❤️🩹 WHEN LOVE HEALS 🫀
[...You Think,You Can Fix Me...?]
_____
By;
E.P.I NOVELS.
††•CHAPTER 1❤️🔥2•††
_____
-ARRIVAL AT DRAVEN'S MINI-MANSION-
Jamie stepped out of the taxi, the door shutting behind him with a heavy thud.
His stitched blue backpack hung on his left shoulder, worn at the edges, dependable. In one hand, he dragged a medium-sized suitcase, and in the other, he clutched a slightly crumpled sheet of paper—the address written in his father's neat, slanted handwriting.
He looked up.
And froze.
Before him stood a building that could only be described as a mini-mansion—jet-black, sleek, and towering in silent power. It wasn't just a house. It was a statement.
Steel-framed windows gleamed beneath the overcast sky. Ebony stone walls were polished to a mirror finish. Modern lines met gothic edge in a way that was both intimidating and undeniably sophisticated. Tall, black iron gates guarded the front with symmetrical precision. The entire structure breathed money. It whispered don't belong.
Jamie inhaled shakily. This is it.
He approached the gate, the weight of uncertainty in his steps. Just as he reached for the intercom, a smooth, mechanical voice crackled to life:
"State your name."
Jamie cleared his throat. "Jamie Hart."
A brief silence. Then a quiet click—the gate slowly parted.
"Welcome, Jamie," the AI said.
His brows lifted in awe. What kind of house has an AI?
As he passed through the gate, the world behind him faded. This place—this life—was nothing like the one he left behind.
He took slow steps toward the front entrance, soaking in every surreal detail: trimmed hedges like artwork, a water feature humming quietly to the side, motion lights activating with each footstep.
The front door loomed in matte black with sleek gold handles and a minimalist digital doorbell glowing black
Jamie pressed the glowing doorbell and waited. One second. Five. Ten.
He rang it again. Still nothing.
And waited.
No response.
He tried again. Still nothing.
He was beginning to wonder if he had the wrong place when the door, suddenly swung open with a soft hiss.
And there—standing like a shadow carved from steel—was Draven DuPont.
He leaned casually against the frame, one arm tattooed in black ink that curled up beneath the sleeve of his designer black t-shirt. His tall frame was lean but solid, the kind of build that spoke of power without needing to flex. Smoke curled lazily from the cigarette balanced between his fingers, the scent mixing with the sharp bite of cologne and cold air.
His face was carved like a sin—high cheekbones, a strong jawline dusted with stubble, and ice-gray eyes that flicked over Jamie with detached disinterest. A thin scar cut across one brow—subtle, but enough to hint at violence.
His mouth didn't smile. It looked like it hadn't in years.
__
Draven stared at Jamie like he was nothing more than dirt trapped under his expensive shoes—cold, unblinking, and utterly unfriendly. Every inch of him radiated a quiet menace, an intimidating presence that made Jamie's skin prickle.
For what felt like minutes, they stood frozen—locked in silence.
The silence was deafening and heavy.
Jamie's throat tightened. He wanted to say something, anything, but words tangled uselessly in his mouth. So he just stared back, heart pounding wildly.
Finally, Jamie blinked, forcing himself to break the silence.
"Uh… hi. I'm Jamie. Jamie Hart. I—"
"You're the charity case?" Draven interrupted, his voice low and bored.
"Charity w—"
Before Jamie could finish, Draven turned sharply and strode inside, leaving Jamie standing frozen at the doorpost.
No welcome. No handshake!!!!
Swallowing his surprise, Jamie hurried after him, dragging his suitcase behind.
The interior of the mini-mansion was staggering. Every surface screamed luxury—polished black marble floors, sleek ebony walls, and glossy furniture so pristine it looked almost untouchable.
Nearly everything was painted in deep, matte black, except for the grand chandelier hanging overhead, dripping with crystals that caught the light, and the sweeping staircase with golden railings that twisted upward like liquid metal.
Draven stood near the vast living room window, cigarette smoke curling lazily around him as he watched Jamie with unblinking eyes.
Jamie's gaze flitted around the room, mesmerized, caught between awe and intimidation.
Draven's voice cut through the silence, sharp and unyielding as he turned Jamie's attention back to him at the window.
"Now that you're here, let's get a few things straight," he said coldly, not bothering to look at Jamie.
"You're only here because my dad begged. That doesn't make us friends."he added as he lit another cigarette, the burning tobacco's acrid smell curling around the room, stinging Jamie's nose and making him shift uncomfortably.
Jamie stayed quiet, unsure of what to say.
"Living under my roof," Draven continued, voice low and hard, "I have some golden rules."He continued exhaling a slow stream of smoke.
He finally turned, locking eyes with Jamie. His stare was sharp—deadly, even.
"RULE NUMBER ONE — ❌ DON'T TALK TO ME, UNLESS IT'S REALLY,
REALLY IMPORTANT.
RULE NUMBER TWO — ❌ DON'T YOU DARE ENTER MY ROOM. EVER
RULE NUMBER THREE — ❌ DON'T TOUCH MY STUFF. NOT A SINGLE THING.
RULE NUMBER FOUR — ❌ DON'T BRING ANYONE HERE. CLASSMATES, FRIENDS, HOOKUPS, STRAY DOGS—NONE OF IT.
RULE NUMBER FIVE — ❌ STAY ON YOUR LANE AT ALL TIMES. NO SMALL TALK. NO QUESTIONS. NO DRAMA."
Jamie nodded,words stuck in his throat.
Draven dropped the burnt-out cigarette into a sleek black ashtray and didn't even glance Jamie's way as he spoke again.
"Your room's upstairs. Right wing. First door on the left."
His tone wasn't cruel. Just… detached. Like Jamie's presence didn't register enough to matter.
Jamie cleared his throat.
"Thanks for letting me stay."He spoke up his voice low.
Draven finally glanced his way, face unreadable. "Didn't do it for you."
Silence.
Jamie nodded once, lips pressing into a tight line.
"Still. I appreciate it."He mutters
Draven didn't respond.
