Chapter 1: A Blonde Distraction
The brick pathway was a narrow artery between the science building’s stern facade and the library’s older, ivy-clad walls. Late afternoon sun sliced through the gaps, painting dappled shadows on the pavement that shifted with the crowd. Ryli shouldered her way through, the worn leather of her backpack hitting her hip with each stride. The air smelled of spilled coffee, old books, and the faint, always-present chalk dust from the lecture halls.
She was half-listening to her sister. Kayla walked beside her, a whirl of energy in a pastel sweater, hands flying as she recounted something about a weekend party, a spilled drink, a boy whose name Ryli had already forgotten.
“—and then he just stood there, like a statue, with pickle juice all down his—”
“Uh huh,” Ryli said, her eyes scanning the sea of backpacks and hoodies out of habit, not interest. Her gaze was a filter, dismissing most faces as background noise.
A flash of blonde hair, bright as a beam of the setting sun, cut through her peripheral vision. It was attached to a figure moving the other way, brushing past them close enough that Ryli caught a scent—clean linen and something green, like rain on grass.
The girl smiled, a quick, warm thing directed at Kayla. “Hey Kayla!”
Her voice was lighter than Ryli expected, clear and melodic without trying to be.
“Cadence! Hi!” Kayla chirped back, waving.
And then she was gone, absorbed back into the current of students, a glimpse of an oversized grey hoodie and jeans.
Ryli stopped walking. Her brain, usually a engine of cynical, running commentary, stuttered to a halt. The noisy pathway seemed to drop in volume, the colors sharpening. She saw the way a few stray strands of that blonde hair had caught the light, turning translucent. The dusting of freckles over the bridge of her nose and across her cheeks, like someone had flicked a paintbrush. The startling blue of her eyes, already crinkled from the smile.
“Ry?” Kayla had taken two steps ahead before realizing she’d lost her. She turned, frowning. “You okay? You look like you just saw a ghost.”
“Who,” Ryli said, her voice coming out rougher than she’d intended. She cleared her throat, trying to sound casual and failing. She never failed at casual. “Who was that?”
Kayla’s frown melted into a slow, knowing smile. It was a smile Ryli knew well—her sister’s ‘I’ve got a secret’ smile. “Who, Cadence?”
“The blonde. The one who said hey.” Ryli couldn’t stop herself from glancing back over her shoulder, but the crowd had swallowed her.
“That’s Laney’s sister. Cadence Stover. She’s a junior. Why?” Kayla’s smile widened. “She’s pretty, right?”
Ryli forced a scoff, starting to walk again, her long legs forcing Kayla into a half-jog to keep up. “She’s fine. Whatever.” But the word ‘fine’ felt like a lie so massive it should have choked her. Fine was for a decent sandwich. Fine was for weather that wasn’t raining. That girl, Cadence, was a seismic event Ryli hadn’t felt coming.
“She’s super nice,” Kayla continued, happily oblivious to the tectonic shift happening inside her sister. “Like, genuinely. Doesn’t talk much, though. Keeps to herself and her two friends. Laney says she’s never even dated anyone. Can you believe that?”
Yes, Ryli thought instantly, irrationally. The idea of someone like that—someone who smelled of rain and had stardust on her skin—wasting time with any of the clowns on this campus was offensive.
“Weird,” Ryli said out loud, because she had a reputation to uphold.
They reached the edge of the quad where Ryli’s Charger sat, black and gleaming faintly under the canopy of an old oak. It rumbled to life with a deep, throaty growl that usually settled something in her. Today, it just sounded loud.
“So, can you give Laney and me a ride to The Grind?” Kayla asked, buckling in. “She’s meeting me there. Cadence might be there too, actually, she sometimes studies in the back.”
Ryli’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “I’m not a taxi service.”
“Please? It’s on your way to the gym.”
She was right. It was. Ryli peeled out of the parking spot with a little more force than necessary, the tires chirping. “Five minutes. I’m not waiting.”
The Grind was a hole-in-the-wall coffee shop tucked between a laundromat and a vacant storefront, its windows perpetually steamy. Ryli double-parked, letting the engine idle. “Go on. I’ll wait.”
“You should come in! I’ll buy you a cold brew.”
