First Glance, Wrong Heart

I stopped trying to explain it to myself after a while.

Some things don’t need logic to exist. They just happen. Like rain on a sunny day. Like a song you suddenly remember without knowing why.

Like Ashton Carter appearing in my thoughts when I was supposed to be thinking about his brother.

It annoyed me more than I wanted to admit.

A few days later, Adrian invited me to a private campus gathering. Not an official party just something his friends organized in one of the student lounges.

“You’ll like it,” he said while tying his shoelaces. “Good music, good food, and me.”

“That last part sounds biased.”

He grinned. “It is.”

I couldn’t refuse. Not because I was obligated, but because saying no to Adrian felt strangely unnecessary. He made everything sound light, easy, almost harmless.

So I went.

The lounge was louder than I expected.

Music pulsed through the walls. Students filled every corner laughing, talking, moving like the room itself was alive. Neon lights reflected off glass tables, and the smell of mixed drinks and popcorn lingered in the air.

Adrian immediately slipped his arm around my waist the moment we entered.

“Stay close,” he said. “Don’t let anyone steal you.”

I laughed. “I don’t think I’m something that gets stolen.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.”

He led me through the crowd like he belonged everywhere at once. People greeted him constantly. Some clapped him on the back. Others called his name.

He responded to all of them effortlessly.

And I followed beside him like a quiet shadow.

At first, I didn’t notice anything unusual.

Then I saw him.

Ashton.

Standing near the far wall, away from the noise.

Not drinking. Not laughing. Just watching the room like he was studying it rather than participating in it.

He wasn’t alone this time either. A couple of students hovered nearby, trying to engage him in conversation. He answered minimally, politely detached.

Adrian noticed my pause.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

But my eyes had already lingered too long.

Adrian followed my gaze.

“Oh,” he muttered. “Him again.”

I turned quickly. “You say that like it’s a problem.”

“It is a problem when he looks like he’s judging everyone.”

“He’s not judging anyone.”

Adrian raised a brow. “You’re defending him again.”

“I’m not defending him.”

But even I didn’t believe that anymore.

We moved further into the lounge. Adrian got pulled into a conversation with his teammates, leaving me momentarily alone near the snack table.

That’s when someone stepped beside me.

I didn’t need to look to know who it was.

Ashton’s presence felt different.

Not loud like Adrian’s.

Not attention seeking.

Just there.

“You followed him here too?” I asked before thinking.

Ashton glanced at me. “I didn’t know you were assigned to him everywhere he goes.”

That made me huff a small laugh. “I’m not assigned to anyone.”

“Interesting. Because you look like you are.”

I frowned slightly. “You talk like you’re always analyzing people.”

“I am.”

“Is that a habit or a personality trait?”

“Both.”

That was the most honest thing I’d heard from him.

We stood near the table for a moment. The noise around us felt distant, like we were slightly separated from it.

“You don’t like crowds?” I asked.

“I don’t like noise pretending to be meaning.”

I blinked. “That sounded deep.”

“It wasn’t meant to be.”

I smiled despite myself. “Then you’re naturally intense.”

His gaze shifted toward me briefly. “And you’re naturally observant.”

I didn’t know why that compliment felt different from Adrian’s.

It just did.

Adrian eventually returned, wrapping an arm around me again.

“There you are,” he said. “I was looking for you.”

“I was right here.”

He kissed my temple. “Did Ashton bother you?”

The question came too casually.

It almost felt rehearsed.

“No,” I said quickly. “We just talked.”

Adrian’s expression didn’t change, but something in his eyes sharpened for a fraction of a second.

Then it was gone.

“Good,” he said. “Don’t let him drag you into his weird mood.”

“He’s not weird,” I replied before I could stop myself.

Adrian laughed. “Ava, trust me. I know my brother.”

That sentence should’ve been simple.

But it wasn’t.

Because something about the way he said my brother felt heavier than it should have.

Later, the music shifted into something slower. Couples began pairing off across the room. Adrian pulled me into a dance without warning.

“You don’t dance often,” he said.

“That obvious?”

“Very.”

I let him guide me easily. His movements were confident, familiar. Everyone in the room seemed to move around us naturally, like we were part of the same rhythm.

But halfway through, my eyes drifted again.

And I saw Ashton.

He was still at the edge of the room.

Still not participating.

But this time, he wasn’t looking at the crowd.

He was looking at me.

Not Adrian.

Me.

My breath caught slightly.

For a second, I forgot I was dancing.

Adrian noticed my distraction.

“What is it again?” he asked, tightening his hold slightly.

“Nothing,” I whispered.

But I wasn’t sure anymore.

Because Ashton’s gaze didn’t move away immediately.

It stayed.

Long enough to feel intentional.

Long enough to feel like a question I didn’t understand.

Then, finally, he looked away.

And I suddenly felt colder than I had a moment before.

After the party, Adrian insisted on walking me back.

The night air was quiet, a sharp contrast to the chaos we had just left behind.

He held my hand loosely, swinging it slightly as we walked.

“You had fun, right?” he asked.

“Yes,” I lied automatically.

He stopped walking.

“What?” I asked.

“You hesitated.”

“I didn’t.”

“You did.”

I sighed softly. “It was fine. I just got distracted sometimes.”

“By what?”

I hesitated.

“I don’t know,” I finally said. “Just thoughts.”

Adrian studied me for a moment.

Then he smiled again, like the moment had never mattered.

“Next time, I’ll keep you closer,” he said lightly.

I nodded.

But something inside me didn’t fully settle.

That night, after I got home, I couldn’t sleep.

Not because of noise.

Not because of stress.

But because every time I closed my eyes, I saw two versions of the same face.

One warm. One distant.

One easy to love.

One impossible to ignore.

And I hated that my mind couldn’t decide which one felt more real.

Because deep down, I already knew something I wasn’t ready to admit.

I didn’t just meet Ashton Carter.

I noticed him.

And noticing him felt like the beginning of a problem I hadn’t signed up for.