He turned without another word and walked off, his steps light and deliberate, vanishing into the shadows of the hall—leaving Jamie alone in a house that echoed more than it welcomed.
Jamie took a quiet breath, glanced around the vast, black-and-gold living room, then moved toward the staircase with his suitcase in tow.
Everything looked expensive. Breakable. Unfamiliar.
The silence clung to him like the chill in the air.
•••
He climbed the staircase slowly, each step muffled against the dark carpet that lined the center. The banister was smooth gold, cool beneath his fingers. Everything gleamed like it belonged in a luxury magazine—immaculate, untouched, and a little too perfect to feel real.
When he reached the right wing, he found the door exactly where Draven said—first on the left.
Jamie hesitated a second before turning the knob and stepping in.
The room was spacious—bigger than his entire living room back home. A wide bed sat near the center, dressed in crisp black linens. A sleek black desk stood near the window, and the walls were lined with dark wooden shelves. A tall wardrobe, an en-suite bathroom, and even a small glass balcony completed the space.
It was nice. Almost too nice. Clean and Cold.
Like no one had ever lived in it before.
Jamie rolled his suitcase inside and sat on the edge of the bed, exhaling slowly.
He was in.
But he wasn't sure where he fit in this world yet.
And somewhere in the same house, down another hallway, was the boy who made it perfectly clear:
He wasn't welcome.
____
Jamie let the silence settle around him as he unzipped his suitcase. The soft sound of the zipper echoed in the room, swallowed by the walls of glass and polished wood.
He knelt by the wardrobe and began unpacking his things—neatly folding his few pairs of jeans, worn-in but clean.
A small stack of plain t-shirts followed, then two button-down shirts he'd brought for class presentations or anything formal. A hoodie. A pair of sneakers. His shoes, carefully wrapped in a plastic bag to protect the little space they took up. A modest toiletry pouch held his toothbrush, deodorant, hair oil, and his favorite cologne—the one his dad had given him as a gift for his 17th birthday.
Nothing fancy. Nothing expensive. Just… his life in a suitcase.
He moved over to the desk by the window. Quietly, almost reverently, he pulled out a small, worn picture frame. The photo inside showed him and his father, arms slung over each other's shoulders, standing in front of their old truck back home. Both smiling like the world hadn't touched them yet.
Jamie placed the frame carefully on the corner of the desk, angled slightly toward the bed—so he could always see it.
It was the only thing that made the room feel like his.
He sat back on the bed, staring at the photo for a long moment before laying down, letting the silence stretch out around him again.
This was a new beginning.
---
DRAVEN'S PRIVATE ROOM
.DRAVEN'S POV.
He slammed his bedroom door shut with his foot, the click of the lock echoing behind him.
Finally. Silence.
The familiar dark stillness of his space wrapped around him like armor. Black walls. Black sheets. Glass panels that looked out over the city lights—cold, distant, and sharp. Just the way he liked it.
He dragged a hand through his hair and tossed his lighter onto the desk, the metallic clink snapping through the air.
He didn't ask for a roommate.
And he definitely didn't ask for a charity case crashing into his quiet, controlled world.
He opened the door, not because he wanted to—but because his father wouldn't shut up about it. "He's a good kid, Draven. Just let him stay. One semester. Please, for me." The same father who thought he could fix everything with money and favors.
___
Draven sat at the edge of his bed, jaw tense, the echo of Jamie's voice still lingering in the back of his mind like an itch. Too soft. Too polite. Too… present.
He lit another cigarette and leaned back against the headboard, eyes fixed on the ceiling.
This was supposed to be his sanctuary. His rules. His space.
And now? Now there was someone in the room down the hall—probably wide-eyed and overwhelmed. The kind of kid who smiled too much, talked too carefully, and carried his world in a beat-up suitcase.
Draven hated that kind of energy.
Too fragile.
Too hopeful.
He exhaled slowly, smoke curling into the dark.
Whatever. He'll learn.
Everyone does.
____
.EVENING/6:23PM.
••JAMIE'S ROOM••
Jamie had just finished his evening shower. He pulled on a pair of comfortable blue shorts and a simple white t-shirt. With his clothes settled, he moved to the window, resting his hands on the cool glass as he took in the city's shimmering nightscape.
His eyes caught movement outside—a flash of black cutting through the dim light.
Draven was mounting his Kawasaki Ninja H2, sleek and menacing, the engine growling to life like a beast awakened.
Jamie watched as Draven revved the bike, the emerald green accents glinting under the streetlights. With a blur, Draven sped away, disappearing down the winding road, swallowed by the city's shadows.
Jamie's gaze lingered on the empty street for a moment longer before his stomach growled, breaking the silence and reminding him of the hunger he'd been ignoring.
He sighed, pulled out his phone, and headed downstairs in search of something to eat.
★
.KITCHEN.
Jamie reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped into the kitchen. The space took his breath away.
It was impossibly sleek—an elegant blend of modern sophistication and high-end luxury. Polished marble countertops gleamed under the soft, recessed lighting embedded in the ceiling. Cabinets of deep, matte black stretched seamlessly from floor to ceiling, their smooth surfaces reflecting subtle hints of gold from the minimalist hardware.
A massive island stood at the center, topped with glossy stone that looked cold to the touch but visually stunning. Stainless steel appliances—state-of-the-art and whisper-quiet—lined one wall, their sleek designs fitting perfectly into the overall monochrome palette. Every surface was immaculate, not a single crumb or fingerprint in sight.
Jamie couldn't help but be wowed. This was a kitchen fit for a celebrity chef, not a college kid like him.
He opened the fridge and scanned the shelves. It was stocked with premium fresh produce, exotic fruits, and imported delicacies. But Jamie wasn't here to cook anything fancy. He grabbed a carton of eggs, a loaf of whole wheat bread, and a small packet of cheese.
Deciding on something quick and simple, Jamie whipped up a cheese omelette, toasted two slices of bread, and poured himself a glass of orange juice.
Dinner was humble, but satisfying.
