FIRST SIGHT

CHAPTER 2

PART 1

“Ethan Cruz… you’re still ruining me.”

The words echoed in my chest, folding time in on itself.

And suddenly, I wasn’t standing in a glass office anymore.

I was eighteen again.

Freshman year.

The air smelled different back then cleaner somehow, mixed with freshly cut grass and ambition. The kind of air that made you feel like anything was possible, even if you didn’t know what you wanted yet.

The university gates rose in front of the car as the driver slowed to a stop. My reflection stared back at me from the tinted window, soft makeup, glossy lips, and hair perfectly styled. I looked exactly like what people expected.

A Lancaster.

The door opened.

“Miss, we’ve arrived.”

I stepped out, heels clicking softly against the pavement. Conversations paused around me, not fully, just enough. People always noticed. Expensive cars had a way of announcing themselves before the person inside ever spoke.

Behind me, another car pulled in this one carrying my luggage, my clothes, my carefully planned life.

I scanned the campus.

Tall buildings. Open courtyards. Students everywhere laugh, dragging suitcases, hugging parents, already forming groups. It was loud. Alive.

And somehow, I’d never felt more alone.

“Maya!”

I turned to see Lina waving, rushing toward me with a grin. My one friend. The only person I’d allowed close enough to feel real.

“You’re late,” she teased, looping her arm through mine. “I thought rich people owned time.”

I smiled. “Traffic doesn’t care about bank accounts.”

She laughed, pulling me forward. “Come on. Orientation starts soon.”

We walked together through the main courtyard. Heads turned. Whispers followed. I felt them slide over my skin like background noise noticed, admired, judged.

I’d learned early how to move like I didn’t hear any of it.

As we reached the steps near the lecture hall, a sound cut through the chatter.

A low engine.

It wasn’t loud or showy. It was smooth. Confidence. Controlled.

My attention shifted before I could stop it.

A motorcycle rolled into view at the far end of the courtyard.

Black. Clean. Minimal.

The rider slowed, boots hitting the ground as he parked effortlessly. He pulled off his helmet, running a hand through slightly messy dark hair.

And just like that, everything else disappeared.

I stopped walking.

Lina kept going for a step before realizing I wasn’t beside her anymore. “Maya?”

I didn’t answer.

Because I was staring at him.

He stood there laughing with three other guys, helmet tucked under his arm, posture relaxed. He wore a plain white T-shirt, jeans, and boots worn just enough to look lived in. Nothing about him screamed for attention.

Yet he owned the space anyway.

Something deep in my chest shifted.

Hard.

“Who is that?” I heard myself ask.

Lina followed my gaze. “Motorbike guy? I have no idea. It's probably a freshman, too.”

He smiled at something one of his friends said, head tilting slightly, eyes narrowing with amusement.

My stomach flipped.

I had no explanation for it. There's no reason. No logic.

I just knew.

“That’s trouble,” Lina added casually. “You should avoid him.”

I didn’t blink.

He turned then, scanning the courtyard lazily, and his eyes found mine.

The world went quiet.

It wasn’t dramatic. No slow motion. No sparks flying across the sky.

Just a look.

Steady. Curious. Guarded.

His expression didn’t change when he saw me. No surprise. No awe. Just calm awareness.

Like he’d already decided something and wasn’t sure if he liked it.

My breath caught.

Then, just as quickly, he looked away.

Dismissed.

As if I were just another face.

The sting was sharp and unexpected.

“Let’s go,” Lina said, tugging my arm.

I let her pull me inside, my heartbeat uneven.

“Don’t look,” she whispered. “You’re staring.”

“I’m not,” I lied.

But even as we sat down in the lecture hall, even as the dean began speaking, my mind stayed outside with the boy on the motorbike who looked at me like I was nothing special.

And somehow… that bothered me more than anything ever had.

Ethan noticed her the moment she stepped out of the car.

He just didn’t let it show.

He leaned against his bike, listening to Jace talk about dorm assignments, but his attention wasn’t really there. It shifted instinctively to the sleek black car, the way it stopped like it belonged.

