The Blackwood University library was a cathedral of glass and silence. Elena sat at a secluded corner table, her eyes burning from staring at the same paragraph for twenty minutes.
She wasn't studying. She was counting her remaining balance. After paying for textbooks, she had exactly $42.00 left for the month.
"You look like you're calculating the end of the world," a cheerful voice broke her concentration.
Elena looked up. Standing there was a guy with messy blonde hair and a lopsided grin that reached his eyes—eyes that didn't hold the cold judgment she had seen in everyone else's today. He was wearing a Blackwood soccer jersey and carrying a stack of books that looked suspiciously like light reading.
"Just calculating if I can afford a second meal today," Elena joked weakly, trying to cover her notebook.
"I'm Theo," he said, sliding into the seat opposite her without waiting for an invitation. "And if you're looking at Thorne's Macroeconomics syllabus, you're going to need more than a meal. You're going to need a miracle or a very good therapist."
Elena couldn't help it; she laughed. It was the first time she had felt the weight in her chest lighten since she stepped onto campus. "I'm Elena. And I think I'll take the miracle."
"Well, Elena, I'm the captain of the soccer team, which means I have access to the best 'survival' notes on campus. Want to trade? My notes for… let's say, you telling me how you managed to make Julian Blackwood look like he swallowed a lemon in class today?"
Elena's smile faltered. "You saw that?"
"Everyone saw that. Julian hasn't reacted to a human being like that in years. Usually, he just looks through people like they're made of glass." Theo leaned in, his expression turning genuine. "You've got guts. I like guts."
Before Elena could respond, the temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.
A shadow fell over their table.
"The library is for studying, Van Halen. Not for scouting new groupies," Julian's voice sliced through the air.
He was standing behind Elena, his hand resting—almost possessively—on the back of her chair. His knuckles brushed the fabric of her hoodie, and even through the layers, Elena felt a jolt of electricity that made her sick.
Theo didn't look intimidated. He leaned back, crossing his arms. "Lighten up, Blackwood. I was just offering Elena some help. Since, you know, you seemed more interested in threatening her than being a partner."
Julian's grip on the chair tightened. "She's my partner. Her grades are my business. Which means she's my responsibility. Get lost."
"Responsibility?" Elena stood up, her chair scraping loudly. "I am not a project, Julian. And I'm certainly not yours."
She turned to Theo, giving him a small, defiant smile. "I'd love to see those notes, Theo. Maybe we can grab coffee tomorrow?"
Theo's grin widened into something triumphant. "It's a date. I'll text you."
As Theo walked away, the air between Elena and Julian turned combustible. Julian stepped into her space, forcing her back against the table. He was so close she could see the flecks of gold in his dark eyes—eyes that were currently filled with a terrifying, quiet rage.
"A date?" he hissed. "You've been on campus for six hours and you're already throwing yourself at the first guy who smiles at you?"
"It's called being a normal human being, Julian. You should try it sometime," she snapped.
"He's using you to get to me, Elena. Don't be a fool."
"And what are you using me for?" she challenged, her voice trembling. "To punish me for a crime I didn't commit? To feel powerful?"
Julian's gaze dropped to her lips for a split second—a moment of pure, raw hunger that he quickly masked with a sneer. He reached out, plucking the cheap, plastic pen from her hand.
"I'm using you to win," he said coldly. "Be at my dorm at 8:00 PM tonight. We have a project to start. And Elena?"
He leaned down, his breath warm against her ear, sending a traitorous shiver down her spine.
"If I see you with him again, I'll make sure his scholarship vanishes along with yours. I don't like people touching what's mine."
He dropped the pen. It clattered on the table as he turned and walked away, leaving Elena shaking with a mixture of fury and a feeling she refused to acknowledge.
He still thought he owned her.
But the worst part? A small, dark part of her heart had sparked at the word 'mine.'