He carried his plate over to the small dining table tucked into a corner of the kitchen—a round black marble surface with two minimalist chairs. Sitting down, he began to munch on his meal, eyes drifting around the kitchen as the quiet hum of the refrigerator filled the space.
For a moment, he let himself relax. The chaos of the day fading, replaced by the steady rhythm of something new.
__
Just as Jamie took another bite of his omelette, his phone buzzed sharply on the table. He glanced down and saw his dad's name flashing on the screen—a video call.
A smile tugged at the corner of Jamie's lips as he quickly swiped to answer.
"Hey, Dad," Jamie said softly, the warmth in his voice filling the quiet kitchen.
"Jamie!" his dad beamed from the screen, looking tired but genuinely happy to see him.
Behind him, the familiar living room of their small home flickered—faded curtains, that old picture frame on the wall, and the soft hum of the ceiling fan above. "How's my boy holding up?"
"I'm good," Jamie replied, his tone light.
"How about you? How's everything going over there?" He asked
"Everything's just fine, son. Can't complain. The house is quiet without you, though."His dad said
Jamie chuckled lightly.
His dad leaned in a bit. "How do you like the place?"
Jamie glanced around the pristine kitchen before answering, "It's nice… really nice. But it's so cold and quiet. Just the two of us in this huge house."
"But you like it there, don't you?"
Jamie hesitated for a second, then nodded. "Of course I do. Everything's perfect. Comfortable. Clean. Just… different."
"That's good." His dad smiled softly, a little more reassured. Then, his voice shifted gently. "You two getting along okay?"
Jamie blinked, then forced a light smile. "Yeah, yeah—we're getting along just fine. He's… he's nice."
His dad's eyes lit up a bit. "That's good to hear. I'm sure you both will become close friends as time goes on."
"Close friends," Jamie repeated with a nod and a forced chuckle. "Yeah… sure. We'll definitely become close friends."
His dad smiled again, clearly comforted.
"I'm just so relieved you've finally got a good place to stay and focus," he said. "So now, you study hard. Make something of yourself. Graduate top of your class, yeah?"
Jamie nodded firmly. "Don't you trust your boy, Dad? I told you before, and I'll say it again—I'm gonna make you proud."
His dad's expression softened. "I have no doubt about that."
Jamie grinned.
"Alright, my boy. I've got to go now—got some unfinished business to wrap up. We'll talk later, okay?"
"Okay, Dad. Take care… I love you."
"I love you more, son. Take care too."
Jamie waved at the screen.
The call ended.
___
The screen went black as the call ended, and for a moment, the kitchen returned to being silent.
Jamie stared at the empty space where his father's face had been just seconds ago. His chest tightened, but not with sadness—something else. Something stronger.
"I'll make you proud, Dad," he muttered under his breath, a quiet fire laced in his voice. "I promise."
He glanced down at his empty plate and glass, then stood up from the table. Methodically, he cleared everything, wiping down the small marble dining table before carrying the dishes to the sink. The water ran warm as he washed his plate, fork, and glass, his movements slow and careful—like he didn't want to leave any sign behind that he'd ever been there.
Once done, he dried his hands and checked the wall clock above the fridge. 9:03 PM.
His shoulders sagged slightly. The day had stretched long—from leaving his small hometown that morning to landing in the intimidating, echoing halls of the DuPont villa. He felt it now, in his back, in his eyes, in the heaviness of his breath.
Quietly, he made his way out of the kitchen, the lights dimming behind him as he climbed the stairs.
The house was silent, the kind of silence that rang louder than sound.
Reaching the right wing, he opened the door to his room and stepped inside. The scent of his cologne still lingered faintly in the air. His suitcase now tucked away, the room looked a little more lived-in, but still far from familiar.
Jamie slipped off his shirt, folded it neatly on the desk, and climbed into the large bed.
The sheets were cool. The mattress, firmer than he was used to. The room? Still a little too perfect.
But for the first time in hours… he let himself close his eyes. As he drift into a calm and quiet slumber.
_____
..DRAVEN..
The low growl of his bike echoed off the tall gates as they opened for him automatically.
The ride had helped—burning through empty streets, clearing his head. But the quiet followed him home, like it always did.
He pulled into the garage, killed the engine, and swung off the seat in one smooth motion. Helmet tucked under one arm, he stepped into the house.
The villa was dim and silent. As it should be.
He tossed his keys onto the entry table, the metal clinking against the marble, then made his way through the hall.
Halfway up the stairs, he paused.
The faintest light seeped from under the door at the far end of the right wing. His room.
No… not his. The charity case's.
He scoffed under his breath and kept walking.
But when he reached his own door, something made him glance back.
Just once.
Then he disappeared inside without a word.
••••
-THE NEXT MORNING-
The soft chime of Jamie's alarm buzzed beside him.
He blinked against the early light spilling through the sheer black curtains. For a second, he forgot where he was—until the ceiling above reminded him he wasn't home anymore.
Philadelphia.
The DuPont house.
Right.
He sat up slowly, running a hand through his hair. The sheets were still cool, the air faintly scented with that sleek cologne of the house—rich, clean, almost intimidating.
Jamie got up, went through a quick morning routine, and dressed in a clean pair of jeans and a fitted cream-colored tee. Nothing flashy, just simple and neat. He added a chain his dad had given him around his neck—a quiet piece of home.
Grabbing his backpack, he glanced once more at the photo on the desk.
"You've got this," he murmured to himself, then stepped out.
The house was quiet. No sign of Draven.No cigarette and smoke.
He headed downstairs and made himself a quick breakfast—cereal and a banana—before slipping on his shoes and stepping out into the crisp morning air.
The driver Draven's father had arranged was already waiting outside, parked neatly at the curb in a sleek black sedan.
Jamie slid into the back seat, backpack pressed close to his side. His nerves twisting in his stomach as the car pulled away from the mansion.
Today was it.
His first day at Stanford University.
A world of brilliance, wealth, and ambition.
____
STANFORD UNIVERSITY
••Jamie Arrives at Campus••
The sleek black car pulled up to the entrance of Stanford University, and Jamie felt his heart skip a beat.
