CHAPTER FIVE

The sting in my palms was still sharp when I looked up.

The person who had tripped me was standing there, arms folded loosely over his chest like he’d just been inconvenienced instead of nearly sending me sprawling face-first into the lockers. His dark eyes swept over me with a slow, deliberate disdain, and then, because apparently the universe had a sense of humor, he gave me the nastiest look I’d ever seen.

Not a guilty one. Not even a bored, indifferent one. No. A look that said I’m annoyed at you… as if I’d somehow wronged him.

Something inside me flared.

My cheeks were already hot with humiliation, but that look… that look ticked me off in a way I couldn’t swallow down. Before I could even think about staying quiet and avoiding further attention, I was already pushing myself to my feet, dusting off my jeans, and squaring my shoulders.

“Really?” My voice came out sharper than I expected. “You trip me, and then you glare at me like it’s my fault?”

His brows lifted slightly, but he didn’t look remorseful. If anything, his lips curled into a mocking half-smile, like he was mildly entertained. “You weren’t even looking where you were going,” he said evenly, his tone laced with a kind of lazy arrogance. “I did try to move out of your way, but you were so wrapped up in… whatever was going on in your head, you didn’t even notice.”

My fists tightened at my sides. “Oh, please. I was walking straight, you cut across me.”

He tilted his head, studying me in that infuriatingly calm way that made me want to shove him. “Maybe your glasses aren’t doing their job,” he drawled. Then, as if to punctuate his pettiness, he kicked one of my scattered books aside with the toe of his sneaker, stepping around me like I was an obstacle.

“Unbelievable,” I muttered under my breath.

He was already stalking off, his shoulders stiff, muttering something incoherent as he went. The laughter from a couple of students down the hall stung more than I wanted to admit.

I let out a slow, tight sigh, bending down to gather my things. My hands trembled slightly, not just from the fall, but from the humiliation curling tight in my chest.

And then a shadow fell over me.

“Autumn?”

I froze at the sound of my name, my head snapping up. Damian stood there, his brows drawn together in concern, the faint scent of his cologne mingling with the faint chemical tang of floor cleaner.

“What happened? And why didn’t you answer when I called you earlier?”

My mind scrambled for an excuse, anything that didn’t involve explaining that I’d been publicly tripped and insulted by some random jerk. I shook my head quickly. “Nothing happened,” I said, forcing my voice to sound light. “And… I didn’t hear you call me.”

His gaze lingered on me like he didn’t believe a word of it. Still, he bent down and started helping me gather my books, stacking them neatly in his hands.

I didn’t want him to. I didn’t want him to see me like this, on the floor, picking up the pieces of my morning. So when he held out the stack, I snatched them from him without meeting his eyes.

“Thanks,” I muttered, already turning toward my class.

“Autumn…” I heard him start, his voice trailing after me. But I didn’t slow down. The hallway noise swallowed the rest of whatever he’d been about to say, leaving me with only the echo of my own heartbeat in my ears.

By the time I slipped into my seat, the first bell had already rung.

I tried to focus. I really did. But the words in my textbook swam together, my pen drifting aimlessly across the margins as I scribbled little loops and half-formed sentences that made no sense. My mind kept replaying the scene in the hallway, the jerk’s expression, Damian’s voice, Marianne in my spot in the car.

The teacher’s voice faded into background noise until…

“Miss Simeons?”

I jerked my head up, blinking. The entire class had gone quiet, all eyes swiveling toward me. My stomach dropped.

“Yes?”

A small frown tugged at the teacher’s lips. “Perhaps you could answer the question I just asked?”

My mind was a complete blank. I glanced helplessly around the room, feeling the flush creep back into my cheeks. Then, from my left, a voice whispered low enough for only me to hear:

“Mercury.”

I hesitated only for a fraction of a second before repeating it aloud. “Mercury.”

The teacher’s frown softened, and he gave a curt nod. “Correct. Sit down.”

Relief washed over me as I sank back into my seat, exhaling slowly. I turned my head slightly to thank whoever had bailed me out… and froze.

It was him.

The guy who’d tripped me.

His mouth twitched, half smirk, half something else, as he leaned back in his chair like nothing had happened.

I forced the words out through clenched teeth. “Thanks.” Then I looked away before he could say anything back.

Class eventually ended, though it felt like an eternity. I packed my things quickly, hoping to slip out unnoticed. But the moment I stepped into the hallway, I could feel it… him, right behind me.

“Hey.”

I didn’t slow down.

“Wait up.”

Still, I kept walking, my eyes fixed straight ahead.

“I’m trying to apologize here,” he said, and there was something different in his tone now. Less sharp. More… awkward? “Look, I was in a bad mood earlier. I shouldn’t have lashed out at you like that.”

I finally stopped, turning to face him. His expression wasn’t mocking this time. If anything, it was sincere, if slightly uncomfortable.

He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I’m Taylor,” he said, then held out a hand.

I stared at it for a moment before reluctantly shaking it. “Autumn.”

His grip was warm, firm without being overbearing. He gave a small nod, like the name registered somewhere in his mind.

“Well, Autumn,” he said, “looks like we’ve got the next class together.”

Great. Just great.

Still, as he started talking, something about how the teacher in the next class had a reputation for being both brilliant and terrifying, I found myself walking beside him toward the next room. His voice filled the space between us, casual and easy, like the hallway tension from earlier had never happened.

I didn’t say much. But I didn’t walk away either.

And somehow, by the time we reached the door, it felt less like an accident that we’d gotten there together… and more like something I’d just let happen.