“Kayla.”
“Fine, fine.” Kayla rolled her eyes and hopped out, disappearing inside the foggy door.
Ryli drummed her fingers on the gear shift. The gym called to her—the clank of weights, the burn in her muscles, a predictable world of strain and release. But her eyes were fixed on the coffee shop window. She saw Kayla hug her friend Laney, a brunette with a loud laugh. And then, in a far corner, half-hidden by a large, thriving monstera plant, she saw the grey hoodie.
Cadence was sitting alone, a massive textbook open in front of her, one hand curled around a mug, the other pushing her hair behind her ear. She was frowning slightly at the page, her brow furrowed in concentration. She took a slow sip of her drink, and Ryli watched the delicate line of her throat as she swallowed.
A feeling, hot and strange and entirely unfamiliar, coiled in Ryli’s stomach. It wasn’t just wanting. It was a sucker-punch of awareness, a hyper-focus that shut out everything else—the noise of the street, the thrum of her own car, the very fact that she was staring like a creep. She saw the way Cadence’s lower lip caught between her teeth as she read, the tiny shrug of her shoulder to adjust the hoodie. She was completely absorbed, unaware of the world, and it made her seem incredibly, painfully far away.
Kayla reappeared at the passenger window, rapping on the glass. Ryli jumped, a jolt of adrenaline shooting through her. She’d been caught.
But Kayla just waved, holding up a to-go cup. “Got it! Thanks for the ride!” She leaned in, her voice muffled through the glass. “By the way, Cadence looked up when I said your name. Just thought you’d want to know.”
Then she was gone, skipping back toward the shop.
Ryli sat frozen, her heart doing something stupid and frantic against her ribs. She shoved the car into drive and pulled away, the tires screeching this time. She drove too fast toward the gym, trying to outrun the echo of Kayla’s words.
Cadence looked up when I said your name.
It didn’t mean anything. Kayla was a little instigator. Cadence had probably looked up because a noise had disturbed her studying. That was all.
But for the first time in her life, Ryli’s cool, controlled interior felt scorched. The image of those blue eyes, the scatter of freckles, the quiet curve of a shoulder under grey fabric, was burned onto the back of her eyelids. It was inconvenient. It was irritating.
It was all she could think about. And as she slammed her locker shut at the gym, the metallic clang echoing in the empty room, one thought, clear and undeniable, rose above the noise: she had to see her again.
And as she slammed her locker shut at the gym, the metallic clang echoing in the empty room, one thought, clear and undeniable, rose above the noise: she had to see her again.
The workout was a failure. Every lift felt off-rhythm, every sprint on the treadmill just filled the time until she could check her phone. She showered quickly, the water too hot, and drove home to her off-campus apartment in a blur of streetlights.
Her phone lit up on the kitchen counter as she poured a glass of water. A notification. Snapchat: Cadence Stover added you as a friend.
Ryli stared. The water glass hovered halfway to her mouth. A slow, unfamiliar curl of heat spread through her chest. She opened the app, her thumb hesitating for only a second before tapping ‘Add Back’.
Almost immediately, a chat window opened.
Cadence: hey. kayla gave me your snap. hope that’s ok.
Ryli leaned against the counter, the cool granite biting into her palms. She typed, deleted, typed again.
Ryli: It’s fine.
Ryli: Saw you at the Grind earlier.
Cadence: yeah? i was buried in organic chem. a walking tragedy.
Cadence: kayla says you’re always at the gym. dedication.
The messages were simple, but Ryli read them three times, parsing tone where there probably wasn’t any.
Ryli: Something like that. Better than organic chem.
Cadence: anything is better than organic chem. even a root canal.
Cadence: what’s your secret? for the dedication.
Ryli: Hate most things. Lifting’s one I don’t.
Cadence: that’s a mood. i just bake when i hate things. our floor smells like a sad bakery during finals.
A laugh punched out of Ryli, harsh and surprised in the quiet apartment. She couldn’t remember the last time a text conversation didn’t feel like a duty.
Ryli: What do you bake?
Cadence: mainly cookies. sometimes brownies when i’m feeling dramatic.
Cadence: i could bring you one. a peace offering for snapping you out of the blue.
