15. The Kiss Heard Around Campus

I didn't move. I couldn't move. My mind was trapped somewhere between disbelief and the desperate need to breathe.

I kissed Elias Hawthorne.

No. He kissed me. But I hadn't exactly pushed him away, had I?

My lips were still tingling, the ghost of his touch electric and impossible to ignore. My first kiss. My actual first kiss. And it was with him, the brooding, infuriating heir who probably hated my guts.

What the hell just happened?

"Shit."

The whispered words cut through the stunned silence like a knife.

I blinked, finally tearing my eyes away from the firelight. I realized the bonfire circle had fallen utterly silent. Every eye was on me, burning into me with a mixture of shock, curiosity, and something darker.

"She kissed him," a girl near the front murmured, but not quietly enough.

"Did you see that? A first year just kissed Elias Hawthorne!" someone else whispered, louder now.

"No way. He kissed her!" came a sharp voice from the other side of the circle.

Suddenly, like vultures circling a wounded animal, the crowd surged forward.

Questions and whispers collided around me, sharp and fast like arrows.

"What was it like?"

"Are you dating him now?"

"Did he taste like fire whiskey?"

"Do you even know who you kissed?"

"Why you?"

My pulse pounded so hard I was sure everyone could hear it. My breath caught in my throat, panic rising like wildfire as the pressure of dozens of stares squeezed the air from my lungs.

A few girls nearby narrowed their eyes, their looks sharp and cold, daggers I could almost feel piercing me. One girl's glare was so fierce I half expected her to claw me right there.

"Who does she think she is?" a voice hissed, bitter and broken. "Kissing Elias Hawthorne like that."

"Was it planned?" sneered another. "Is she just desperate for attention?"

My breath caught again. The questions became a suffocating roar in my ears. My chest tightened, the world tilting sideways. I wanted nothing more than to disappear.

Then, like a beacon in the storm, I saw her.

Freya.

She burst through the crowd like a whirlwind, fierce and wild-eyed. Her red hair swung like a banner behind her as she searched for me.

Our eyes locked for a split second, and I nearly collapsed in relief.

"There you are!" she called, her voice sharp, cutting through the chatter. She grabbed my arm with a grip so tight it almost hurt. "Come on. Now."

"I—Freya—"

"No time. Run!"

I didn't argue. I let her pull me forward as we weaved through the crowd, dodging clusters of students gaping and whispering. Voices called out our names, some shocked, some scandalized, some amused.

My heart hammered. My lungs burned. My mind was a chaotic storm of thoughts I couldn't untangle.

We burst onto the empty basketball court, the hum of the bonfire fading into silence.

Freya finally released my arm and bent over, hands on her knees, chest heaving.

Her eyes were wide and wild, the kind of wide-eyed that screamed, you have no idea what you just unleashed.

"You KISSED Elias Hawthorne," she said, voice a sharp whisper that barely kept from shaking. "Do you understand how insane that is? Do you?"

I groaned and ran a hand through my hair. "I didn't exactly plan it. He kissed me, technically. It was a dare. And oh my God, Freya—" I dropped my hands to my face and groaned again. "My first kiss. My actual first kiss. Gone. Wasted on him."

Freya's jaw dropped so far I thought it might hit the floor. "Wasted?" She gave me a look that was half disbelief, half 'you're crazy.' "Girl, you just got kissed by one of the heirs. Do you even realize what kind of chaos that is going to cause? People worship him. Half the girls at this school would sell their souls just to be you right now."

"Yeah, well, they can have him," I muttered, though even to my ears the words sounded weak and hollow.

Freya gave me a slow, mischievous grin. "Well, at least your first kiss will go down in history," she teased. "Half the campus saw it."

I peeked at her through my fingers, horror creeping up my spine. "You're kidding."

Tilting her head, she put on the most fake sympathy I've ever seen. "Oh no, sweetie. I give it five minutes before someone posts it on the school forum. 'Scholarship Girl Kisses Elias Hawthorne.' It's probably trending already."

I groaned loudly, dropping my hands and sinking onto the nearest bench, the night air cool against my flushed skin.

"This is a nightmare."

Freya flopped beside me, grinning like she was having the time of her life. "Honestly? I'm impressed. The heirs never let anyone get close, much less you know what."

"Don't remind me," I muttered, still running my hands over my lips, which felt like they'd been branded.

The memory of Elias's gaze, dark, stormy, unrelenting, wouldn't leave my mind. .

I hated it.

I hated how my stomach flipped and twisted when I remembered the firm grip of his hand on my arm.

I hated that the kiss felt less like a sweet moment and more like a dare, like he was silently telling me, try to pull away.

And worst of all, I hated that I didn't.

Freya nudged me with her elbow, breaking through my thoughts.

"Okay," she said, voice dropping to a teasing whisper. "Tell me everything. Was it soft? Was he gentle? Did he—"

"Freya!" I snapped, suddenly embarrassed.

"What?" She smirked, unfazed by my reaction. "You kissed Elias freaking Hawthorne. Spill. You owe me all the juicy details."

I rolled my eyes but couldn't stop the grin tugging at my lips.

Freya's wild energy bubbled over as she sat back, looking utterly pleased with herself.

"You have no idea what you just unleashed," she said seriously, eyes gleaming with mischief and warning all at once. "This? This is going to change everything."

I swallowed hard, heart pounding again, suddenly realizing she was right.

The kiss wasn't just a moment. It was a spark.

And it was about to set the whole school on fire.