It was even bigger than he'd imagined.
Elegant red-brick buildings rose against the clear sky, bordered by perfectly manicured lawns and towering palm trees. Students moved in every direction—laughing, talking, typing on tablets, sipping overpriced coffee. Everyone looked like they belonged.
Jamie stepped out of the car slowly, backpack slung over his shoulder. He stood for a moment, soaking in the atmosphere.
The place was beautiful. Bold. Alive.
And intimidating as hell.
People brushed past him in tailored clothes and designer shoes. Some wore lanyards with gold-accented ID badges, chatting in fast, confident tones. A few glanced his way and then moved on without a second thought.
He inhaled deeply and let it out slow.
You're here now. You earned this.
He pulled his phone from his pocket, double-checked his class schedule, and started walking across the main quad toward his first class.
The deeper he went, the louder the buzz of campus life grew—student booths, art posters on bulletin boards, and even someone playing guitar under a shady tree.
And yet, Jamie still felt like a stranger in a world built for someone else.
But he kept going.
Because this was the dream.
No turning back now.
___
Jamie walked briskly through the main hall, following the digital campus map on his phone as he searched for Building 4B – Life Sciences.
Biology. First class of the day.
The thought alone sent his nerves flickering again.
He adjusted the strap of his backpack, eyes darting between the map and the hallway signs—until he turned a corner too quickly and—
Boom.
He collided shoulder-first into someone.
"Oh—crap, I'm so sorry!" Jamie blurted immediately, stepping back.
A girl staggered slightly but caught herself, blinking at him in surprise.
She was tall, slender, with rich caramel-toned skin and tight curls swept into a stylish bun. Her outfit was effortlessly cool—designer boots, a pleated skirt, and a loose ivory sweater.
She looked at him for a moment, sizing him up, then gave a quick smirk.
"First day?" she asked, brushing off her sleeve.
Jamie flushed. "That obvious?"
She laughed. "Only because you've got that 'please don't let me get lost and die here' face."
Jamie gave a sheepish grin. "That bad, huh?"
"Not bad. Just... cute." She extended a hand. "I'm Kairis Sterling,Pre-med. Second year."
Jamie shook her hand. "Jamie Hart. First year. Scholarship..."
Kairis grinned. "Well, you're in luck. I'm heading to Bio too. Come on—I'll show you."
And just like that, the weight in his chest eased a little.
As they walked toward the lecture hall, Jamie couldn't help but think—maybe the day wasn't starting off so badly after all.
____
BIOLOGY CLASS – FIRST PERIOD
Jamie followed closely behind Kairis Sterling as they entered the lecture hall. The space was huge—rows of tiered seating curving around a massive digital board, clean white walls, and soft ambient lighting that made the place feel more like a TED Talk stage than a college classroom.
The air was cool and smelled faintly of lemon disinfectant and expensive paper.
Students were already filling the seats, some tapping on tablets, others sipping iced coffee like their lives depended on it. Jamie hesitated for a second, taking it all in—the buzz, the confidence, the designer backpacks, the effortless chatter.
"Come on," Kairis said with a small nudge. "Sit with me before you psych yourself out."
Grateful, Jamie followed her to a spot somewhere in the middle—not too close to the front, but not hidden in the back either.
He took out his notebook and pen, refusing to let himself pull out his old, slightly cracked phone. The last thing he wanted was to look poor.
As they waited for the professor, Kairis leaned in and whispered, "Just a heads-up—Professor Levington doesn't play around. Guy's like a walking textbook with zero humor."
"Noted," Jamie whispered back, eyes scanning the high-tech digital board at the front of the room.
•••
Moments later, a tall, silver-haired man in a pressed black suit walked in and set his bag on the podium. The room went quiet like someone hit mute.
"Good morning," Professor Levington said, not even glancing up.
"Welcome to Biology 110. If you're in the wrong room, congratulations—you just failed your first day."
Some nervous laughter rippled through the room.
Jamie sat up straighter.
The lecture began, fast and relentless. Terms flew across the board—cellular respiration, organelle functions, genetic sequencing—and Jamie scribbled down notes as quickly as he could, his brain firing on overdrive.
But even in the chaos of it all, he felt something settle in his chest.
This—this was what he came here for.
Kairis passed him a small sticky note when the professor wasn't looking. It read:
You're doing fine. Just breathe.
He looked over and she smiled.
For the first time that day, Jamie smiled back—genuine and small.
___
As the lecture continued,Professor Levington's voice echoed across the lecture hall as he paced slowly in front of the digital board.
As he decided to ask a quick question.
"Now… who can tell me the primary function of mitochondria in relation to cellular metabolism—and don't just say 'powerhouse of the cell' like it's a meme."
A few chuckles scattered across the room, but no one raised a hand.
The silence stretched. Students glanced at one another, shifting in their seats.
Jamie's fingers tightened around his pen. He hesitated, then slowly lifted his hand.
Levington's sharp eyes landed on him. "Yes, you. Speak."
Jamie cleared his throat. "The mitochondria regulate cellular respiration by converting nutrients into ATP through oxidative phosphorylation. It's not just the 'powerhouse'—it's responsible for energy production and metabolic signaling across most eukaryotic cells."
A quiet beat passed.
Then Levington raised a brow. "Well. Someone actually reads."
A soft ripple of murmurs moved through the room.
"What's your name?" the professor asked, eyes still fixed on him.
"Jamie Hart," he said, sitting up a little straighter.
"Noted," Levington said flatly, then turned back to the board. "Try to keep up, the rest of you."
Jamie exhaled, barely noticing the small grin forming on Kairis's face beside him.
She leaned over and whispered, "Okay, Jamie Hart. Color me impressed."
Jamie gave a small, bashful smile before returning to his notes—but inside, something clicked. He wasn't just surviving here.
He belonged.
____
TWO HOURS LATER
The moment Professor Levington dismissed the class, students bolted from their seats like they'd been held hostage for an hour.
Jamie packed his notebook and pen slowly, still riding the high of answering that question correctly. Kairis nudged him with her shoulder as they walked out together.
