Adrian attacked his first week of college like it was a military operation.
Monday morning, he attended the Campus Activities Fair in the massive gymnasium, armed with a notebook and three different colored pens. He was going to join clubs, lots of clubs, specifically clubs that Dante Alaric wouldn't be caught dead in.
The gym was chaos—tables crammed together, students shouting over each other, flyers being thrust into every passing hand. Adrian wove through the crowd with purpose, stopping at the Drama Club table first.
"I want to audition for the fall production," he told the girl manning the booth. She had asymmetrical blue hair and approximately seven piercings in each ear.
"Cool. Sign-up sheet's here. Auditions are next week. We're doing 'Rent' this semester." She handed him a flyer. "You sing?"
"A little. I'm more interested in acting."
"We need bodies for ensemble either way. Put your name down."
Adrian signed his name with a flourish. One club down.
Next was the Environmental Action Coalition, then the Film Studies Society, then the Creative Writing Workshop. By the time he'd circled the gym twice, he'd joined seven different organizations and his bag was stuffed with flyers.
But the entire time, his brain kept humming with an undercurrent of awareness: Where would Dante be right now? What clubs would Dante join? What if he shows up here?
Adrian hated that he was thinking about it. Hated that even in a gym filled with hundreds of students and infinite possibilities, some part of his mind was still calibrated to Dante's frequency.
He was standing at the Pre-Med Volunteer Corps table, not really paying attention to the guy explaining blood drive logistics, when a voice beside him said, "You look like someone who's trying to join literally everything."
Adrian turned and found himself face-to-face with Isabella Chen.
She was even more beautiful up close—dark hair pulled back in a neat ponytail, warm brown eyes that crinkled when she smiled, wearing a simple white t-shirt with the volunteer corps logo. She radiated a kind of effortless confidence that made Adrian's stomach flip.
"I—uh—yeah, I guess I am," he managed. "Trying to get involved. College experience and all that."
"I respect the enthusiasm." Isabella held out her hand. "Isabella Chen. Pre-med, junior year. You're a freshman?"
"That obvious?" Adrian shook her hand, grateful his palm wasn't sweaty. "Adrian Hayes. Undeclared, but leaning toward English or Communications."
"Nothing wrong with being undecided. You've got time." She gestured to the volunteer corps table. "You interested in medical stuff? We do blood drives, health education programs, campus wellness initiatives. It's pretty cool if you're into helping people."
"I am. Into helping people, I mean." Adrian grabbed a flyer, trying not to stare at her too obviously. "What got you interested in pre-med?"
"My grandmother had a stroke when I was fifteen. The doctors who took care of her were amazing—patient, compassionate, really present. I knew I wanted to be like that for other families." Isabella's expression softened with the memory. "What about you? What makes Adrian Hayes tick?"
It was such a simple question, but it stopped Adrian cold. What did make him tick? Besides competing with Dante, besides trying to win, besides the constant exhausting effort of trying to be good enough?
"I like stories," he said finally. "Movies, books, plays, whatever. I like how they can make you feel things, make you understand people you've never met. I thought maybe I could do something with that."
"That's really cool." Isabella's smile was genuine, not polite. "We need more people who understand storytelling. Especially in medicine—patients aren't just symptoms, you know? They're people with stories."
"Exactly." Adrian felt something loosen in his chest. "That's exactly it."
They talked for another ten minutes—about classes, about campus, about the surprisingly good tacos at the dining hall. Isabella laughed at his jokes, actually laughed, not the polite courtesy laugh but the kind that seemed surprised out of her. She asked him questions about his life, his interests, his opinions, and she listened to his answers like they mattered.
For the first time in eighteen years, Adrian felt like someone was seeing him—just Adrian, not Adrian-who-came-in-second-to-Dante, not Adrian-who-lost-the-championship, not Adrian-who-couldn't-quite-measure-up.
Just Adrian.
It was intoxicating.
"I should get back to the table," Isabella said eventually, glancing at the line forming behind them. "But hey, we're having a volunteer orientation Wednesday night if you want to check it out. Seven PM, Student Center room 203."
"I'll be there," Adrian promised.
"Great. See you then, Adrian Hayes." She gave him one more smile before turning back to the next potential volunteer.
Adrian walked away from the table feeling like he was floating. This was it. This was the fresh start he'd been desperate for. Isabella didn't know about his history with Dante, didn't know about every loss and failure that defined him back in high school. She just saw a guy she could talk to, maybe even a guy she liked talking to.
He could reinvent himself here. He could be someone new.
The feeling lasted approximately two hours.
Adrian had claimed a corner table at The Grind, the campus coffee shop, spreading out his laptop and textbooks for his first real study session. He'd ordered a large coffee with extra espresso because his Literature professor had already assigned three hundred pages of reading, and he was determined to actually do it all.