Then she stepped out.

And for a split second, he forgot how to breathe.

She didn’t rush. Didn’t fidget. Didn’t look around like she needed approval. She moved like the ground adjusted itself for her.

Beautiful, yes, but that wasn’t what caught him.

It was the way her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“She’s trouble,” Mark muttered beside him.

Ethan didn’t respond.

He watched her walk, watched the way people noticed her , pretended not to, and watched the way she stood tall anyway.

Rich girl, his brain supplied calmly.

The kind he should stay far away from.

When her eyes met his, something tightened in his chest.

He held the look for half a second just enough to acknowledge her.

Then he looked away.

Because wanting things you couldn’t have was a habit he’d worked too hard to break.

“Come on,” he said to his friends, swinging his backpack over his shoulder. “Orientation.”

He walked past the lecture hall doors without looking back.

But even as he took his seat inside, his awareness stayed sharp.

He knew where she was. He just pretended he didn’t.

PART 2 ORBIT

Ethan slid into a seat near the back of the lecture hall, his friends spreading out beside him with the careless ease of people who had known each other long enough to be silent together.

“Did you see her?” Jace muttered, leaning in. Ethan didn’t answer. Mark snorted. “Of course he did. Everyone did.” Ethan opened his notebook, uncapped his pen, and stared down at the blank page as if it might rescue him. The murmur of students filled the hall, voices overlapping, chairs scraping, laughter echoing too loudly in the enclosed space.

Then she walked in.

The sound shifted.

Not quieter, just different.

Ethan felt it before he saw her. The subtle pause in movement. The way attention tilted. She entered with her friend, moving down the aisle with calm assurance, scanning the room once before choosing a seat three rows ahead and slightly to the left.

Too close.

He could see the fine curve of her neck. The way a loose strand of hair slipped free and brushed her shoulder. She leaned toward her friend, whispering something, lips curving into a small smile.

Ethan’s grip tightened around his pen.

“She’s sitting in your line of sight,” Jace said quietly. “Unlucky.”

“Focus,” Ethan replied flatly.

The dean’s voice boomed through the speakers, welcoming them, outlining expectations, and talking about excellence and opportunity. Ethan really listened, writing notes, grounding himself in routine.

But every so often, his attention betrayed him.

When a guy two seats behind her, he leaned forward and spoke too close to her ear.

When she stiffened slightly, smile polite but strained.

Ethan noticed before anyone else.

He stood up without thinking.

“Bathroom,” he muttered, slipping past his friends.

He moved down the aisle and paused briefly beside the guy, tapping the desk with two fingers.

“Orientation’s loud,” Ethan said evenly. “Might want to give people space.”

The guy blinked, surprised, and then scoffed. “Who are you?”

“Someone who noticed,” Ethan replied.

The message landed.

Ethan didn’t wait for a response. He walked out of the hall, heart steady, steps unhurried, as if nothing had happened.

Inside, though, something had shifted.

Maya noticed.

She noticed everything.

The guy behind her had leaned in again, too close, his voice unnecessary. She had been seconds away from shutting him down when someone stood beside them.

The presence was unmistakable.

She hadn’t even looked yet, but she knew.

The voice was calm. Low. Controlled.

She turned just enough to see him.

Motorbike guy.

He didn’t look at her when he spoke. His attention stayed on the other student, posture relaxed but firm. No aggression. No performance.

Just certainty.

The guy muttered something and leaned back.

And then he was gone.

Maya stared at the empty space beside her desk for a heartbeat too long.

“Was that for you?” Lina whispered.

Maya shrugged, pretending nonchalance. “Probably.”

But her pulse told a different story.

The rest of the day unfolded like a series of near-misses.

She saw him across the quad during lunch, standing with his friends, laughing softly at something on Jace’s phone. He didn’t look in her direction.

She passed him near the library steps, close enough that she could smell clean soap and something warm coffee, maybe. He stepped aside instinctively to give her space, eyes forward, expression unreadable.

No glance.