"You seriously made that man smile," she said, shaking her head. "That's like making a statue laugh."
Jamie chuckled. "Pretty sure he was just surprised I knew what mitochondria actually do."
"Don't be modest. You nailed it."
They stepped into the late-morning sunlight. The campus buzzed with movement—bikes whirring past, skateboard wheels hitting the pavement, laughter echoing from a distant courtyard.
"Wanna grab lunch?" Kairis asked.
Jamie blinked. "Uh… yeah, actually. That'd be great."
She gave a half-grin. "Good. Because I was gonna drag you there either way."
----
CAFETERIA –12PM
The cafeteria looked like something out of a design magazine—airy, sophisticated, and far too beautiful to serve college food. Glass walls wrapped around the space, letting sunlight flood in from every angle. Modern light fixtures hung overhead, and the subtle aroma of roasted spices and baked bread lingered in the air.
Jamie followed Kairis in, trying not to gawk too much. He'd never seen a school cafeteria with real chefs behind the counters, carving meat and plating dishes like it was a five-star buffet.
The place was packed. Students in clusters, tables filled, trays clattering.
"Welcome to the madness," Kairis said, steering them toward the smaller section in the back where there were fewer eyes and more space to breathe.
They slid into a clean, empty table for two.
"Are we allowed to just sit?" Jamie asked quietly, eyes darting toward a group of laughing guys in varsity jackets.
"Relax, no one owns tables here," she said, waving over one of the attending staff.
A moment later, their meals were served—grilled chicken and rice with steamed veggies for Jamie, and a salmon quinoa bowl for Kairis. The kind of food Jamie only saw in glossy menus back home.
Jamie stared at his plate for a second before picking up his fork.
"You good?" Kairis asked, stabbing a piece of cucumber with her fork.
"Yeah," Jamie said, adjusting his tray. "Just… not used to someone serving me like this."
Kairis smiled. "You'll get used to it. Fast. This place might be bougie as hell, but it runs like a machine."
They started eating, and for the first time all day, Jamie felt himself settle a little. The food was good. The noise was oddly comforting. And Kairis? She made it feel less lonely.
"You're smart, by the way," she said between bites.
"That mitochondria answer? It was amazing."she added with a smile
Jamie chuckled softly. "Thanks. My dad's obsessed with science. He used to quiz me after dinner."
"Well, your dad helped you not get roasted by Professor Levington. He's infamous for embarrassing students on day one."
Jamie gave a small nod, smiling. "Noted."
They ate in comfortable silence for a while—
They ate quietly for a bit. The food was warm and perfectly seasoned, the kind Jamie had only seen on TV.
They both laughed softly, the moment light.
____
Jamie was mid-sentence, laughing softly at something Kairis had said, when the atmosphere around them shifted.
Not loudly.
But noticeably.
The hum of conversation dulled like someone had turned the volume down.
Jamie blinked. "Did it just get weirdly quiet?"
Kairis didn't answer at first—her eyes had already shifted past his shoulder.
He turned.
There he was.
Draven DuPont.
Dressed head-to-toe in black, tattoos curling from beneath his sleeves, a cigarette dangling lazily between his fingers. His presence was magnetic and intimidating all at once.
Beside him were two imposing figures—Lior, cocky smirk permanently etched on his face, and Talon, quiet, alert and watchful with an edge that said don't test me.
They moved like they owned the place.
Of course they did!!!
Draven barely looked at anyone, but people looked at him. Conversations halted. Eyes followed. Some girls whispered. Others stared openly. Even guys in varsity jackets shifted out of his path.
He didn't walk through the cafeteria.
He commanded it.
Jamie froze in his seat, back straightening without meaning to. His fork hovered midair.
___
Jamie and everyone else in the cafeteria were still watching Draven and his friends,as they settle into a corner table.
Kairis nudged him, her voice dropping just a little. Jamie turn his attention to her.
"That's Draven DuPont," she said, eyes fixed on the black-clad figure.
"He's Philadelphia Devil and the most respected and feared in Stanford and the city as a whole.He's popular address as DD"
Jamie raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
Kairis glanced at him, then continued in that knowing tone—half warning, half admiration.
"He's the kind of guy you don't cross. Most people respect him out of fear. And some... well, some think he's untouchable."
She shook her head, lips tight. "If you want to survive around here, you keep your distance."
Jamie swallowed, feeling the weight behind her words.
The Philadelphia Devil.
Really? He thought.
Jamie just ate in silence not saying anything.
___
Draven leaned back in his chair, exhaling a slow plume of smoke that curled upward like a dark ribbon. His eyes were sharp, scanning the room with practiced ease—always alert, always in control.
Lior smirked, flipping a coin between his fingers. "Man, this place is swarming today. Campus is buzzing like it's a festival or something."
Talon, silent and steady, nodded slightly. His gaze flicked to the other tables, ever watchful.
Lior leaned closer, voice low but teasing. "You still planning that move next week? Heard it's gonna shake things up."
Draven didn't answer right away. He crushed the cigarette in the ashtray with a precise flick.
"We keep things tight," he said finally, voice cold and measured. "No loose ends. No distractions."
Lior shrugged, grinning. "You're the boss. Just don't forget to enjoy the chaos a little."
Talon cracked a rare smirk. "Chaos is the only thing that keeps this city alive."
____
MINUTES LATER
The doors of the cafeteria swung open with effortless drama, as if the room itself was expecting her.
Vayla Van Alen stepped inside, a walking statement in soft pink silk. Her blazer clung to her figure just right, the pleated mini skirt swaying with every step. Long, glimmering blonde hair cascaded down her back, catching the sunlight like a halo. Diamond-studded hoops framed her sculpted face. Her heels clicked like a countdown.
Heads turned.
Voices dropped.
Phones tilted discreetly for pictures.
She didn't smile. She didn't need to. Her confidence did all the talking.
Trailing behind her were her two handpicked minions: Nolani, dressed in edgy pink leather with a glare sharp enough to cut glass, and Solenne, more refined but no less deadly in soft rose and pearls.
