Chapter 1

‘I wish, just once, Derek would look at me.’

Bryan said it to himself, not out loud, but in his mind where he kept his secrets. He had been standing in front of the bathroom mirror for fifteen minutes, adjusting the collar of his shirt, then messing it up, then fixing it again. It didn't matter. Derek had never looked at him once in two years. Why would today be any different?

Bryan was a second-year business student. Average height, average grades, average everything, except for a quietly pretty face that most people still managed to overlook. He was also a reluctant new member of the university’s swimming club. The coach had seen him doing laps alone one evening and invited him to join the recreational group. Bryan had only attended a few sessions so far. He mostly went because the water helped quiet the noise in his head.

From the first day of freshman year, he had seen Derek across the courtyard, and felt something crack open inside him. It felt like his body knew something his mind hadn't agreed to yet.

Two years later, he still hadn't told a single soul.

He stared harder at the mirror. The face staring back was his own, but it felt like a stranger, a liar, someone who smiled at girls and pretended to be like everyone else.

Then he imagined his reflection talking, like it usually did. But today, his thoughts were harsher than usual.

"Doesn't this sound funny to you, Bryan?" the reflection seemed to say, lips curling into a mocking smile. "You've had a crush on him for two years. Two fucking years. And he still has no idea you exist. You won't tell him because you're a coward. Because you're afraid people will laugh. Because you're afraid they'll be disgusted when they find out you're into men."

Bryan bit his lower lip hard. His subconscious was right. He had dated girls all through high school; pretty ones, nice ones...but every relationship had crumbled because he felt nothing. No spark, just pretending.

He had finally stopped pretending last year. He didn't date anyone anymore. If he couldn’t be with someone he actually wanted, then he wouldn’t fake it at all.

Being alone was easier than being honest.

He grabbed his backpack, took one last look at the mirror, and left his off-campus apartment. The morning air was cold. He walked toward the subway, not bothering with his car, earbuds in, even though nothing was playing. He liked the silence. It let him think.

And today, all he could think about was Derek.

***

The campus was alive and noisy with students spilling out of the main building, clutching coffee cups and arguing about assignments. Bryan moved through them like a ghost...head down, shoulders tight, invisible.

Then he heard the engine.

It was not a car engine. It was something meaner, and louder that it made conversations pause and heads turn.

A black superbike screamed into the parking lot, tires squealing against the asphalt. The rider cut the engine and swung one leg off in a single, fluid motion, then pulled off his helmet.

Ryder.

Bryan's stomach dropped.

Ryder was like a myth. He had transferred to Britton halfway through last semester, and within a week, everyone knew his name. Not because he was friendly… because he was terrifying. Rumors followed him like stray dogs... "His father is in the mafia. He had put a kid in a coma at his old school." The news article about that incident had been scrubbed from the internet within hours, and that alone was enough for people to assume his family had power, and that he might even be the son of a Don.

No one knew the exact truth, and no one dared to ask.

Ryder was tall, about 6’2, with ash-blonde hair that fell across his forehead and eyes the color of frozen lakes. He was beautiful and magnificent from a distance, but deadly up close. He didn’t smile, and he didn’t nod at people. He walked through the world like he owned it while everyone else was just breathing his air.

Today, he was wearing a black shirt and ripped jeans. His hands were bare, and Bryan noticed the bruised, scabbed knuckles, like he had been punching something solid… Or someone.

"God, he's even hotter than I remembered," a girl nearby whispered to her friend.

"Shut up. He's insane."

"I know. That's what makes him hotter"

Bryan looked away before Ryder could catch him staring. He started walking faster toward his lecture hall. He had a class in 4 minutes, a boring lecture about macroeconomics. 

He didn't make it. Neither did his only friend, Valerie who appeared beside him, arms crossed.

"Since we're both late, and the professor won’t let us in… iced coffee?" Valerie asked. Reluctantly, Bryan agreed and they left.

…..

The hallway outside Room 207 was crowded. Bryan and Valerie were moving toward their next class when Bryan rounded a corner at the same time someone stepped out of the classroom.

They collided… hard.

His iced coffee flew out of his hand and splashed down the front of the other person's pants. Dark liquid soaked into the fabric from waist to shin, dripping onto expensive– looking sneakers.

Bryan looked up, and his heart stopped instantly.

Ryder’s frozen blue eyes were staring down at him. There was no expression on his face, no anger… just cold, dead calm, which was somehow worse than rage.

The hallway went silent as students froze mid-step. A girl dropped her notebook in shock.

Bryan couldn't move. His legs had turned to water. His mouth opened, but no sound came out.

Ryder looked at the stain spreading down his jeans before lifting his gaze back to Bryan's face slowly like he was memorizing every detail of the nervous guy in front of him.

"You ruined my pants," Ryder said.

His voice was quiet, and that was what made it terrifying because he didn’t need to yell for everyone to listen.

"I...I'm sorry," Bryan stammered. "I didn't see...I wasn't..."

"Sorry doesn't dry the fabric."

Bryan blinked rapidly, confused for a second. “Huh?”

Ryder tilted his head slightly, the movement almost lazy. “Get on your knees and clean it up… with your tongue.”

A cold wave moved through the hallway.

Someone whispered, “Oh my god.”

Someone else let out a nervous laugh, but no one moved to help.

Bryan’s face burned, and his hands trembled as he looked down at the ruined pants, then back up at Ryder. Ryder wasn’t smiling, and he wasn’t performing anger either. He just stood there, calm and still, like the situation didn’t matter to him at all, like Bryan was an insect that had crawled onto his shoe, and he was deciding whether to flick it off or crush it.

Bryan swallowed hard, his pride screaming at him to run, but his legs wouldn't obey. And some deeper, older instinct...the one that had kept him alive through years of bullying, told him that running would only make it worse.

So he started to lower himself.

His knees bent and his hand reached out toward Ryder's shoe.

Then a hand grabbed his arm and yanked him back up.

"Derek?" Someone said in the crowd.

Bryan turned, and his heart, which had been frozen, suddenly slammed back to life.

It was indeed Derek. Dark hair, sharp jawline, and a smile that could melt even ice. He was holding Bryan's arm with a grip that was firm but not rough. His eyes weren't on Bryan, though. They were locked on Ryder.

"Let him go," Derek said, his voice calm and measured, like that of someone who had grown up rich and never been challenged.

Ryder looked at Derek, then at Bryan, then back at Derek, a muscle in his jaw twitching.

"Why should I?" he asked coldly.