Shouts and Sweet Surrender.

Chapter 1: Old Friends, New Sparks

The sun was starting to dip below the horizon as the last of the students filtered out of the lecture hall. Lola tucked a strand of her fiery red hair behind her ear and sighed, her eyes glancing over the emptying rows. It had been a long day, and all she wanted was to get back to her dorm and collapse on the bed with a cup of tea. But as she stuffed her notebook into her bag, she heard a familiar voice behind her.

"Lola Haines, is that really you?"

Her stomach flipped at the sound, though she tried to hide it, busying herself with her bag. She hadn't heard that voice in a long time. Slowly, she turned around, and there he was—Ian Grey, standing in the doorway like he had stepped out of some magazine. He was taller than she remembered, his black hair slightly messy in that effortless way that made girls stare. His hazel eyes—still the same warm, yet intense color—locked onto hers.

"Ian," she said, forcing a smile. "Long time no see."

Ian chuckled, his grin lopsided. "You could say that. What's it been? A year? Two?"

"Two," Lola said, her voice softening slightly. It had been two years since they'd graduated high school and drifted apart, going to different universities and losing touch. She had tried not to think about him much since then, but seeing him now brought back all the old feelings—the tension, the unresolved arguments, and, if she was honest with herself, the spark.

"I didn't expect to run into you here," Ian continued, stepping closer. He was still wearing that old leather jacket, a little worn around the edges but just as charming as it had always been on him. "What brings you to campus? Transferring?"

Lola shrugged, trying to keep her voice casual. "Yeah, I transferred. Needed a change of scenery, I guess."

Ian raised an eyebrow, his hazel eyes searching hers like he could see through her cool exterior. "A change of scenery, huh? Or are you running from something?"

Lola frowned, tightening her grip on her bag. He always did this—pushing her buttons, getting under her skin. "No, Ian, I'm not running from anything," she snapped before she could stop herself. "Maybe not everyone's as dramatic as you."

Ian chuckled again, and the sound was infuriating. "Same old Lola," he said. "Still quick to bite."

"And you're still just as obnoxious," she shot back, feeling a familiar heat rise in her cheeks. She hated that he could rile her up so easily, that he still had that power over her after all this time. But as much as she tried to brush him off, there was something about him that pulled her in, even now.

He leaned against the edge of a desk, arms crossed, looking entirely too at ease. "Maybe. But you used to like that about me."

Lola scoffed, though she couldn't deny the flicker of truth in his words. "You're still as cocky as ever, I see."

Ian shrugged, unbothered by her jab. "What can I say? Some things never change."

She rolled her eyes and grabbed her bag, slinging it over her shoulder. "Well, it was nice catching up, Ian. But I've got to get going."

"Wait," he said, his voice softer now. "Let's grab a coffee or something. It's been a while."

Lola hesitated. A part of her wanted to say no, to avoid reopening old wounds. But another part, the part that still remembered the good times they'd shared, was curious. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to catch up. Maybe it would remind her why she had once been drawn to him, despite their constant bickering.

"I don't know," she said, biting her lip.

Ian smiled, and it was a smile she knew well—the kind that always made her defenses crumble, no matter how hard she tried to resist. "Come on, Lola. It's just coffee."

She sighed, giving in. "Fine. But only coffee."

Ian's grin widened. "Only coffee. I promise."

As they walked out of the lecture hall together, Lola couldn't help but wonder what she was getting herself into. She hadn't seen Ian in two years, and now here he was, acting like no time had passed at all. Maybe some things never did change.

But something in the air between them felt different. Something she couldn't quite put her finger on yet.