I wasn't paying attention.
Not to the lectures. Not to the latest texts from some girl I couldn't even name. Not to Austin, who was rambling about something dumb again.
I was watching her.
The girl from this morning. The one who crashed into me like a goddamn cartoon.
Long black hair, all the way down to her hips. A pink scarf that didn't belong in this grey-ass London fog. Big eyes. Big voice, too—even if she only used it to say "sorry" and then glare at me like I was the one who ran into her.
I hadn't stopped thinking about her.
Which was ridiculous, considering I didn't even know her name. All I knew was she smelled like vanilla and books. And that she blinked twice before looking me straight in the eyes like I wasn't supposed to exist in her bubble of sunshine.
She looked like trouble.
Not the usual kind I brought home, but the kind that sticks to your skin. The kind that burns a little when she laughs. The kind that'd wreck you and smile while doing it.
"What are you staring at?" Austin asked, sliding into the seat beside me in the back of the lecture hall.
"Nothing."
He followed my gaze.
"Oh. Her," he smirked. "New girl. Scholarship student, I heard. Cute, right?"
I didn't answer.
Because "cute" wasn't the word.
She was chaos in a cardigan.
And I was already in too deep.