Chapter 33 Kristen
The next morning, I was halfway across the courtyard when I saw him again, Caleb, at one of the secured doors that only students with access could open. The late morning sunlight glinted off the polished metal handles and the glass panels, but he wasn’t admiring the architecture. He was patting his pockets with this slightly frantic look, like he’d checked every spot a normal person kept their key card and still come up empty.
My backpack strap dug into my shoulder as I slowed my steps, curious first and then a little amused. The door stayed locked, and he tilted his head from side to side, like the problem could be solved by brute force or sheer will. When he didn’t notice me at first, I had time to take in the faint crease between his brows, a kind of charming panic I wasn’t sure I’d expected from him.
“Hey,” I called after a moment, stepping closer. The courtyard seemed quieter around us, the usual bustle pulling a little farther back like it sensed a disruption. “You okay?”
He turned, startled, then smiled when he recognized me. “Hey,” he said, that warm sort of greeting that felt like sunshine against cold skin. “Card’s missing. I swear I had it this morning.”
I blinked at him, not sure whether to laugh or just hand it over to him. It was stupidly cute, not the typical kind of reaction I expected from someone whose face rotated half the social gravity of this school. He looked like someone who actually belonged here, effortless in sneakers and jeans, whole world in his pocket and confidence in his stride.
“I’ve got mine,” I said, fishing out the slim card from my wallet and holding it out.
He exhaled, relief flooding his features, and I tapped the card against the reader. The lock disengaged with a click that felt far too satisfying, and Caleb grinned at me like I’d made the sun rise a little brighter.
“Lifesaver,” he said, giving me that easy, warm smile again. “Can’t wait for the party, by the way.”
I raised a brow at that because normally guys like him didn’t faze me, at least not beyond that discordant little flutter when someone was kind. But there was something in the way he said it, in his tone and the soft edge beneath it, that made my pulse skid in a way I didn’t expect.
“Yeah?” I asked, not sure where the conversation was headed. “Why?”
He leaned against the wall next to the door, one shoulder touching the cool surface, eyes bright in a way that felt almost intentional. “I’ve got a surprise for you,” he said like it was a secret tucked under his tongue.
I tilted my head, curiosity piqued. “What kind of surprise?” I asked, trying to keep my voice casual.
“Come on,” he said, stepping a fraction closer, not too close but close enough that the space between us felt charged. “Then it wouldn’t be a surprise.”
I swallowed, caught off guard by the way he didn’t just look at me, he seemed to see me, like seeing more than a name or a face. Then he dipped his voice just barely, a low undertone that made the sunlight behind him seem less bright. “But I promise you’ll like it.”
A wink followed, casual and practiced, and then he was stepping back toward the building, closing the space between us and the normal flow of campus life.
I stood there blinking, heart fluttering like it was trying to escape my chest. I wasn’t sure what just happened. The advisory centers always said that people interpreted flirting differently, that context mattered, that confirmation bias could make a casual comment feel loaded. But with Caleb… it didn’t feel casual. Not exactly. It felt like a doorway opening just enough to hint at something waiting on the other side, something warm and unexpected and possibly not entirely innocent.
I watched him disappear into the hallway, tall and unhurried, and then exhaled slowly, trying to regulate the sudden heat in my cheeks. My pulse was still throbbing, persistent enough that I doubted it was just coincidence.
As I continued toward my class, my thoughts kept circling back to his words. A surprise. Something I’d like. Not obligatory. Not a perfunctory social line. It was personal in that unplaceable way that made me feel both curious and slightly off balance.
My steps slowed, like I was moving in slow motion even though the world around me was unrelenting in its speed. What was I doing, really? Getting caught up in the popular golden boy’s smile and a cryptic line about surprises? I wasn’t usually the type to be fazed by someone’s charm or easy confidence. Usually, I could watch the surface and keep a mental distance between him and me.
But with Caleb, it was different.
There was something about the way he looked at me, not lingering, not calculating, just… present. No irony. No pretense. Not like Clarissa’s cold appraisals that felt like weaponized judgment. Caleb’s attention was light, warm, direct. It disarmed me in ways I wasn’t prepared for.
And for reasons I couldn’t quite articulate, maybe because it felt unearned or maybe because it felt too genuine, I didn’t really want to explain it away.
I smiled to myself, a slow, tentative lifting at the edges of my lips, the kind of smile that made the weight of campaign posters and course schedules and party logistics feel a fraction lighter.
That smile lasted up until I turned the corner and saw Clarissa standing there. She wasn’t moving. She was just leaning against a pillar, arms crossed, eyes locked on me in a way that was almost too precise to be casual observation.
My heart constricted again, but this time it wasn’t the warm kind of constriction. It was the one that felt like a warning light in the back of my skull. Clarissa’s gaze was fire in slow motion, deliberate, measured, and not at all kind.
She didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to. The intensity of her stare was enough to communicate exactly what she’d seen, Caleb, me, that exchange at the gate. The way her eyes narrowed made it clear she knew the whole conversation, or at least she believed she did.
I stiffened, posture tightening despite myself, but I lifted my chin a fraction. I wasn’t going to flinch. Not now. Not because of her stare or the simmering threat she carried on the edges of her expression. Not because it felt like she wanted to paint the world and me in colors I wasn’t ready to wear.
“I saw you,” her lips parted just enough that her voice didn’t need to be heard for her meaning to register. She could have said almost anything. What she communicated without speaking was enough.
I locked eyes with her for a heartbeat, resisting the instinct to look away or shrink. This was enemy territory, someone making their presence known, marking their gaze, laying claim to something that wasn’t theirs yet felt territorial nonetheless.
Then I turned and walked on.
I didn’t run. I didn’t flinch. I walked.
My steps were measured, not quick, not hesitant, just certain.
I wouldn’t back down. Not now. Not from her. Not from whoever else decided to plant themselves in my mental orbit.
Clarissa’s eyes followed me until I was out of sight, probably calculating, evaluating, plotting. My own chest felt tight not with fear but with resolve. I didn’t know what the ramifications of any of this were, Caleb’s surprise, Clarissa’s ice cold observation, the way tension hung in the hall like static electric in the air before a storm.
As I slid into my seat in class, that chair by the window with more sunlight than the seats near the board, my mind turned over the day’s events like a stone in the river of my thoughts. Caleb. Clarissa. The gulf between intrigue and threat. Anna’s honest to god warning beat against the inside of my skull again and again:
Clarissa is the Leo if the Leos have a Leo. You sure you want to take her on?
I didn’t answer that question. Not even to myself. I turned my book slightly in my lap, eyes fleeting toward the window where the light danced across the pavement. Something told me the party wasn’t just a social event on a schedule.
It was going to be the breaking point.
And I couldn’t wait to see what happened next.