Ryli’s breath caught. She looked at the words, the easy, gentle offer. It wasn’t a line. It was just… kind.
Ryli: You don’t have to do that.
Cadence: i know. i want to.
Cadence: maybe tomorrow? i’m in the library all day. third floor by the weird statue that looks like a melted fork.
Another laugh. Ryli felt off-balance, a sensation so foreign it was like vertigo. This wasn’t flirting. This was… softer. A quiet, persistent dismantling of every wall she had.
Ryli: I’ll find it. I’m in black.
Cadence: pretty sure i’ll recognize you.
Cadence: goodnight, ryli.
The way her name looked in Cadence’s text, spelled out so completely, did something to her. It felt significant.
Ryli: Night, Cadence.
She put the phone down, screen facing the counter. She walked to her bedroom, the silence of the apartment suddenly dense and humming. She lay on her bed, hands behind her head, staring at the ceiling. Their conversation replayed in her mind. The gentle teasing. The easy warmth. Cadence’s softness wasn’t performative or weak; it was a steady, quiet force. And it was making Ryli’s blood sing a frantic, low song in her veins.
The thought of Cadence in the library, freckles under the fluorescent lights, frowning at a chemistry book, offering a cookie… it was disarmingly sweet. It sparked a fierce, possessive protectiveness. But it also ignited a sharper, more urgent hunger.
Her body reacted, a low, insistent thrum of want that was entirely different from the blunt physicality she was used to. This was specific. It was tied to a voice, a scent, a specific curve of a smile sent via text. The feeling pooled, hot and demanding, and she felt herself stiffen, a thick, heavy weight against her thigh, straining against the fabric of her sweatpants.
She groaned, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes. This was absurd. A few texts. A girl she’d seen twice. But Cadence’s gentle tone, the genuine curiosity in her questions, the unassuming offer of a cookie—it was the exact opposite of everything Ryli usually attracted. It was bypassing every defense. The need wasn’t just in her head; it was a full, aching pressure, eleven inches of frustrated proof that her body was already invested in a fantasy it barely understood.
She shifted, the friction a sharp, maddening tease. This wasn’t going away. The image of Cadence’s blue eyes looking up from her phone, that soft mouth, was now permanently fused with a raw, physical ache. Tomorrow in the library suddenly felt like both a reward and a form of exquisite torture.
She rolled onto her side, punching her pillow into a new shape, the coarse cotton cool against her cheek. The apartment was dark, silent except for the low hum of the refrigerator. Sleep was a distant country. All she could see was blonde hair and stardust freckles, and all she could feel was a desperate, heavy want that had no roadmap, no precedent, and absolutely no mercy.
All she could see was blonde hair and stardust freckles, and all she could feel was a desperate, heavy want that had no roadmap, no precedent, and absolutely no mercy.
It was unbearable. The throb was a physical echo of Cadence’s name in her head. Ryli shoved a hand beneath the waistband of her sweatpants, her own touch clinical and rough at first, just pressure against the insistent ache. But it wasn’t enough. The fantasy supplied the details her memory had greedily collected: the soft hitch of a voice saying “hey,” the vulnerable line of a neck, the imagined texture of freckled skin under her mouth.
Her breath hitched. This wasn’t like the detached, almost bored release she occasionally granted herself. This was frantic. Visceral. She bit down on her own lip to stifle a sound, her other hand fisting in the sheets. The image solidified—Cadence in that library corner, looking up with those blue eyes, but this time the look was for her, wide and wanting. The mental Cadence wouldn’t look away. She’d hold Ryli’s gaze, she’d—
A harsh groan ripped from Ryli’s throat as the climax took her, sharp and surging, a wave of temporary, draining relief that left her shuddering. She lay there, arm flung over her eyes, breathing ragged in the sudden, guilty silence. The emptiness that followed was almost worse. It felt cheap. A pathetic reduction of whatever strange, terrifying thing had begun on that brick pathway.
The library’s third floor was a tomb of hushed concentration. Ryli moved through the stacks like she was stalking prey, her black jeans and tight black tank top making her feel both exposed and like a shadow. The air smelled of dust and aged paper. She spotted the “melted fork” statue, a tarnished silver atrocity on a pillar.
