Chapter 1: Sera's POV
The evening air on campus was cool and carried the faint, damp smell of recent rain. I hiked the strap of my overloaded backpack higher on my shoulder, my worn-in boots making soft, crunching sounds on the gravel path. The library loomed ahead, a concrete monument of knowledge, its windows glowing like distant lanterns in the creeping twilight.
I loved this time, when most of the students had retreated to dorms or parties and the grounds were quiet. I could hear my own thoughts. Well, mostly. Tonight, a faint, prickling sensation was interfering.
It started at the base of my neck—a gentle heat that made the fine hairs stand up. I slowed my pace, pretending to adjust the cuff of my denim overalls. I glanced casually over my shoulder. The path was empty, shadowy between the pools of light from the lampposts. Just the silhouettes of oak trees, their branches stretching like grasping arms. I shook my head, chiding myself. Too much caffeine, not enough sleep.
I took a few more steps. The feeling intensified. It was a pressure, a specific, focused attention. It felt like a physical touch between my shoulder blades. I stopped, turned fully this time, my long auburn braid swinging over my shoulder.
“Hello?” My voice sounded small in the vast quiet.
A figure detached itself from the deep shadow beside the history building. He moved into the ochre light of a path lamp, and the familiar, too-perfect features resolved into a smile.
Sebastian "Bash" Montgomery.
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, my hand flying to my chest to steady my racing heart. "Bash. God, you nearly gave me a heart attack."
He didn’t apologize. Instead, he closed the distance between us with the predatory grace of someone who had never been told no in his life. He stopped just inches from me, his presence radiating a heat that the Portland mist couldn’t touch. He tilted his head, his eyes tracking the way my pulse hammered in the hollow of my throat.
"Liar. You weren’t scared," he murmured, his voice dropping into that low, intimate register that made my toes curl in my boots. "You were obviously thinking about me naked. That's why your heart's racing."
I sputtered, my mouth falling open as a wave of heat crashed over me. I could feel the blush blooming across my cheeks, turning me a shade of beet-red that probably glowed in the dark. "I—I most certainly was not! I was thinking about... statistics! And not dying in the rain!"
Bash chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that I felt in my chest. He reached out, his fingers grazing my shoulder as he effortlessly slipped my heavy backpack off my shoulders.
"Look at that blush," he teased, his grin widening as he hooked a thumb into the strap. "You're a terrible liar, Little Bellwether. It's lucky you have me to take care of you."
"Hey! I can carry that," I protested, trying to ignore the way my face was still throbbing with heat.
"Not while I'm breathing, you can't." He started walking, carrying my life’s work as if it weighed nothing at all. "Besides, I have to take care of my future wife. It’s in the contract."
I rolled my eyes, though my heart did a traitorous little flip. "We don't have a contract, Bash. And you've been saying that since freshman orientation. Don't you have a cheerleader to go annoy?"
"They don’t have your brain, Sera. Or your sass." He leaned down, his face inches from mine again. "One of these days, you’re going to stop fighting it. I’m going to marry you, buy you that bakery, and you’re going to be the prettiest girl in the NFL stands. Mark my words."
"In your dreams, Montgomery," I whispered.
“Statistics, right? Gardner’s class?” he asked, nodding at the bag as we walked.
I blinked, surprised. “Yeah. How did you know?”
He shrugged, a fluid, easy motion. “I pay attention. Also, I saw the cover when you pulled it out in the student union last week. You had a highlighter behind your ear and you were muttering about standard deviations. It was cute.”
I felt a blush creep up my cheeks, grateful for the low light. I hadn’t seen him there. The idea that he’d noticed me, absorbed that level of mundane detail, was unsettling. Flattering, but unsettling. I dismissed it. He was just being nice. Bash Montgomery was nice to everyone; it was part of his golden-boy charm.
“Cute isn’t the word I’d use. More like deranged,” I laughed.
“I stand by cute.”
We reached the heavy library doors. He pulled one open for me, holding it with an easy strength. The wave of warm, book-scented air washed over us. The emptiness of the atrium was profound, a stark contrast to its daytime bustle. Our footsteps echoed on the marble.
“So, a late night study session? Hardcore,” he said, following me as I wound my way toward my favorite carrel on the third floor.
“It’s the only time it’s quiet enough for this stuff to actually make sense,” I said, sliding into the wooden chair. He pulled out the chair opposite me, not asking if he could join. He just did. He took up a lot of space, not just physically. His presence seemed to fill the quiet corner, shifting the energy.
I unpacked my textbook, my notebook, my array of pens. He watched, his chin resting on his fist. He didn’t pull out any work of his own.
“You’re not studying?” I asked.
“I am. I’m studying you.”
I rolled my eyes, a genuine grin touching my lips. “Okay, that was terrible. Save the lines for the adoring masses, Montgomery.”
He laughed, a rich, unforced sound that bounced softly off the shelves. “Fine, you caught me. I just needed a break from my apartment. My roommate is trying to learn the drums. It’s a war crime.” He reached over and tapped the open page of my textbook. “So, this is the nemesis. You know, I’m not bad with numbers. Player stats, game theory… it’s all just numbers and math.”
“You offering to tutor me?” I joked, highlighting a problematic formula.
“Maybe. I do know exactly what you need.”
Something about the way he said it, the soft certainty, made me glance up. His eyes were on my face, not the book. They were a very deep blue, and in the sterile library light, they seemed intensely focused. The prickling feeling from the walk returned for a second. But then he smiled again, and the moment broke.
“What I need is for this to magically absorb into my brain via osmosis,” I sighed.
We fell into an easy rhythm. He was surprisingly funny, making dry comments about the textbook’s droning examples, inventing ridiculous statistical scenarios involving our professors. I found myself laughing, the sound too loud in the silent library, and clapping a hand over my mouth. He looked delighted each time he made me snort.
For an hour, it was just… nice. He was charming and engaging, and I let myself forget the strange start to our encounter. This was just Bash, the campus celebrity, being friendly. It didn’t mean anything.
He was explaining a concept to me, turning the book around to show me a graph, when I happened to glance at the digital clock on the library wall.
9:47 PM.
A jolt of pure adrenaline shot through me. “Oh, crap,” I breathed, the color draining from my face.
“What’s wrong?” Bash’s playful demeanor vanished, replaced by immediate concern.
“I… I lost track of time. I have to go. I’m going to be late.” I started shoving my things into my backpack with frantic haste. The carefully organized pens scattered, one rolling off the table. He caught one mid-air.
“Late for what? The library closes at eleven, you’ve got time.” His gaze was sharp, missing nothing.
“It’s not that. I have a… a thing. A work thing.” I couldn’t look at him. Sugar had to be on stage by 11:30. “It’s just a late-night shift. At a club. Cleaning up.”
The lie tasted sour. I swung my bag onto my back. “Thanks for the company, Bash. Really. It helped.”
I sidestepped him, my shoulder brushing against the shelf. I felt his eyes boring into my back as I speed-walked toward the stairwell.
“Sera,” he called out, his voice calm but carrying. I paused, one hand on the cold metal door. “Be careful out there. It’s dark.”
I gave a hurried wave without turning. “Always am!”
Then I pushed through the door and took the stairs two at a time, the sound of my frantic descent echoing in the concrete chamber. By the time I hit the bottom, I was already unbraiding my hair, shaking out the long, auburn curls. I burst out of a side exit into the night, gulping the cool air.
Sera was gone. It was time for Sugar to take over.