One

Eli

"Mom, I literally just got here. Give me five minutes before you start worrying about whether I’ve eaten a vegetable or not."

I tucked my phone between my ear and my shoulder, trying to keep my balance while hauling my duffel bag across the quad of Blackridge University. The air here even smelled expensive, like old money, freshly cut grass, and perfume that cost more than my entire tuition. I wasn't paying for any of this, my scholarship was the only reason I was currently walking past buildings that looked like they belonged in a Gothic horror movie instead of a school.

"I’m serious," her voice crackled slightly on the other end. "You know how those places are, Eli. Don't let them intimidate you, you belong there just as much as anyone else."

I rolled my eyes (even though she couldn't see it). "I don't feel intimidated, Mom, I feel annoyed. Some guy just tried to valet his car by handing me his keys because I was wearing a plain hoodie, so I think I'm going to be the main character of a class struggle documentary by the end of the week, lol."

"Just be good," she sighed. "I love you."

"Love you too."

I hung up and shoved my phone into my pocket. I wasn't lying about being annoyed. Blackridge was beautiful, but it felt aggressive. Every single brick was perfectly placed, every student looked airbrushed, and the atmosphere was thick with the kind of entitlement you could only get from a trust fund. It was totally exhausting, and I hadn't even attended my first class yet.

That changed about ten minutes later when I realized I was late.

I scrambled through the halls of the Humanities building, my sneakers squeaking against the polished marble until I finally found the room number. I took a breath to steady myself and pushed the door open, but the class was already in session. A dozen heads turned to look at me and the professor stopped mid-sentence.

"Nice of you to join us," the professor said, even though he didn't actually look like he thought it was nice at all.

"Sorry," I muttered. "The campus is literally a maze."

He gestured vaguely toward the table. "Take a seat so we can continue."

I scanned the room. The setup was a long, dark oak table that looked stolen from a fancy boardroom. Every chair was filled except for one right at the head of the table. It was a high-backed leather thing that looked suspiciously comfortable, and I didn't think twice because I was tired, my shoulder ached from my bag, and I just wanted to sit down. I walked over, pulled the chair out, and basically just dropped into it.

The silence in the room totally shifted. It went from the normal awkwardness of a late student to something else, something way colder. I felt a few people exchange looks and this girl in a silk blouse actually gasped quietly. Whatever. I ignored them and pulled my notebook out of my bag. I had better things to do than worry about whatever weird social cue I had missed.

Five minutes later, the door opened again.

I didn't look up from my notes; I was busy trying to decipher the professor’s handwriting on the board. But the energy in the room totally spiked, and it felt like the air pressure just dropped. Heavy footsteps approached the table, stopping right beside my chair, and I could see a pair of designer boots out of the corner of my eye.

"You’re in my seat."

His voice was low, smooth, and honestly sounded like he expected the whole world to stop turning just because he spoke. I finally looked up. The guy standing there was, unfortunately, the hottest person I had ever seen in my life, which was so unfair. He had dark hair pushed back from his forehead and eyes that were seriously like ice. He definitely wasn't smiling.

I blinked at him. "There wasn’t a name tag on it, dude."

A few people in the room let out this collective breath. The guy—Cain, according to his notebook nameplate—narrowed his eyes. "It’s my chair," he repeated. "It’s been my chair for three years. Move."

I looked at the chair, then back at him. I leaned back, crossing my arms. "I don't see a reserved sign, Cain. Unless you've got a literal deed for this specific piece of furniture, I think I'm staying put. I'm already settled."

The silence was totally deafening now. I could practically feel the shock radiating off the other students. Clearly, nobody talked to people like him this way, and I could tell by the way his jaw tightened that he was totally not used to hearing the word 'no'.

"Are you new here?" he asked, his voice dropping an octave, which was intense.

"Does it matter?" I countered. "I'm a student. I pay tuition—well, the school pays it for me, but whatever, the point stands. This is just a chair in a classroom. Prove it’s yours or go find another one. There's a stool over there by the window."

Cain stared at me, looking like he was trying to figure out if I was joking or if I actually had a death wish. I didn't blink, I just picked up my pen and went back to writing down a definition of postmodernism. I could feel his gaze burning into the top of my head, and it was so intense and heavy.

For a second, I thought he might actually pull the chair out from under me. But instead, after this long, tense moment, he let out a short, sharp breath that was almost a laugh. He didn't say another word, just turned on his heel and walked to the other end of the room, pulling out a chair next to a guy who looked exactly like him, only with a slightly more amused expression.

I glanced toward the back of the room and caught the eye of the second guy—Cole. He had been watching the whole interaction with his chin resting on his hand, and he didn't look angry like his brother, he looked totally fascinated. Like I was some new species of animal he had never seen before. I looked away immediately.

The rest of the seminar was a blur. I tried to focus on the lecture, but I could feel both of their eyes on me the entire time. It was like being hunted by two very handsome, very expensive predators, which was honestly a little thrilling.

When the professor finally dismissed us, I packed my bags as fast as I could because I didn't want to be the last person in the room with the Calloway twins. I didn't even look their way as I headed for the door, and they didn't say anything or try to stop me—they just sat there, watching me leave.

Outside, the air felt a lot thinner.

"Eli! Wait up!"

I turned to see Petra jogging toward me. She was one of the few people I’d met during orientation who didn't make me want to roll my eyes, and she was a theater major with bright purple streaks in her hair and a personality that was way too bubbly for nine in the morning.

"Did you actually just do that?" she asked, catching her breath as she reached me.

"Do what?" I asked, starting to walk toward the dining hall.

"You sat in Cain Calloway’s chair, Eli. People have seriously been kicked out of the program for less. Okay, that’s a lie, but still. You basically told the king of the school to kick rocks. Do you even know who they are?"

"The Calloways," I said, shrugging. "I saw the names. Rich, I assume?"

"Rich?" Petra laughed, making this high-pitched sound that drew looks from a group of passing freshmen. "Their family basically owns half of this state, Eli. They’re huge legacy students—like, their great-grandfather built the library. Cain is the intense one, and Cole is the one who looks like he’s constantly plotting something sketchy. They don't talk to people, and they definitely don't let people steal their seats."

I shook my head, trying to shake off the weird feeling in my chest. "He was being a jerk, so I don't care how much money his great-grandpa had. A chair is a chair, end of story."

"You’re going to be a total legend," she said, leaning into my personal space. "Or you’re going to be found in the lake. It's a fifty-fifty situation right now."

"I’m not worried about it," I totally lied.

I tried to focus on Petra’s chatter about her upcoming auditions, but my mind kept drifting back to that room, and I had already half-forgotten their names—was it Caleb and Colin? No, Cain and Cole. Whatever. It didn't matter because they were just two more rich kids in a school full of them.

But as I walked across the quad, I couldn't get their faces out of my head: Cain’s icy stare and Cole’s dark, curious eyes. They seriously looked like they belonged on a movie poster about super hot rich people who never lose.

I looked back once, toward the Humanities building, and saw them both standing on the steps, staring straight in my direction. They weren't even talking to each other, just watching me walk away.

I turned my head and kept going. I had a lot of reading to do, and I wasn't going to let two guys in expensive boots ruin my first day, even if my heart was beating a little faster than it should have been.