He was twenty pages into "The Great Gatsby" when the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.
He looked up.
Dante sat three tables away, laptop open, headphones on, seemingly absorbed in whatever he was working on.
Adrian stared. The coffee shop was huge, at least thirty tables, probably a hundred students spread throughout the space. What were the odds that Dante would choose this exact location at this exact time?
Dante glanced up, their eyes meeting for a brief second. Then he looked back down at his screen like nothing had happened.
Adrian tried to refocus on his reading. Failed. Read the same paragraph four times without absorbing a single word.
Dante was just sitting there. Not doing anything, not approaching, just... existing in Adrian's space with unnerving intensity.
After twenty minutes of trying and failing to concentrate, Adrian packed up his stuff and left. As he walked past Dante's table, he could feel eyes following him, but when he looked back, Dante's gaze was fixed firmly on his laptop screen.
It happened again Wednesday afternoon.
Adrian had joined a pickup basketball game on the outdoor courts, needing to burn off nervous energy before the volunteer orientation with Isabella. He was actually having fun, laughing with guys from his dorm floor, making decent shots, feeling almost normal.
Then Dante appeared at the edge of the court.
"Mind if I jump in?" he asked the group at large, not quite looking at Adrian.
One of the guys—Chris from down the hall—immediately perked up. "Dude, you're Dante Alaric. From the varsity team. Hell yeah, you can jump in."
They redistributed teams. Dante ended up on Adrian's team, of course, because the universe had a sick sense of humor.
For the next hour, Adrian was hyperaware of every move Dante made. Every time Dante passed him the ball. Every time their shoulders brushed during a play. Every time Dante called out encouragement that sounded almost... fond?
"Nice shot, Adrian."
"Good defense."
"I'm open if you need me."
Adrian wanted to scream. This was supposed to be his thing, his space, his chance to exist separately from Dante. But Dante was here, being good at basketball obviously, making everyone else on the court gravitate toward him naturally, being the center of attention without even trying.
"Don't you have official practice?" Adrian snapped during a water break, unable to contain his frustration anymore.
Dante blinked at him, something hurt flickering across his face. "Not until six. I have free time."
"So you decided to spend it here?"
"I like basketball. These are open courts. Am I not allowed to be here?"
"I didn't say that."
"You kind of did though." Dante's jaw clenched. "What do you want from me, Adrian? You want me to check with you before I go places? Get your permission for where I'm allowed to exist?"
"No, I just—" Adrian stopped, because he didn't know how to explain the feeling without sounding insane. "Never mind. Forget it."
They played the rest of the game in tense silence. When it ended, Dante left without saying goodbye to anyone, shoulders tight, hands shoved in his pockets.
Chris sidled up to Adrian as they were leaving. "Dude, what was that about? You know Dante Alaric?"
"We went to high school together."
"And you're, what, enemies or something? Because that energy was intense."
"We're not enemies. We're just—" Adrian struggled for a word. "Complicated."
"If you say so, man. But he was watching you the whole game. Like, even when the ball was on the other side of the court, he was watching you."
Adrian's stomach did a weird flip. "You're imagining things."
"Am I though?" Chris shrugged. "Just saying what I saw."
That night, Adrian called Sage while walking back from the library.
"He's stalking me," Adrian announced without preamble.
"Hello to you too. I'm fine, thanks for asking."
"Sage, I'm serious. He's everywhere. Coffee shop, basketball courts, yesterday he showed up at the dining hall right when I was eating dinner. It's like he has a tracker on me or something."
"Or maybe you both go to the same school with limited social spaces?" Sage's voice was amused. "That's kind of how college works."
"No, this is different. He's not just coincidentally there. He's watching me. With this weird intense look that makes me want to—I don't know what it makes me want to do, but it's driving me crazy."
"Maybe he's trying to spend time with you?"
"Why would he do that? We hate each other."
"Do you?" Sage asked. "Hate him?"
Adrian opened his mouth to say yes. Obviously yes. Of course yes.
The word didn't come.
"Yes," he said finally. "Obviously."
"You hesitated."
"I did NOT hesitate. There was no hesitation. That was immediate."
"Adrian, I could literally hear the hesitation. It was like three full seconds."
"You're counting wrong. You need to get your ears checked."
Sage laughed. "Okay, sure. My ears are the problem here. Not your inability to answer a simple question about whether you hate your roommate who apparently can't stop watching you."
"I don't want to talk about this anymore."
"Of course you don't."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing. Absolutely nothing." Sage's tone was deeply suspicious in its innocence. "So did you talk to Isabella yet? The theater girl?"