No acknowledgement.

By the third time, it irritated her.

“You’re frowning,” Lina said as they walked toward the dorms.

“I’m not.”

“You are. Like someone insulted your shoes.”

Maya huffed. “There’s this guy. He keeps being… present.”

Lina grinned. “Oh?”

“He helped me earlier. Then, I pretended I didn’t exist.”

“That’s called mystery.”

“That's annoying.”

Lina laughed. “Are you interested?”

Maya didn’t answer right away.

She thought of the way he’d stood up without hesitation. The way he hadn’t waited for gratitude. The way he’d disappeared before she could speak.

“Yes,” she said finally. “I think I am.”

That evening, the freshman welcome mixer filled the outdoor courtyard with string lights, music, and the smell of food trucks. Maya wore a simple dress, nothing flashy, just soft fabric and confidence.

She spotted him near the far end, leaning against a railing, drink in hand.

There is no motorbike tonight.

She walked straight toward him.

Ethan noticed her approach out of the corner of his eye.

He didn’t move.

Didn’t turn.

Didn’t run.

She stopped beside him.

“Hi,” she said.

He glanced over, finally meeting her eyes fully for the first time.

Up close, she was worse.

Not in looks he’d expected that but in presence. She was warm. Open. It's too easy to talk to. Too dangerous.

“Hi,” he replied.

She smiled. “You helped me earlier.”

He shrugged lightly. “It didn't seem like you needed help.”

“Still,” she said, holding his gaze. “Thank you.”

He nodded once. “You’re welcome.”

Silence stretched between them, not awkward, just… unclaimed.

“I’m Maya,” she added, extending her hand.

He looked at it for a second longer than necessary, then took it. His grip was warm, firm, and brief.

“Ethan.”

“That’s it?” she teased. “No last name?”

He released her hand. “That’s usually enough.”

She laughed softly. “Are you always this guarded?”

“Only with strangers.”

“Good,” she said. “Then we’re not strangers anymore.”

He almost smiled.

Almost.

“So,” she continued, glancing around. “Do you always rescue people and disappear?”

“I don’t rescue,” he said. “I will intervene.”

She tilted her head. “Is there a difference?”

“Yes.”

“Explain.”

He studied her for a moment, then said, “Rescuing assumes weakness. Intervening just corrects a situation.”

She held his gaze, impressed. “I like that.”

He shifted slightly, uncomfortable. “You shouldn’t.”

“Why?”

“Because you don’t know me.”

She stepped closer, not invading, just closing the space enough to matter. “Then I guess I’ll have to fix that.”

Before he could respond, someone bumped into her from behind. She stumbled forward instinctively.

Ethan’s hand caught her arm.

Quick. Steady.

Protective.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low.

“Yes,” she said, breathing unevenly not from the stumble.

He released her immediately, stepping back as if burned.

She watched him, eyes sharp now.

“You do that a lot,” she said.

“Do what?”

“Protect people without staying.”

He didn’t answer.

She smiled anyway. “We should be friends.”

He blinked. “Friends?”

“Yes,” she said easily. “Low pressure. No expectations.”

He hesitated.

Behind her confidence, he saw the sincerity. The lack of agenda. The openness that could undo him.

“I’m busy,” he said.

She nodded. “So am I.”

“I mean”

“I know what you mean,” she cut in gently. “We’ll find time.”

He exhaled slowly. “You’re persistent.”

“Only when I want something.”

“And what do you want?”

She met his eyes without hesitation.

“You,” she said simply.

A beat.

Then he looked away, jaw tightening.

“That’s a mistake,” he said quietly.

She didn’t retreat.

“Maybe,” she replied. “But I’ve always liked learning the hard way.”

Music swelled behind them. Laughter drifted through the air. The night pressed in, warm and alive.

Ethan turned back to her.

“Walk with me,” he said.

She smiled. “I thought you’d never ask.”

He started toward the edge of the courtyard, not touching her, but close enough that she could feel him there.

And for the first time since arriving on campus.

They moved in the same direction.