They walked like royalty.
And the cafeteria obeyed.
Jamie blinked, frozen mid-bite as the pink storm passed.
"Who is that?" he asked softly, eyes wide.
Beside him, Kairis rolled her eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn't fall out of her head. She leaned in and muttered under her breath:
"And here comes the bratty witch." Kairis mutters rolling her eyes
Jamie raised a brow.
"That's Vayla Van Alen," Kairis explained, voice dipped in dry sarcasm. "The Queen Bee of Stanford. Rich, spoiled, and exactly the kind of girl who thinks the world spins because she walks."
Jamie kept watching as Vayla struts in the cafeteria.
"She looks… powerful," he said honestly.
Kairis snorted. "She looks like a trust fund with legs. But yeah… she's powerful. In the 'I'll destroy your entire existence with just a single word' kind of way."
Jamie chuckled nervously but said nothing.
He could feel it—Vayla wasn't just popular.
She was dangerous.
---
Vayla didn't head to her usual table, instead she made her way across the cafeteria—her heels clicking like a countdown—heading straight for Draven DuPont's table. With Nolani and Solenne in perfect sync behind her.
Murmurs rippled across the room like a dropped match in a dry field.
Because everyone already knew where she was going.
With the swish of pink silk and perfume that announced her before she even spoke, Vayla made her way across the cafeteria—her heels clicking like a countdown—heading straight for Draven DuPont's table.
Lior grinned, nudging Talon with his elbow. Talon rolled his eyes without lifting his head. Draven didn't even look up.
Vayla didn't wait for an invitation.
Without a word, Vayla slid onto Draven's lap like she owns him.
While Nolani and Solenne sat next to Lior and Talon.
The scene of it sucked the air out of the room, they weren't expecting her to sit next to Draven after their break up a week ago.
Before anyone could react, she wrapped one perfectly manicured hand behind his neck and pulled him into a kiss—deep, slow, and painfully intentional.
Cameras clicked.
Gasps echoed.
The entire cafeteria paused, as if holding its breath.
But Draven?
He didn't even blink.
He let her kiss him.
He didn't pull away.
He didn't lean in.
He didn't kiss her back.
He simply sat there, unfazed, cigarette still burning between his fingers as her glossy lips moved against his.
She kissed him—slow and sultry, lips parted, one hand in his hair. She didn't rush. She wanted people to see, sending an indirect message to everyone that Draven is still hers.
Vayla finally pulled back, breath slightly heavy, her lipstick now smudged—but her pride intact.
She ran her hand slowly down his chest and gave a cat-like smile,unbothered by his coldness.
"I've missed this?" she purred.
Draven didn't say anything.His jaw flexed once as he just stared past her with that empty, ice-glazed expression he wore like armor.
•••
Across the room, Jamie sat frozen, completely stunned. His fork hung midair, forgotten. His eyes locked on the pink-clad girl in Draven's lap, trying to process what the hell he just witnessed.
Across the room, Jamie sat frozen at his table, eyes wide and jaw slightly dropped.
Actually he has never experienced this kind of scene before.
He hadn't expected such a scene.
Kairis barely glanced up from her phone as she sipped her drink.
Jamie looked at her, confused.
"They're—?"Jamie asks
Kairis finally glanced up.
"She's Draven sex mate and ex. It's so complicated" she said with a tone that made ex sound like a technicality.
"They are like the on and off couple, just last week they broke up and now she's kissing him, that's why everyone is surprised even though it's not the first time they've broken up"
"I've never seen anything like that before," he muttered, almost to himself.
Kairis shrugged. "Welcome to
Stanford."
____
Back to Draven and the other's..
Vayla leaned in close, a sly smile playing on her lips.
"Did you miss me, my demon?" she whispered.
Draven didn't answer. He just took a slow drag from his cigarette, eyes cold and unfazed.
From the side, Lior piped up with a cheeky grin,
"I thought you two broke up last week. What's with the kiss, then?"
Vayla shot him a fierce glare, cutting him off sharp:
"Fucking mind your damn business, arsehole."
Lior just smirked, unfazed.
Vayla turned her full attention to Draven as she slid in beside him, crossing one long leg over the other like she owned the entire table.
"I really missed you, you know," she said, her tone laced with a pout. "And I'm pissed you didn't call. Not one text. Not even a damn emoji. You ghosted me."
Draven didn't blink. He exhaled smoke from his nose and replied flatly, "Did you forget we just broke up?"
Vayla rolled her eyes with a scoff. "Please. It's not the first time we've 'broken up,' Draven. That's our thing."
Before Draven could speak, Talon cut in, his voice dry and cutting.
"Can you stop acting like his damn wife all time? It sucks " Talon said his voice icy and firm.
Vayla snapped her gaze to him with a sneer, but didn't dignify him with a reply.
She leaned in closer to Draven instead, her breath brushing his ear.
"I've missed your dick," she whispered, voice sultry and smooth. "Let's ditch this place. Head to the VIP lounge. Just you and me. Like always."
Draven's jaw tensed. His eyes stayed on the crowd ahead.
"Not in the mood, V," he muttered. "Maybe later tonight."
She smirked, trailing her fingers along the edge of his jaw. "Come on. You never say no to me."
Draven turned to her, voice cold as stone.
"Fuck you, bitch."
Vayla only grinned, unfazed. "I'm your bitch, baby. Always have been."
A tense beat.
Then Draven stood, flicking the last ash off his cigarette. "Let's go."
Draven and Vayla rose from their seat graciously. Draven slide his lighter back into his pocket with practiced ease. His cold gaze flicked to his boys.
"I'll see you guys later," he said. "Meet me at the VIP lounge."
Lior nodded, already grinning. "Got it, boss."
Talon just nodded in response.
Beside him, Vayla turned to her girls.
"I'll see you two soon."she said with a smile
Solenne gave her a wink. "Have fun, babe."
"See you V" Nolani mutters
Vayla gave them a small smirk before looping her arm through Draven's like she owned him. Together, they strolled out of the cafeteria like royalty leaving the throne room.
