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CHAPTER 1

POV: Mia

Mia Caldwell wasn’t the kind of girl who believed in signs. She believed in routines, in the quiet comfort of a life mapped out in careful increments. Her days followed a rhythm she could count on: morning run at 6:30, black coffee from the cart near the east gate, lectures until three, then the library until it closed. And every night, without fail, a call with Ethan.

Ethan was six thousand miles away in Tokyo, closing the biggest deal of his career. He sent her photos of neon-lit streets and matcha desserts that looked too pretty to eat. He called her “baby” in that soft, steady voice that had carried her through her sophomore year breakdowns. Their relationship wasn’t fireworks; it was foundation. Solid. Earned.

She wasn’t looking for anything else.

The cafeteria at Ridgewood University smelled like burnt coffee and damp wool from too many rain-soaked jackets. Mia balanced her phone between her ear and shoulder while she scanned the sandwich line. Ethan’s laugh crackled through the speaker.

“Three weeks, Mia. I booked the red-eye. I’m not even stopping at my place first—I’m coming straight to you.”

Her heart did the thing it always did when he said stuff like that: a warm squeeze, followed by the familiar ache of missing him. “You better. I’ve been sleeping in your hoodie every night just to remember what you smell like.”

“Creep,” he teased. “But I love it. How’s the project going? You get a decent partner?”

She hadn’t told him yet. The pairing had only happened that morning, and something about it felt… off. “Not yet. I’ll find out after lunch.”

A group of guys pushed past her, laughing too loud. She stepped back automatically, phone slipping a little. That’s when the door to the side hallway swung open.

He stepped out.

Tall. Not just tall—broad in that way that made the space around him feel smaller. Dark hair, slightly messy like he’d run his hand through it one too many times. Sharp jaw. Black hoodie, sleeves pushed up to reveal forearms corded with muscle. But it was his eyes that stopped her cold.

They met hers across the ten feet of linoleum like he’d been waiting for exactly that moment. No smile. No nod. Just a direct, unblinking stare that felt like it peeled back layers she hadn’t offered anyone. Her breath caught somewhere high in her throat. The phone felt suddenly heavy.

“Mia? You there?”

Ethan’s voice snapped her back. She tore her gaze away, cheeks burning. “Yeah. Sorry, crowded in here. I’ll call you back after class, okay?”

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

She hung up fast, shoving the phone into her pocket like it had burned her. When she looked up again, the guy was gone. The door swung shut behind him with a soft click. She stood there for a second longer than she should have, heart hammering against her ribs for no good reason.

Get it together, Mia.

She grabbed a sad turkey sandwich and a bottle of water, telling herself it was nothing. Just a random hot guy. Campus was full of them. But as she walked to her next class, she could still feel the weight of that stare on the back of her neck.

Professor Langdon’s Advanced Research Methods seminar was in the old wing of the humanities building—creaky floors, too much oak paneling, and windows that never quite kept the October chill out. Mia slid into her usual seat near the middle, pulling out her laptop. She kept her head down, typing notes as the professor droned about methodologies and group accountability.

Then Langdon started listing project pairs.

“Caldwell and Holt.”

Her stomach dropped.

She glanced three rows over. Ryder Holt—he’d introduced himself once during roll call weeks ago—leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, watching her with that same calm certainty. Like he’d known this was coming. Like he’d arranged it somehow.

Class ended in a blur. Students packed up around her, chairs scraping. Mia took her time, zipping her bag slowly, willing him to leave first. He didn’t. He waited at the end of the aisle, hands in his pockets, until the room emptied out except for them.

“You’re Caldwell,” he said. His voice was low, rough like gravel under boots. It did something unwelcome to her pulse.

“Mia,” she replied, forcing her tone light. Professional. “You’re Ryder?”

He nodded once. No handshake. No small talk. Just those eyes—dark green, almost black in the dim light—studying her like she was a problem he intended to solve.

“We should meet soon. The project’s thirty percent of the grade.”

“Right. I have a free slot Thursday after two.”

He pulled out his phone, thumb moving across the screen. “Send me your number.”

She hesitated. It was just a project. Partners exchanged numbers all the time. Still, her fingers felt clumsy as she typed it in when he handed her the phone. When she gave it back, his hand brushed hers—brief, accidental, but the contact sent a spark straight up her arm.

“Thanks,” he said. He didn’t smile. He just looked at her a second longer than necessary, then turned and walked out.

Mia let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. She sat back down in the empty classroom, staring at the whiteboard until the words blurred. Her phone buzzed—Ethan sending a heart emoji and a photo of his desk calendar with red X’s marking the days.

She smiled at the screen, but it felt thin. Forced.

That night, she couldn’t sleep. The dorm room was quiet except for her roommate’s soft snoring from the other bed. Mia stared at the ceiling, replaying that moment in the cafeteria. The way Ryder had looked at her. Not flirty. Not playful. Something heavier. Like he saw straight through the version of herself she showed everyone else.

She rolled over and grabbed her phone, opening her messages with Ethan. Miss you, she typed. Then deleted it. She already told him that yesterday.

Instead, she opened her research notes for the project. The topic was social influence on decision-making. Fitting, she thought bitterly. Because right now, some small, treacherous part of her was making a decision she had no business making.

She typed Ryder’s name into the university directory, telling herself it was just to see if he had any public info for the project. His profile loaded: junior, business major with a psych minor. No social media links. Just a blank profile picture and a single line under interests: Observation.

Mia closed the app fast, heart racing again. She turned her phone face down and pulled the covers over her head.

Three weeks until Ethan comes home. You can survive three weeks.

But even as she thought it, she knew the lie for what it was. Something had already shifted. And Ryder Holt hadn’t even touched her yet.