Mila Wilson is quiet, anxious and a little bit of a mess. Panic attacks have ruled her life for as long as she can remember - but starting college is her chance to take control. Love? Not something she believes she's built for.
Then she meets Jace E...
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My whole body tenses, a wave of dread tightening every muscle as soon as I see his face. I should've thought twice before opening the door.
"Derek," I say, forcing his name past the lump in my throat with all the courage I can gather.
A slow, twisted grin spreads across his lips. "So, she speaks," he says, a note of dark humor curling in his voice.
"What are you doing here?" I ask coldly, trying not to let the fear show on my face, though I know he can sense it. But the real question clawing at my mind: How does he even know where I live?
"I was hoping," he says, taking a deliberate step forward, "we could finish the little chat we didn't get to have in the park, Mila."
I immediately step back, my hand tightening on the doorframe. He must've picked up my name this morning—probably asked around. It wouldn't have been hard to find me on campus. "I'm not interested," I say flatly, holding the door half-closed to shield myself from him.
"Oh, but I am," he replies, his voice lowering. "And I'm not exactly used to pretty girls like you turning me down." His words crawl over my skin like something venomous.
I don't understand how someone like Derek is even considered popular. Maybe on the surface he's got that rough, rebellious appeal—if you ignore the unwashed hair, the stale stench of smoke, and the way his eyes seem to flicker with something unhinged. But inside, he's dark. The kind of person you don't just avoid—you run from.
Jace's warning about him being dangerous flickers through my mind again. My heart starts racing faster.
"There's a first time for everything, I guess," I say quietly, choosing my words carefully—trying not to provoke him.
"I guess," Derek echoes, then steps past the door and into my room. He's standing right in front of me now. So close I can feel the heat radiating off his body. My shoulders stiffen, my entire frame locked like a trap about to spring. I can't move.
"Nice room," he mutters, glancing around with clear sarcasm before turning his focus back to me. "Real cozy." His gaze lingers far too long. He's massive. Taller than Jace, with broader shoulders and a looming energy that makes me feel small in the worst way. He's not just in my space—he's claiming it.
Then he moves again. He leans in, resting his forearm against the door just above my head. His face inches from mine, so close I can smell his breath—cigarettes and something sour—and I instinctively turn my face away, unable to look at him.
"You do know I like the chase, right?" he whispers. My stomach churns. What is this? A game to him? A way to assert control? Why come all the way here—to intimidate me? To what, scare me into submission?
"Jace is going to be here any second," I say, the words coming out shakier than I intended. Hoping—praying—that name is enough to make him leave.
