CHAPTER 1 Parallel Lines

(Attraction/Admission)

Ethan Vale didn’t do parties.

He did case law, 4.0 GPAs, and the kind of silence that made people nervous. At Crestwood University, he was Ace—untouchable, unreadable, the glacier of the law faculty who could dismantle an argument before breakfast and never let anyone see the cracks.

Tonight, the cracks were threatening to show.

Mara had blackmailed him with the threat of burning his annotated torts binder. The binder was sacred. Two semesters of color-coded notes lived inside it, along with the fragile remains of Ethan’s sanity.

So here he was.

Back pressed against the sticky kitchen counter of the soccer house, flat soda in hand, pretending the thumping bass wasn’t vibrating through his ribs.

The place smelled like cheap beer, sweat, and something sugary that had probably been spilled hours ago and forgotten. Bodies packed the living room, shouting over music that was loud enough to make conversation nearly impossible.

Ethan stayed near the edge of the room like a cautious observer in a courtroom. Parties were chaos. Chaos made people unpredictable. And Ethan preferred things predictable.

Across the room, Noah Reyes glowed like he’d been born under stadium lights.

Sun-kissed skin. Dark curls damp with sweat. A body carved from years of sprinting across fields and scoring goals that made entire stadiums erupt. He wore a fitted black tee that clung to every ridge of muscle, sleeves hugging strong arms that flexed when he lifted a red cup to his mouth.

When he laughed, the sound cut cleanly through the noise—and somehow landed directly in Ethan’s stomach.

Ethan looked away immediately. He’d spent two years perfecting the art of not staring at Noah Reyes.

The golden boy had a girlfriend—Lila Voss. Cheer captain. Blonde, bright, I*******m-perfect. She appeared at every game in the front row and wrapped herself around Noah afterward like she belonged there.

Everyone knew they were the campus it-couple.

Everyone except Ethan’s traitorous body, which still heated every time Noah walked past the law building.

Because Noah Reyes was impossible.

And Ethan had rules.

Rules kept him safe. Rules kept his future intact. Rules kept him from imagining what those strong hands would feel like pinning him down while Noah whispered things against his neck.

“Stop eye-fucking the striker,” Mara muttered beside him.

Ethan nearly choked on his soda. “I am not.”

“You absolutely are,” she said, grinning. “If looks could strip someone naked, Noah would be standing here in socks.”

“I’m calculating exit strategies,” Ethan said calmly, adjusting his glasses.

Mara snorted. “Relax, Ace. It’s a party, not a hostage situation.”

Before he could escape, someone in the living room shouted, “Truth or dare!”

A circle quickly formed on the carpet.

Mara grabbed Ethan’s wrist and dragged him into it.

“You’re playing.”

“I absolutely am not—”

Too late.

He was pushed down onto the rug, legs crossed, trapped between laughing strangers and the overwhelming smell of cheap alcohol.

And directly across from him—Noah Reyes.

Up close, he looked even more unfair. Hazel eyes, long lashes, a slow, confident smile that made people lean closer without realizing it. Ethan could smell him: cedar, fresh grass, something darker underneath that made his pulse spike.

Noah’s gaze lifted. For half a second their eyes locked. Something flickered there—surprise, maybe curiosity. Then Noah looked away with a lazy grin like it meant nothing.

The game started. Bottle spin. Truth or dare. Confessions about crushes, embarrassing stories, a ridiculous dare involving someone singing karaoke on the coffee table.

Every time the bottle landed on Ethan, he chose truth. Safe. Boring. Survivable.

Until Lila leaned forward with a wicked smile.

“Ace,” she said sweetly. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

She tapped her chin. “Who’s the most impossible person you could ever actually like?”

Ethan’s pulse spiked. Every eye turned toward him. Including Noah’s.

He swallowed. This was harmless. A joke answer. Something ridiculous. Something safe. But Noah was still looking at him. And suddenly the truth felt lodged somewhere behind Ethan’s ribs.

“Noah Reyes,” Ethan said.

For one long second—silence. Then laughter exploded around the circle. Someone whistled. “The robot likes the golden boy!”

Ethan forced a tight smile. Everyone thought it was funny. Everyone except Noah. He wasn’t laughing. His gaze had sharpened, lips parting slightly.

Lila clapped her hands together, delighted.

“Well then,” she said brightly, “dare.”

Ethan’s stomach dropped.

“Text ‘I like you’ to the most impossible person in your contacts.”

The circle erupted in cheers. “Do it! Right now!”

Ethan’s blood turned to ice. Slowly, he pulled out his phone. Hands steady, but inside, he felt anything but. Opened contacts. Scrolled. And there it was. Noah Reyes. Saved freshman year for a project. Never deleted. Never used.

Three simple words. He typed carefully.

I like you.

Sent.

A buzz cut through the laughter. From Noah’s pocket.

The room froze.

Noah pulled out his phone slowly. Stared. Shock flickered, replaced quickly by something hotter—focused, intense, almost hungry. His gaze lifted and locked onto Ethan.

“Care to explain, Ace?” he said softly, voice low, rough, vibrating straight into Ethan’s chest. “When you say ‘most impossible’… does that mean you could never like someone like me?”

Ethan froze. “It… it was a dare.”

“Bullshit.” Noah’s voice was quiet, but it carried the weight of months of held-back feelings. He stepped closer. “You picked my name. You knew.”

Ethan’s chest hammered. “You have a girlfriend.”

“Yeah,” Noah admitted. “You know.”

Something unspoken passed between them—a current, a heat, a recognition. Ethan’s pulse spiked, his throat dry.

Noah exhaled. “Outside,” he said, motioning toward the backyard. “Now.”

The backyard was cooler, quiet compared to the thumping house. Ethan leaned against the wooden railing, cheeks flushed, glasses slipping.

“You sent that text on purpose?” Noah asked.

Ethan hesitated. “It was a dare,” he admitted, voice small.

“Bullshit,” Noah said again. His gaze softened slightly, revealing the vulnerability he never showed anyone. “You like me. Admit it.”

Ethan’s hands shook. “I… I do,” he whispered.

Noah smiled, slow, confident. He stepped closer, closing the distance. “I like you too, Ethan,” he said, voice low. “I’ve liked you for a long time.”

Ethan felt the world narrow down to the backyard, the night air, and the warmth of Noah beside him. Their hands brushed, and Noah took his fingers, holding them.

“For months,” Noah continued, “I’ve been pretending for everyone else… but not tonight. Tonight it’s just us.”

Ethan swallowed. “Just us.”

Noah leaned in, and this time their lips met, soft, tentative, electric. Ethan’s chest tightened as the kiss deepened, just enough to make him forget rules, expectations, everyone else in the world.

When they finally pulled back, foreheads pressed together, Noah’s hazel eyes burned into him.

“Library. Third floor. Three p.m. Tomorrow,” Noah said, voice low but firm. “We figure out what that means. Together.”

Ethan nodded, still dizzy from the kiss, the touch, the confession. “Together.”

For the first time in a long time, both of them felt like no rules, no rumors, no expectations could hold them back. But tomorrow, at three p.m., everything might get a lot more complicated.