"She's pre-med, not theater. And yeah, actually. I'm meeting her for coffee tomorrow. Just as friends," he added quickly. "Getting to know each other."
"That's great! See? Fresh starts. New people. Very healthy."
"Thank you. Finally someone who supports my healthy choices."
"I'm very supportive. Super supportive. The most supportive."
"Why do you sound sarcastic?"
"I'm not being sarcastic. I genuinely hope it goes well with Isabella. She sounds nice."
"She is nice. She's great. She's perfect, actually." Adrian meant it. Isabella was everything he should want—smart, beautiful, kind, interested in him without any baggage or history or complicated rivalry dynamics.
So why did his brain keep circling back to Dante sitting alone on that roof at 3 AM?
He shook the thought away. "I should go. Early class tomorrow."
"Okay. Text me after the coffee date that's definitely just as friends."
"It IS just as friends."
"Sure, babe. I believe you."
After they hung up, Adrian stood outside his dorm building for a long moment, steeling himself to go inside. Living with Dante was like existing in a constant state of tension—never knowing what mood he'd be in, what strange behavior would manifest next, whether they'd have another one of those unsettling conversations that revealed too much.
He took the stairs instead of the elevator, delaying the inevitable.
When he opened the door to Room 447B, his brain immediately short-circuited.
Dante sat at his desk, shirtless, doing homework.
The room was sweltering—apparently the AC had broken that afternoon, turning their space into a sauna. Dante had stripped down to basketball shorts, his back to the door, shoulders and spine visible in the lamplight.
He turned when the door opened. Their eyes met.
Adrian's mouth went completely dry.
He'd seen Dante shirtless before—locker rooms, swim class in ninth grade, that one time at Chris Parker's pool party sophomore year. But this was different. This was intimate space, bedroom space, and Dante's skin looked golden in the warm light, and there was a small scar on his left shoulder blade that Adrian had never noticed before, and—
"AC's broken," Dante said, his voice rough. "Maintenance said they'd fix it tomorrow."
"Right. Broken. Tomorrow. That's—good." Adrian's words came out jumbled, nonsensical. "I mean, good that they'll fix it. Not good that it's broken. Obviously."
Dante's eyebrows drew together. "You okay?"
"Fine. Totally fine. Great, even. I just remembered I need to—" Adrian gestured vaguely toward the door. "Library. Study. Thing."
"It's almost midnight."
"I study late. Very late. Super late studier, that's me."
Adrian practically fled into the hallway, letting the door slam behind him. He leaned against the wall, heart hammering, face hot, thoughts spiraling.
What the hell was that?
Why had his brain completely stopped working? Why couldn't he form coherent sentences? Why was he standing in a hallway at midnight having what felt alarmingly like a panic attack over seeing his roommate without a shirt on?
He'd seen shirtless guys before. He'd seen attractive people before. This shouldn't have—it didn't mean—he wasn't—
His phone buzzed. Text from Isabella.
Isabella: Looking forward to coffee tomorrow! The Grind at 2?
Right. Isabella. Coffee. The fresh start. The person who saw him as just Adrian, the possibility of something normal and uncomplicated.
Adrian: Can't wait. See you at 2.
He took several deep breaths, trying to calm his racing heart.
This was fine. Everything was fine. He'd just been startled, that's all. The heat, the unexpected situation, the long day—it all combined to make him momentarily disoriented.
It didn't mean anything.
It couldn't mean anything.
He waited in the hallway for another ten minutes, until he was absolutely sure he could walk back into that room and act completely normal. Then he opened the door.
Dante had put on a t-shirt. Adrian felt a confusing mix of relief and something else he refused to examine.
"Found what you needed?" Dante asked without looking up from his textbook.
"What?"
"At the library. You said you needed to study."
"Oh. Right. Yeah. Forgot my—I didn't actually go. I forgot my notes. So I came back. For the notes."
Dante finally looked at him, expression unreadable. "Your notes are on your desk. Where they've been all day."
"Right. Those notes. I meant my other notes. Different notes."
"You have two sets of notes?"
"I'm very thorough."
"Uh-huh."
They stared at each other for a long moment. Dante's dark eyes held something Adrian couldn't name—confusion maybe, or curiosity, or something more complicated that made Adrian's pulse spike again.
"I'm going to bed," Adrian announced abruptly.
"It's only eleven thirty."
"I'm tired. Very tired. Exhausted, really."
He turned off his lamp and climbed into bed fully clothed, facing the wall, trying desperately to ignore the presence of Dante Alaric six feet away.
His mind kept replaying the moment—door opening, turning around, eyes meeting, that strange electric jolt that had shot through his entire body.
What the hell was that?