And there she was.
Cadence was curled in a deep armchair, a knitted beige blanket over her legs, her textbook splayed open like a wounded bird. Her hair was in a messy bun, a pencil stuck through it. She was chewing on the end of a highlighter, her forehead creased in thought.
Ryli’s mouth went dry. The frantic energy from last night condensed into a sharp, vibrating point in her chest. She walked over, her boots silent on the industrial carpet.
“You found the fork,” she said, her voice low.
Cadence jumped, the highlighter falling from her mouth. A faint pink flush crept up her neck, staining her freckles. “Ryli. Hi.” She blinked, quickly smoothing a hand over her hair. “You’re… right on time.”
“I’m a lot of things. Never late.” Ryli leaned a shoulder against a bookshelf, crossing her arms. The pose felt like a performance. “So. Where’s my peace offering?”
Cadence’s lips curved into a small, real smile. She bent, rummaging in a canvas bag at her feet, and pulled out a small wax paper packet. “I went with a chocolate chip. It’s a safe bet.”
Ryli took it. Their fingers brushed. The contact was static, a jolt that traveled straight up her arm. She unwrapped the cookie. It was perfectly round, studded with chips. She took a bite. It was still slightly soft, sweet with a hint of salt. It was, objectively, the best cookie she’d ever tasted. “Not bad, Stover.”
“High praise,” Cadence said, watching her. “You lift, you wear black, you have a scary car. I didn’t have you pegged as a cookie connoisseur.”
“I’m full of surprises.” Ryli took another bite, nodding at the textbook. “The tragic walking continues?”
“It’s a slow, painful death.” Cadence sighed, sinking deeper into the chair. “I’ve read this page eight times. The words have stopped making sense.”
“Maybe you need a break.”
“What did you have in mind?”
The question hung there, simple and loaded. Ryli hadn’t thought this far. Every interaction she’d ever engineered was about a clear, swift conclusion. This was a winding, unknown path. “Coffee. A real one. Not the swill they pump in here.”
Cadence glanced at her notes, then back at Ryli. A silent calculation. “Okay. Yeah. I could use air that doesn’t smell like despair and librarians.” She started shoving her things into her bag with a clumsy haste that Ryli found utterly captivating.
They walked out together, the silence between them not empty, but charged. Ryli was hyper-aware of the space between their arms, the sound of Cadence’s breathing, the way she bit her lip again as they pushed through the heavy library doors into the bright afternoon.
“Your sister thinks you’re intimidating,” Cadence said suddenly, squinting in the sunlight.
“Kayla talks too much.”
“She adores you. It’s kind of cute.” Cadence adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder. “She also said you’ve never brought anyone to family dinner.”
Ryli stiffened. “What’s your point?”
“No point.” Cadence looked at her then, her blue eyes clear and direct. “Just an observation. It makes you seem… unapproachable.”
“I am unapproachable.”
“Yet here I am,” Cadence said softly, “approaching.”
Ryli stopped walking. They were in the middle of the quad, students flowing around them like water around stones. She looked down at Cadence, at the sun catching the gold in her hair, at the defiant, gentle set of her mouth. The usual script was ash in her mind. “Why?”
Cadence held her gaze, unflinching. “Your texts weren’t boring. And you looked at me yesterday on the path like you’d never seen a person before.” She shrugged, the gesture so casual it belied the weight of the words. “It was interesting.”
Ryli’s heart was a hammer against her ribs. She had been seen. Not just looked at, but seen. It was terrifying. It was exhilarating.
“Interesting,” Ryli repeated, the word a placeholder for everything churning inside her.
“Yeah,” Cadence said. A slow smile spread across her face, transforming it, making the stardust freckles dance. “So, are we getting that coffee or are you just going to stand there looking terrifying?”
Ryli felt an answering smile twist her own lips, a real one, unfamiliar on her face. “Lead the way, baker.”
As they fell into step again, Ryli’s phone buzzed in her pocket. A text from Kayla: so??? where are u??
She didn’t answer. For the first time, something—someone—was more important than her sister’s demands. The realization was a cliff edge. She had no idea what was on the other side, only that she was already stepping off.