Ava woke up feeling like her entire body had betrayed her.
Nicholas Wolfe shouldn't have that kind of effect on her.
Not his voice.
Not his touch.
And definitely not his kiss.
But the moment her eyes opened that morning, the memory hit her again—
the party lights behind him,
his hand wrapped around her wrist,
the way he pushed her gently, firmly, against the wall like she was something he needed,
and then—
His mouth on hers.
Ava covered her face with her pillow.
"No, no, no—this is not happening," she muttered.
But her lips still tingled.
Her stomach still twisted.
And her heart still reacted to his name like it was made for him.
She dragged herself out of bed, trying to shake off the feeling.
Avoidance was her plan.
Avoidance had always been her plan.
And yet…
every second since that kiss, her brain replayed it like an addiction she didn't want to admit.
Campus felt too loud, too bright, too full of reminders she was trying to outrun.
She kept her head down as she walked through the courtyard, clutching her books like a shield.
Just get to class.
Just breathe.
Just don't think about him.
But fate, the universe, and all things chaotic apparently hated her.
Because the moment she stepped into the lecture hall—
He was there.
Nicholas.
Sitting in her row.
Leaning back in the seat like sin had taken human form.
Black hoodie.
Silver chain.
Eyes fixed straight ahead…
…until he sensed her.
His gaze snapped to hers instantly.
Sharp.
Intense.
Unavoidable.
Ava's heart stumbled.
No smile.
No smirk.
Just that serious, unreadable look he rarely ever gave anyone.
She quickly looked away and headed to a seat two rows down.
But Nicholas Wolfe wasn't the type to let things go.
A minute later, she sensed movement.
Then the soft shift of someone dropping into the chair beside her.
Ava didn't have to look.
She knew.
His voice came low, quiet, too close to her ear.
"Running again?"
Her breath caught. "I'm not—"
"Yes, you are."
She glared at her notebook. "We kissed. That's it. People kiss at parties. It doesn't mean anything."
He went very still.
Painfully still.
And when he finally spoke, his voice was deeper—dangerously controlled.
"Maybe to you."
Ava's pulse jumped.
He leaned closer, his arm brushing hers just enough to set her nerves on fire.
"You think I drag you away from another guy, pin you against a wall, and kiss you like that… because it meant nothing?"
She swallowed. Hard.
"Nicholas—"
"Look at me."
"No."
He gave a soft, frustrated laugh.
"Sweetheart, you kiss back like you want to ruin me… then pretend it was nothing? That's cute."
She finally snapped her head toward him.
"Don't call me that."
Nicholas smirked. "Then stop acting like you don't like it."
Ava clenched her jaw. "That kiss was just—heat of the moment."
"Oh, it was heat alright," he murmured. "And you know it."
Her cheeks flamed.
She shifted away, pulling her arm from his.
"I'm not one of your girls," she whispered fiercely. "You don't get to—"
"I know you're not."
His tone cut through her like a shock.
"Why do you think I'm acting like this?"
She froze.
Nicholas looked at her—not with arrogance, but with something raw, something dangerously close to real.
"I haven't been able to think straight since that night," he said quietly. "Every time I close my eyes…"
He exhaled, jaw tightening.
"I feel you against me."
Ava's heartbeat pounded in her ears.
This wasn't the Nicholas Wolfe people warned her about.
This was the one who let his guard slip.
The one who felt.
The one she should definitely stay away from.
Still… she whispered, "We shouldn't talk about this here."
He leaned back, eyes still on her.
"Then meet me after class."
"No."
"Ava."
She stood up a little too quickly, gathering her books.
"I'm going to get coffee."
Class hadn't even started yet.
Nicholas rose immediately.
She spun. "Why are you following me?"
"Because you're running again."
"I'm not—"
"Sweetheart," he said softly, "when you run this fast, it's always from something you want."
Her chest tightened.
She hated that he saw right through her.
Hated it…
and liked it.
She opened her mouth to argue—
but he stepped closer, lowering his voice.
"That kiss wasn't nothing to me," he said, eyes locked with hers.
"And the way you kissed me back? That wasn't nothing to you either."
Ava felt her breath break.
Before she could respond, the professor walked in, calling the class to order.
Nicholas gave her one last look—slow, consuming, devastating—before turning back toward his seat.
Ava couldn't move.
Her heart was no longer just racing.
It was choosing.
And that terrified her more than anything.