Chapter 1 – Ava

There she is.

Riley Bennett.

The one person who has irritated me, challenged me, and somehow gotten under my skin since the moment we met. She sits across the lecture hall, perfectly composed, tapping a pen against her notebook as she listens to Professor Hayes drone on about literary analysis. The way she holds herself—back straight, eyes sharp, that frustratingly unreadable expression—makes my blood boil.

Because Riley Bennett? She's my rival.

Not in the dramatic, we'll-kill-each-other-on-a-battlefield way. No, it's worse. It's the kind of rivalry that started with something stupid and kept building until it became its own monster.

And the worst part? I don't even remember how it started.

Maybe it was the first week of college when I made some offhand comment in class and she corrected me with that quiet, matter-of-fact voice. Maybe it was the group project where she refused to let me take the lead, even though I knew I was right. Or maybe it was just that damn look she always gives me—the one that makes me feel like she knows exactly how to get under my skin.

But here's the thing. As much as Riley infuriates me, I can't not notice her.

The way she brushes her hair behind her ear when she's thinking. The way her deep blue eyes darken when she's annoyed. The way she always, always keeps her cool—except when she's arguing with me.

And now, because the universe hates me, I'm about to be trapped with her.

Professor Hayes clears his throat, drawing my attention back to the front of the room. "For this semester's major project, you'll be working in pairs. I've already assigned your partners, so check the list on your way out."

A murmur ripples through the lecture hall. I feel a twinge of unease. Group projects are fine—as long as I get to be in charge.

As soon as class ends, I weave through the crowd to the posted list, scanning for my name. My stomach drops.

Ava Carter – Riley Bennett

My entire body tenses. No. No, no, no, this is a mistake.

I whirl around, ready to protest, and—of course—Riley is already standing there, reading the list with a completely unreadable expression.

Our eyes meet. Something flickers in hers—amusement? Annoyance? I can't tell.

"You've got to be kidding me," I blurt out.

Riley exhales slowly, tilting her head. "Trust me, Carter. I'm not thrilled either."

Her voice is calm. Too calm. Like this is just an inconvenience to her, not the absolute disaster it is to me.

I cross my arms. "You sure about that? Because I'm pretty sure you've been waiting for a chance to make my life miserable."

Riley raises an eyebrow. "Right. Because I control who we get paired with."

I glare. "This is going to be a nightmare."

"Then I guess we'll both suffer," she says coolly.

And with that, she turns and walks away, leaving me standing there, fuming.

This is going to be the worst semester of my life.

I stand there for a solid ten seconds, staring at Riley's retreating figure, fuming.

The nerve of her. The absolute gall to act like this is just some minor inconvenience. Like she's not already planning to make my life hell for the next few months.

I shake my head and storm out of the lecture hall, ignoring the buzz of students around me. I need air.

Outside, the autumn breeze cuts through my jacket, crisp and sharp. The campus courtyard is crowded with students heading to their next classes or lounging under the fading golden leaves, but all I can focus on is my growing irritation.

Why does it have to be Riley? Out of everyone in this class—no, everyone in this entire university—why her?

I pull out my phone and text my best friend, Jess.

Ava: I'm going to SCREAM.

Jess: Ooooh. What happened now?

Ava: Guess who I got stuck with for this semester-long nightmare of a project?

Jess: … No.

Ava: Yes.

Jess: RILEY BENNETT?!

Ava: The one and only.

There's a pause, then:

Jess: Holy shit. I am THRIVING.

I groan. Of course she finds this hilarious.

Jess has always had a front-row seat to my ongoing war with Riley. She's witnessed every snarky remark, every intense argument, every tension-filled moment that definitely wasn't sexual.

Definitely not.

Ava: How do I fake my own death? Asking for a friend.

Jess: Just admit you're into her and get it over with.

Ava: BLOCKED.

I shove my phone into my pocket before I can read whatever smug response Jess is typing.

---

The First Meeting

I show up to the library that evening, mentally preparing myself for the worst. Riley's already there, sitting at a table near the window, flipping through a notebook with her usual composed, unreadable expression.

I drop into the chair across from her with an exaggerated sigh. "Let's get this over with."

She doesn't even blink. "Charming as always, Carter."

I grit my teeth. "We need to set some ground rules. First rule: we don't have to like each other, but we do have to work together. I don't want this project tanking just because we can't stand each other."

Riley tilts her head slightly. "Agreed. And in that case, rule number two: no childish bickering. We focus on the work, not whatever this… thing between us is."

My stomach does a weird flip at the way she says thing, but I ignore it.

"Fine." I lean back in my chair. "Rule three: if you ever get the urge to stab me with your pen, maybe… don't."

That earns me the tiniest smirk. It's gone in an instant, but I saw it.

"Noted," she murmurs.

For a second, we just stare at each other. The tension between us is thick—years of unspoken resentment, competition, something else simmering beneath the surface.

Then Riley exhales and flips open her notebook. "So. Where do we start?"

And just like that, the semester from hell begins.

I tap my fingers against the library table, trying to focus on anything but Riley.

It's impossible.

She's right there, sitting across from me, flipping through her notebook like she doesn't have a care in the world. Like this project isn't a cruel joke from the universe. Like she's not the most infuriating person I've ever met.

The worst part? She looks… good. Too good.

Her black hair is tucked behind one ear, the soft glow from the overhead light catching the sharp angle of her jaw. Her deep blue eyes scan the page in front of her with that same focused intensity she always has—like she's analyzing the world one detail at a time.

It shouldn't bother me. And yet, I feel an annoying heat creeping up my neck.

I shift in my seat, clearing my throat. "So… do we divide up the work, or are you going to insist on micromanaging me?"

Riley doesn't even glance up. "I don't micromanage."

I snort. "Right. And I don't have a competitive streak."

At that, she does look at me—just for a second. "You are competitive," she says, voice calm but laced with something unreadable. "But that's not a bad thing."

I blink. "Did you just… compliment me?"

She shrugs. "You're driven. It's one of the few things I respect about you."

My brain short-circuits for a second. I expected her usual sarcastic remarks, not… whatever this is.

I lean forward, studying her. "Okay, what's your game?"

Riley tilts her head slightly, her lips curling into a barely-there smirk. "No game, Carter. Just facts."

I hate that she calls me Carter. It's distant. Formal. Like she's keeping me at arm's length, and I have no idea why that frustrates me so much.

I open my mouth to fire back with something—anything—but she beats me to it.

"Look," she says, pushing her notebook toward me. "We need to pick a topic. I assume you don't want to waste time arguing over every little thing?"

I force myself to focus. Work first, war later.

My eyes skim the page, and I'm surprised to see she's already jotted down a few ideas. All solid.

I exhale and nod. "Fine. Let's go with this one."

Riley watches me for a second, then nods too. "Good."

For a moment, there's nothing but the quiet rustling of papers and the soft hum of students around us. I hate that I notice the way the corner of her mouth twitches when she's concentrating. I hate that she smells like vanilla and something faintly woodsy.

I hate that, for the first time in years, I don't want to argue with her.

And that? That's terrifying.