All eyes followed.
Whispers stirred. Phones were lifted. A few clicks here. A few side-eyes there.
At their table, Jamie blinked, silently watching the infamous pair disappear through the exit.
He turned back his attention to Kairis.
"Are they always like that?" Jamie asked, still staring.
Kairis shrugged. "Pretty much.
Jamie let out a breath. "This place is… intense."
"You'll get used to it," Kairis said with a small smile.
"So, what's your next class?"She asked
"Calculus for Life Sciences" Jamie answered
"Nice," she said.
"I know you'll do great" she added with a smile
"Thanks " Jamie mutters with a smile
"You're welcome " she winks at him
____
-PRIVATE LOUNGE-
The moment they stepped into the VIP lounge, Vayla didn't waste a second.
She crashed her lips into Draven's with desperate heat, her hands knotting into his shirt, clawing for something he hadn't offered in weeks. Her body molded against his, but he didn't move. Didn't respond. Just stood there, letting her try to light a fire in a man made of cold steel.
Draven's voice cut through the heat—cold, commanding. He stopped her,by breaking the kiss.
"No time for foreplay." He said his voice icy.
His tone brooked no argument.
He stepped back, eyes dark as night.
"Get on the edge of the bed. Now!" Draven commanded looking at her.
Vayla's breath caught. Heat curled low in her belly as she stepped back, undressing herself slowly under his gaze. Her smooth, glowing skin shimmered under the golden lights, curves bare, proud and unapologetic. Her medium size breasts stood firm, her hips full and inviting. And her ass round and soft,her skin glows in perfection.
She loved the way his eyes devoured her.
She leaned against the table just as he ordered—obedient, aroused, and trembling with anticipation. Her boobs pressing on the table's surface while her pussycat and ass were positioned in à perfect way, waiting to be fuvked.
really hard.
Draven's hands were steady as he unbuckled his belt, letting his pants fall, revealing his powerful, hard,veiny 9 inch lengthy monster dick. It was fully erected and ready for action.
With Vayla perfectly positioned at the edge of table, Draven walks towards her and stood behind her.
He used his left hand to spank her ass so hard,the sound echoing so loud in the room, leaving a red mark on her ass cheek.
"Aaaah" Vayla gasps her voice sexy.
He leaned over her slightly, one hand steadying her hip, the other tracing along her spine with reverent slowness.
Draven let out a low growl of satisfaction, as he slam hard in her with full force.
___
Draven began, pounding his cock in her wet cunt,so hard and rough with every thrust, making her body to jerk in pure ecstacy.
Mmmmm," she moans.
She arches, her round ass goes upward, he pull her hips to me, that smoking ass perches just above his groin. In position now, he gently stroke her pulsing clit. he could feel her wetness already, she is ready to go… he guide his cock underneath her ass, the head meets her sweet pussy lips, and he drive it inside. The pleasure of entering her is indescribable, she exhales and moans.
She kept on screaming and gasping for air,as he grunt deeply, and slide his hands up to her perfect medium size tits, squeezing them, squeezing the hard nipples as her body shakes with pleasure.
Draven continued thrusting hard, banging against the sexy ass raised high, giving her all his energy, grunting like an animal as he keep driving his hard throbbing cock ok into her… And she loves it, she just loves when he goes so wild and hard on her every damn time
"OH, Draven!" Vayla moans her breath increasing
""Don't stop… I want to feel all of you…"She begs
Draven slapped against her ass, with a fleshy slapping sound against her now shaking booty.
"fu*k oh, baby, harder," she mutters with her sultry tone.
Draven felt his orgasms welling in his groin, deep within his balls as he continue to drive his dick inside her.
With one last, deep thrust, Draven let go—his release crashing through him as he came inside her his entire body shuddering against hers.
She kept gasping and moaning as his juice fills her wide pussycat deeply.
His balls fell as he cum his load deep within her, he explode groaning.
"Gosh, I've so much missed this" she mutters as his body grinds and shakes against her soft ass.
"I love you baby,my demon'" She breathe.
"I need this every day every day, baby?!?!" she said contentedly, with a smile.
Draven pull out of her pussycat,his expression stoic and Cold as usual.
Draven pulled on his pants and jeans in silence, the room thick with leftover heat and tension. Without glancing her way, he lit a cigarette, taking a slow drag as smoke curled from his lips. His expression remained unreadable.
He walked over to the tall window, eyes fixed on the skyline, shoulders tense beneath the glow of the golden light.
Behind him, Vayla hummed softly as she dressed, a smug smile tugging at her lips. She adjusted her top, her gaze lingering on him with a familiar hunger as she sauntered toward him.
Just as she reached out to touch his back, his voice sliced through the air.
"Leave."
She blinked, caught off guard. "Leave? Are you serious right now, Drav?"
He didn't respond. Didn't even turn his head. He simply took another drag from his cigarette, smoke drifting lazily toward the ceiling.
"You know I don't like repeating myself," he said flatly.
Vayla scoffed, brushing a hand through her golden hair. "Come on, my demon. I just want a little time with you before my next class."
"I want to be alone. So get out."
His words were like ice water to the face—sharp, unapologetic.
"Please, Drav…" she muttered, voice dropping softer, more vulnerable. "Can't we just hang out for a bit? Like old times?"
He stayed silent.
She leaned a little closer, trying to reclaim the heat they'd just shared. "By the way… tell me—did you enjoy our little steamy moment?" she asked, biting her lip.
That finally earned her a look.
Draven turned his head slowly, his eyes landing on her like a blade.
"Leave, Vayla. Just f*cking get out. Now."
His tone held no affection. No lust. Nothing but steel.
Vayla's smile dropped. She grabbed her bag from the bed with a quiet scoff.
"Fine," she said, squaring her shoulders. "I'll leave—as you wish."
She paused at the door, casting one last glance over her shoulder. "I'll see you later. I love you."
She blew him a kiss before walking out, heels echoing on the marble floor.
Draven said nothing.
He just stood there, cigarette in hand, eyes on the distant skyline—his expression blank, unreadable, and lost somewhere far away.
