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2025-08-18 00:20:56CHAPTER ONE:
Ollie’s POV
If staring at Ryder Caldwell counted as a full-time job, I’d already be employee of the month.
It wasn’t like I wanted to. My eyes just… drifted. Always. They found him across the quad, lounging with his teammates, sunglasses low on his nose like he thought he was some rockstar. They found him in the student lounge, grinning like the sun itself had appointed him king of the universe. And they found him here, now, at the café table in the middle of campus, his tattooed arm around Serena Miller—aka his latest plastic Barbie.
He was laughing. Of course he was. Everything was always funny to Ryder.
And God, did I hate him for it.
Hate him for the tattoos peeking out from under his shirt sleeves. Hate him for the way his messy brown hair fell across his forehead like it was staged for a photoshoot. Hate him for the way he looked like he owned everything he touched.
And I especially hated that my stomach gave this annoying little flip every time I saw him.
“You’re doing it again,” Allison said, voice sing-songy beside me.
I snapped my head toward her. “Doing what?”
“Staring at Ryder like you’re planning to either kill him or kiss him. Honestly, it’s hard to tell sometimes.”
I choked on my iced coffee. “Excuse me?”
She grinned like a cat with cream. “Don’t act innocent. I’ve been your best friend since high school. I know what you're saying.”
“I don’t…..”
“......like him?” She finished for me. “Yeah, sure. That’s why you’ve been watching him for the last ten minutes instead of reading your notes.”
I slammed my notebook shut, cheeks burning. “I can’t wait to graduate and never see his face again.”
Allison leaned her chin in her hand. “Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that.”
I groaned, running a hand through my hair. Allison wasn’t just my best friend, she was also annoyingly observant. And lately, she’d gotten even bolder since she’d started dating Mark Jensen, one of the Red Falcons’ golden boys. Which also meant she was orbiting Ryder’s world now, whether I liked it or not.
And I really didn’t.
“I still can’t believe you’re dating Mark,” I muttered.
Her eyes softened, but she smiled. “I like him, Ollie. He’s sweet. He’s not Ryder, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Everything revolves around Ryder,” I said darkly.
She rolled her eyes. “Not everything.” Then she straightened, suddenly bright. “Speaking of, you’re coming with me tonight.”
“To what?”
“The afterparty, duh. The Falcons beat the Wildcats. It’s a huge deal. There’ll be music, drinks, half the campus…”
“No thanks.”
She groaned. “Ollie. Please. For me? It’s important. Mark wants me there. I want you there. You’ll have fun.”
“Being surrounded by drunken athletes and their groupies? Yeah, sounds like a blast.”
“You can at least pretend. You don’t have to talk to Ryder.”
I snorted. “As if that’s possible.”
But she begged and she bargained and eventually bribed me with Taco Bell. Which is how I ended up, several hours later, standing in the doorway of a sweaty, overcrowded frat house with bass thundering through my chest and the smell of spilled beer in the air.
Allison looked radiant, her hand tucked into Mark’s as he led us deeper into the chaos. Mark was tall, broad-shouldered, and clearly proud of the jersey he still wore. He smiled down at her like she was the only one in the room. I tried not to gag.
And then I saw him.
Ryder.
He stood in the center of the living room, a red cup in hand, tattoos crawling up his forearm, black shirt clinging to him like sin itself. His hair was messy in that perfect way, and he wore that signature smirk like it was carved into his face. Serena clung to his side, her nails digging into his shirt like she was afraid he’d vanish if she let go.
He looked untouchable. Like he owned this place. And everyone else seemed to agree.
“Hey, Ollie,” Mark said, pulling me from my trance. “Glad you came, man.”
I nodded stiffly. “Yeah. Sure.”
But Ryder’s eyes flicked across the room then, landing right on me. And I swear, his smirk widened like he’d just found his evening’s entertainment.
Shit.
Within minutes, he was striding over, Serena trailing along like a shadow. A few of his teammates followed, eager to watch. My stomach sank.
“Well, well,” Ryder drawled, stopping in front of me. He towered just enough to remind me how small I was compared to him. “Didn’t expect to see you here, Oliver.”
I hated the way he said my full name, like he was mocking me just by pronouncing it.
“It’s Ollie,” I muttered.
He smirked. “Right. Ollie. Forgot.” He tilted his head, tattoos shifting on his skin as he raised his cup. “What are you doing here? This isn’t really your scene, is it? No book club meetings tonight?”
A few of his teammates snickered. Heat crept up my neck.
“I came with Allison,” I said tightly.
His gaze flicked to her, then back to me. “Of course. Makes sense. She’s dating Mark now.” He clapped Mark on the shoulder. “Congrats, bro. She’s way too hot for you.”
Mark laughed awkwardly. Allison forced a smile, clearly torn between punching Ryder and keeping the peace.
Then Serena leaned forward, eyes scanning me up and down like I was something stuck to her shoe. “Aw, Ryder, don’t be mean. He looks… What's the word? Out of place.”
“Lost,” Ryder supplied smoothly, his smirk deepening.
“Exactly.” Serena giggled, pressing a kiss to his jaw.
Laughter rippled through the group. My fists clenched at my sides.
“You know what?” Ryder said suddenly, raising his voice so the people around us could hear. “I think Ollie needs a drink. He looks thirsty.”
Before I could respond, he plucked a cup from a passing table and shoved it into my hand. Beer sloshed over the edge, dripping onto my shirt.
The group roared with laughter.
“Oops,” Ryder said, not sounding sorry at all. “Guess you’ll need to wash that later. Or maybe you like the drowned-rat look. Brings back memories, doesn’t it?”
My chest tightened. He remembered our freshman year. The spilled beer. The humiliation that haunted me. He hadn’t forgotten, he’d been waiting to use it again.
“Ryder, cut it out,” Allison snapped, stepping forward.
He smirked at her, unbothered. “Relax, sweetheart. We’re just having fun.”
“Fun at my best friend’s expense?”
Ryder’s eyes locked on mine, sharp and gleaming. “He can handle it. Can’t you, Ollie?”
Every nerve in my body screamed to walk away, to not give him the satisfaction. But my mouth betrayed me.
“Go to hell,” I muttered.
The crowd “ooohed,” like we were kids on a playground. Ryder’s smirk sharpened.
“Feisty,” he said. “I like it.”
I shoved past him, heart pounding, face burning with shame. The sound of his laugh followed me, echoing in my head long after I’d disappeared into the crowd.
And I hated that underneath the anger, underneath the humiliation, my chest still tightened at the sound.
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