leg draped over the seat in front of him, UCLA Football hoodie unzipped to reveal a fitted black t-shirt underneath. He scrolled through his phone like they weren't minutes away from discussing the semester that could make or break her medical school applications.
The casual disrespect made her jaw clench.
"If we follow the recommended itinerary," Aria began, flipping open her perfectly tabbed Paris binder, "we can maximize cultural immersion while maintaining academic rigor. I've already outlined the most efficient routes between—"
"Whoa there, sunshine." Kai didn't even look up from his phone, thumb still scrolling. "We're going to Europe, not boot camp. We'll figure it out when we get there."
Her highlighter snapped in her grip. "Figure it out? Do you have any concept of what's at stake here? My scholarship requires maintaining a 3.8 GPA. One bad semester and I'm working at a diner instead of saving lives."
Finally—finally—he glanced at her, that infuriating smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "And you can't afford to unclench for five seconds, apparently. Not everything needs a color-coded battle plan."
Heat flashed through her chest. "You're privileged and careless."
"And you're an uptight control freak who probably schedules her bathroom breaks."
The words hit the auditorium like a slap. Conversations died mid-sentence. Heads swiveled toward their row with the hungry attention of students sensing drama.
Aria's face burned scarlet. She hated public scenes almost as much as she hated the way Kai's dark eyes sparked with satisfaction at getting under her skin.
"Okay, okay." Blake Sterling materialized in the aisle beside them like some prep school superhero, his voice pitched to the perfect volume of concerned authority. "Let's take it down a notch before Professor Marlowe starts taking names."
He slid into the seat between them with practiced ease, his crisp button-down and perfectly styled blond hair making everyone else look like they'd rolled out of bed. "Different working styles can actually complement each other," he said, offering Aria a sympathetic smile before glancing at Kai with barely concealed disapproval. "The program director will appreciate diverse perspectives."
Aria wanted to sink through the floor. Blake made it sound so reasonable, so mature. Unlike her public meltdown with the campus party boy.
"Thanks, Blake," she managed, grateful for his diplomatic intervention.
"No problem." His blue eyes held hers a beat longer than necessary. "Smart people adapt. That's what makes them successful."
Before Kai could respond with what was undoubtedly another sarcastic comment, the auditorium lights dimmed. Professor Elena Marlowe strode to the podium with the commanding presence of someone who'd probably negotiated peace treaties over espresso in European cafés.
"Welcome to your European adventure," Marlowe began, her crisp accent cutting through the lingering chatter. "This program isn't a vacation. It's an intensive cultural immersion designed to challenge your assumptions, expand your worldview, and push you beyond your comfort zones."
She clicked to the first slide: a stunning sunset over the Seine.
"You'll spend four months living like locals, not tourists. Speaking the languages, understanding the history, becoming temporary citizens of some of the world's most culturally rich cities."
Another click: the Colosseum bathed in golden light.
"Which brings me to your most important tool for success." Marlowe's gaze swept the auditorium like a general surveying troops. "Your assigned partner."
Aria's stomach dropped like she'd missed a step on a staircase.
"For the entire semester, you'll work exclusively with one other student. You'll share assignments, living quarters, and cultural experiences. Your academic success depends entirely on your ability to collaborate."
The auditorium erupted in nervous whispers. Students frantically scanned the room, mentally cataloguing potential partners and praying to avoid their least favorite classmates.
Aria's hands went clammy. Please not Kai. Please not Kai. Anyone but—
"Partnerships have been pre-assigned based on complementary academic strengths and personality assessments," Marlowe continued, pulling out a tablet. "When I call your names, please move to sit together."
The death march began. "Emma Chen and Marcus Rodriguez." Relief and disappointment rippled through different sections of the room.
"Sofia Ramirez and David Kim."
Aria held her breath, fingers crossed so tightly they went numb.
"Blake Sterling and Jessica Walsh."
Blake shot her an apologetic look as a pretty brunette claimed the seat beside him. At least one of them would escape this lottery unscathed.
"Aria Whitmore..."
Time slowed. The auditorium faded to white noise. Her heart hammered against her ribs as Professor Marlowe's voice seemed to stretch across eternity.
"...and Kai Blackwell."
The words hit like a physical blow. Around them, students either winced in sympathy or grinned with schadenfreude. Someone actually whispered, "Oh shit."
Kai's reaction was immediate and devastating: he threw back his head and laughed. Actually laughed, like the universe had just delivered the punchline to his favorite joke.
"Well, well," he drawled, that insufferable smirk spreading across his face as he scooted one seat closer. "Looks like we're stuck together for four months, sunshine. This should be fun."
Aria stared at him in horror. Four months. Paris, Rome, Barcelona, and God knew where else. Trapped with Kai Blackwell, whose idea of cultural immersion probably involved finding the best nightclubs and charming local girls with his quarterback smile.
Her perfectly planned, carefully controlled future had just been handed over to chaos incarnate.
From across the aisle, Blake caught her eye and mouthed, "I'm sorry." But something in his expression looked less like sympathy and more like calculation—as if he'd just witnessed the first move in a very interesting game.