Chapter 4: Lines We Shouldn’t Cross

Chris hadn't planned to think about Skylar again.

She was just another student, another passing conversation in a place filled with thousands of people. He had spent years mastering the art of staying invisible, of keeping his world separate from the chaos that came with wealth and expectations.

But for some reason, she lingered.

Maybe it was the way she had looked at him—not with the wide-eyed admiration or curiosity he was used to, but with something else. Something unreadable. Or maybe it was the way she hadn't pressed him for answers, even though he could tell she wanted to.

Either way, by the time he reached his usual seat in the lecture hall, he knew he had let her take up more space in his mind than she should have.

And then she walked in.

Skylar scanned the rows of students before spotting him, her lips curling into a small smirk as she made her way over. "Is this seat taken?"

Chris raised an eyebrow. "Didn't take you for the type to sit in the back."

Skylar shrugged, setting her bag down. "Maybe I'm expanding my horizons."

He didn't argue, but he also didn't miss the way her fingers tapped against the desk—restless, distracted.

The professor started the lecture, but Skylar wasn't paying attention. Chris could see it in the way her gaze flickered to her phone every few minutes, her brows drawing together slightly before she forced her expression back into indifference.

After a while, he leaned over slightly. "If you keep looking at your phone like that, it's going to combust."

She blinked, startled. Then she sighed, locking the screen. "Family stuff," she muttered.

Chris didn't respond right away. He could tell she wasn't saying it for sympathy—if anything, she looked like she hated even admitting it.

"That bad?" he asked, keeping his voice low.

Skylar let out a short, humorless laugh. "Let's just say I'm being encouraged to make… strategic choices."

Chris didn't have to ask what that meant.

Marry rich. Save the family name. Secure a future that wasn't really hers.

He had seen it before. He had grown up around it—people who treated relationships like business transactions, love like an afterthought. It was one of the many reasons he kept his distance from that world.

But Skylar didn't seem like the type to accept it so easily.

"So what are you going to do?" he asked.

She glanced at him, surprised. Most people didn't bother asking. They just assumed she'd do what was expected of her.

"I don't know," she admitted. "What would you do?"

Chris exhaled. "I stopped letting other people decide my life a long time ago."

Skylar studied him, her expression unreadable. "Must be nice."

He didn't answer. Because the truth was, it wasn't always nice. Sometimes, it was exhausting. Hiding who he was, keeping people at a distance, constantly wondering who would still look at him the same way if they knew the truth.

But before he could say anything, the professor called on Skylar.

"Miss Whitmore, care to share your thoughts on the reading?"

Skylar straightened, slipping back into the role she was used to playing—composed, confident, untouchable.

"Of course, Professor," she said smoothly. And just like that, the conversation between them was over.

But Chris had a feeling it wasn't the last time they'd talk about it.