••••
...STANFORD UNIVERSITY...
___
The afternoon sun cast a golden hue across the campus as students flooded out of their lecture hall, chatter echoing in every direction.
Jamie stepped out with Kairis by his side, both of them laughing lightly about the way their professor had mispronounced half the names on the roll.
They made their way across the lawn toward the parking lot, slipping past waves of students and idle clusters of friends. The breeze was soft, and for the first time that day, Jamie felt relaxed.
As they reached the rows of sleek cars, Kairis slowed beside her crimson red Tesla, unlocking it with a quiet beep.
"Want a ride?" she offered casually, leaning against the car. "Wherever you live—I can drop you."
Jamie hesitated for a second, then gave a small shake of his head. "Nah, it's okay. My… uh, driver's already here."
Kairis raised a brow. "A driver? Fancy."
Jamie just smiled, scratching the back of his neck. "Yeah, something like that."
"Well," she said, reaching into her bag for her phone, "we better exchange numbers, in case you get lost in this jungle of a campus tomorrow—or you just want someone to talk to."
"Of course" Jamie pulled out his phone, and they exchanged contacts quickly.
He looked up with a small grin. "I guess we're officially friends now."
Kairis grinned back. "Yeah. Friends."
They shook hands dramatically, both repeating at the same time, "Friends," before laughing.
"See you tomorrow, Jamie." Kairis said with a smile.
"Yeah." Jamie mutters
She slid into her Tesla and pulled off with ease, her music low but the confidence loud.
Jamie watched the car fade into the exit before turning toward the sleek black sedan waiting nearby. The driver stepped out, nodding at him silently as he opened the door.
Jamie glanced back once at the parking lot, at the campus, at the life he was just starting.
Then he slid into the car, the door shutting quietly behind him.
The sleek black sedan pulled away from the parking lot.
______
MINI-MANSION — EVENING
The sky had begun to shift into shades of dusky gold and violet, casting long shadows across the sleek exterior of the black glass-walled house.
Jamie had just finished his call with his dad—a warm check-in that left him smiling softly. He'd told him about the first day of school, the overwhelming campus, and how, surprisingly, he'd already made a friend. That part felt good to say out loud.
But now the house was quiet again. Too quiet.
Jamie stepped out of his room, descending the staircase quietly. He padded through the glass-paneled hallway and opened one of the tall, automatic sliding doors that led out into the backyard.
The cool evening air brushed his skin as he walked into the wide open space.
He decided to take a stroll at the backyard, along the pool area.
Just as he rounded the corner of the open space leading towards the pool,he stopped dead in his tracks.
There, half-submerged at the far end of the infinity pool, was Draven.
Naked.
The water shimmered around him, moonlight sliding over his shoulders and chest like silk. His wet hair was slicked back, dark against his sharp features. He sat at the edge of the pool, elbows braced behind him, chest rising and falling slowly.
Then a soft sound broke the air.
A low, guttural moan.
Barely audible… but real.
Jamie froze.
His breath hitched the moment he registered what he was seeing—Draven, skin glistening under the moonlight, body lean, powerful, almost predatory in its calm.
There was something deeply private about the moment—something Jamie shouldn't be witnessing.
Draven was giving himself a blow job,his right palm is wrapped carefully around his 9 inch long, veiny and hard monster dick,as he stroke it slowly with his fingers. His eyes were closed, mouth open and head lifted up as he get lost in the ecstacy of the moment.
Seeing him in such a state, Jaime knew he should turn back and look away but he didn't know what held him back as he peep, watching Draven pleasuring himself.
He couldn't just look away,he knew he should turn back. He knew this was wrong.
But his body betrayed him.
A pulse beat through his chest, hot and fast. His throat tightened, and an unfamiliar heat curled low in his stomach. His fingers twitched at his sides, restless. The longer he stared, the more intense the pull became.
He swallowed hard, face flushed with something close to shame—but also… something else.
Something dangerous and strange.
He didn't understand it—not fully.
But he felt it.
Draven's quiet moans echoed faintly in the still air, sending shockwaves through Jamie's nerves.
His heart pounded so wild in his ribcage
Then Draven moved.
Just the shift of his head, a slight tilt toward the sound of the wind and towards the direction Jamie stood peeping at him.
Jamie snapped out of it, spun around, and slipped back into the shadows as quietly as he could.
His face burned. His mind raced.
And no matter how much he tried to will the feeling away...
His body wasn't listening.
He rushed back inside, and ran upstairs to his room. Going into the bathroom as fast as he could.
_____
JAMIE'S BATHROOM
Jamie stumbled into the bathroom, flicking on the light with a shaky hands. The mirror met him with a reflection that looked far more shaken than he expected.
His face was flushed. His curls a little damp from the night breeze. His eyes wide—almost wild.
What the hell is happening to me? He thought..
He braced both hands on the sink and leaned in, staring at himself like the answer might be buried somewhere behind his own refection.
It's not what I think. I'm not… I'm not like that. I'm not gay. Right?. I'm a straight guy not gay"He said to himself staring at his reflection in the mirror.
But how could he feel horny seeing a naked guy, masturbating.
This doesn't feel right,he shouldn't be feeling horny because he's not gay. He's a straight guy, even though he hasn't dated or fuvked a girl before. But he knows he's a straight guy.
But the heat in his chest hadn't faded.
His throat still felt tight.
His body… still felt too awake.
He still felt so hot and horny down there.
This was actually the first time he has felt horny, but why does it has to be because of a guy and not just any but Draven.
Jamie clenched his jaw, letting out a shaky breath as he turned on the tap and cupped water into his hands.
He splashed his face once. Twice. The cold sting snapped against his skin, but the rush of thoughts didn't slow down.
He hated the way Draven made him feel. Like he was small. Like he didn't belong.
And yet this same Draven had just burned into his mind in a way he couldn't shake or understand.
This wasn't just about curiosity anymore.
It was something else. Something he couldn't name yet.
But whatever it was—it terrified him.
____
❤️🔥....TO BE CONTINUED....❤️🔥