Chapter 1-Blackridge gods

ISLA'S POV

"Get out of my way, you freak.”

Something slammed into my shoulder. I staggered sideways, my suitcase nearly ripping out of my hand.

“Excuse me?”

The blonde who had bumped into me didn’t even look back. She was already running. I frowned after her. Then another person sprinted past me. Then another. And another. Within seconds, the walkway in front of Blackridge University had turned into a stampede.

“What the hell?”

I tightened my grip around my suitcase and stepped aside as students rushed past me, laughing and shouting. At first, I thought there was some kind of emergency. Someone had collapsed. A fight had broken out. Maybe there was a fire. Then I saw where everyone was running and stopped.

A crowd had gathered near the main entrance. Not a small crowd either. Hundreds of students were packed together, blocking half the walkway. Phones were raised above heads. Girls were screaming. Someone actually squealed so loudly that I flinched.

“What is happening?” I muttered.

I moved closer. Then I saw them. Two boys stood in the middle of the crowd. And suddenly, everything made sense. Apparently, Blackridge University had gods. At least, that was how everyone was looking at them.

Girls were pressed against each other, whispering excitedly. Some were fixing their hair. One girl had her phone pointed directly at them while another was practically fanning herself with her hand. The boys didn’t seem particularly impressed. They stood there like this happened every day. Which, judging by the crowd, it probably did.

I rolled my eyes. Of course. I had been at Blackridge for approximately twelve minutes, and I’d already discovered the school’s hierarchy. I guess some boys were important enough to stop traffic.

I thought things like this only happen in the movies.

I should have walked away. I should have found the administration building, collected my room key, unpacked, showered, and started planning. Instead, curiosity got the better of me. I stayed.

One of the boys laughed, and the crowd reacted like he’d just announced world peace. I snorted. Ridiculous. I didn’t understand how a university could turn grown adults into screaming fans over a group of guys who looked like they had never been told no.

Then I noticed the number on one of their jerseys. 14. My stomach tightened. I knew that number. Not because I followed hockey. I couldn’t care less about hockey. I’d spent the last year learning one person’s face, one person’s name, one person’s habits. And there he was. Ryder Rowan. My target.

The name I’d written in the back of my notebook so many times that the ink had nearly torn through the paper. The name that had become synonymous with the worst year of my sister’s life.

My fingers tightened around the suitcase handle. There he was. After twelve months of wondering what kind of person could hurt someone so badly and then continue living like nothing happened. After twelve months of listening to my sister wake from nightmares and refuse to tell me what happened inside these walls. After twelve months of watching her become a quieter version of herself.

Ryder Rowan stood ten metres away from me. And he looked perfectly fine. His dark hair was slightly messy, his hockey jersey stretched across broad shoulders, and there was an easy confidence in the way he stood. He wasn’t smiling. He didn’t need to. The crowd was doing enough of that for him.

A girl stepped in front of him. “Ryder!” He barely glanced at her. She giggled anyway. I stared. This was him? This was the guy my sister had been so afraid to talk about that she’d rather change the subject than say his name?

I expected horns. Maybe a tail. Something. Instead, I got a ridiculously confident hockey player surrounded by people who apparently thought oxygen became more valuable when he entered a room.

A strange thrill suddenly moved through me. I smiled. This was going to be fun. Except I had made one mistake. I’d stopped paying attention to where I was standing. The crowd started moving. The boys began walking toward the main building. Students followed them immediately. And somehow, I ended up directly in their path. I didn’t notice. Not until the noise died. Completely.

One second, Blackridge was chaos. The next, it was silent. My smile disappeared. I slowly looked up. Every person around me was staring. At me. I blinked. What? I glanced behind myself. Nobody. Then I realized. I was standing directly in the middle of the walkway. And the entire crowd had stopped because I was blocking them. Oh. Well. That was awkward.

I should have moved. A sensible person would have moved. But then I looked ahead. And my eyes met Ryder’s. For one second, neither of us moved. The noise around us disappeared. Ryder was staring straight at me. His expression was unreadable.

My pulse jumped. Absolutely not. I wasn’t going to be intimidated by him. Lesson one of getting your target’s attention: Never show fear. Lesson two: Don’t look away first. Lesson three: Make him wonder who the hell you are. So I didn’t move. I didn’t blink. I stared right back.

Something shifted in Ryder’s expression. Barely. But I saw it. His head tilted slightly. Like he was trying to figure me out.

I lifted my chin. His eyes narrowed. My heart hammered harder. Not because I was scared. I reminded myself of that immediately. I was not scared.

Then someone shoved me. Hard. I stumbled sideways. “Move, bitch!” A blonde girl pushed past me, practically throwing me off the walkway. I caught myself before I fell. My suitcase tipped over. The wheels scraped against the concrete. The crowd immediately came back to life.

“Ryder!” “Wait!” “Can I get a picture?” “Ryder, over here!” And just like that, the moment was gone. Ryder turned away.

I stared after him. My jaw clenched. The blonde who had shoved me was already disappearing into the crowd. I looked down at my suitcase. Then at Ryder. He was walking away.

I should have been angry about being pushed. Instead, a slow smile spread across my face. Because Ryder Rowan had looked at me. And I had looked right back.

First task: accomplished.

I turned to my suitcase. Then I glanced back.

Ryder was already halfway across the courtyard.

And he was looking at me again.