Ava's POV
It happened in the hallway.
Not with drama.
Not with sparks flying.
Just… silence. Too quiet for comfort.
Ava was late to her elective—Art Theory and Symbolism—her sketchbook clutched against her chest, boots echoing on the polished floors of the east wing. The building was mostly empty this time of morning, filled with that soft, museum-like hush that only made every step feel louder.
She turned the corner too quickly.
And collided with someone.
Sketchbook slipped. Her shoulder slammed into something firm—someone. She stumbled, breath catching, and—
Strong hands steadied her.
"Careful," came a voice. Low. Smooth. Like velvet dragged over stone.
She looked up.
Eyes.
Cold, grey. Watching her like a riddle he already knew the answer to.
He was tall. Immaculate. Dark clothes, sharp jaw, the kind of presence that didn't just take space—owned it. His cologne lingered in the air between them—something expensive, clean, and dangerously male.
She recognized him.
Sort of.
He wasn't in her classes, but she'd seen him on campus. Sometimes near the studio building. Once, across from the sculpture lab. He always seemed like a shadow just outside her focus. Unreachable. Older.
Senior.
Untouchable.
She didn't even know his name.
But something about him felt... familiar.
Not his face.
The feeling.
As if her skin already knew his touch. As if her breath had been waiting for him to take it.
"I—uh, I'm sorry," she murmured, pulling away, heart kicking at her ribs. "I wasn't looking."
His lips curved slightly. Not a smile. Something darker.
"No need to apologize, Ava."
She froze.
Her name.
She hadn't told him her name.
Her fingers clutched her sketchbook tighter.
He didn't say anything else. Just held her gaze a moment longer—intense, unblinking—then walked past her without another word.
The air felt colder after he left.
Thinner.
She turned to look, but he was already gone.
She stood there for a full minute, her breath refusing to settle.
She didn't know who he was.
Or why her heart hadn't stopped racing.
But suddenly, she felt like her life had been nudged off its axis.
Just a little.
Just enough.
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