Three days after that mixer, there's another event—this one's even bigger. The comms department is hosting its annual alumni fundraiser, and, as usual, Stella insists I tag along. She's convinced I need to "network" if I'm actually serious about my major, but honestly, I'm just here for the free food, not to schmooze with suits.
The party's on a trendy rooftop, all brick walls and fairy lights. Alumni in pricey clothes are scattered around, chatting with professors while students hover near the snack table, trying to look impressive. I spot a couple of people from class, but most of the room is older, deep in conversations about money and university politics.
And, naturally, Parker's here. Because why wouldn't he be.
He's across the patio, easy in a navy blazer with rolled-up sleeves, surrounded by alumni and faculty. He's laughing, looking perfectly at home. Meanwhile, I'm sipping a tasteless sparkling water, feeling out of place.
Stella gives me a nudge. "You're staring again."
"It's called observing," I say.
She grins, teasing. "If you say so."
I keep watching. Parker scans the room, and when his eyes find mine, he actually pauses. My heart skips. He says something to his group, steps away, and heads straight for me.
Stella's eyes go wide. "He's coming over."
"Don't make it weird," I mutter.
"Good luck," she whispers, then disappears, leaving me stranded at the railing.
Parker stops nearby, hands in his pockets, face unreadable.
"Avery," he says.
"Professor."
"Didn't think I'd see you here."
I shrug. "Free food, hard to resist."
A small smile flickers across his face. "Can't argue with that."
We stand there, surrounded by the noise of the party, neither of us moving.
"How are your classes going?" he asks.
"Good. Especially yours."
"Is that flattery?"
"Nope. Just the truth."
He tilts his head, studying me. "You don't seem like the type to hand out compliments."
"I'm not."
"Then I appreciate it."
He says it in this soft, teasing way that makes my cheeks burn. I turn and pretend I'm interested in the city lights.
"Do you always mingle at these things?" I ask. "Or is this a special occasion?"
"Comes with the territory. Donors like seeing us engage with students."
"Sounds exhausting."
"Sometimes. Not tonight."
I glance his way. "Why not tonight?"
He hesitates, like he's thinking about how much to say.
"You're not like the others," he finally says. "Most freshmen are still figuring out who they want to be. You seem to already know."
I let out a quiet laugh. "You really think that?"
"Don't you?"
I almost dodge the question, but for some reason, I don't.
"I knew who I was. Now? Still figuring it out."
He nods. "That's more than most people your age."
"Is that a compliment?"
He shrugs. "Maybe. A little of both."
The silence that follows is heavy, almost electric.
Then someone calls his name from across the patio—a faculty member waving him over.
He sighs. "I should go."
"Yeah."
But he doesn't move. Neither do I.
He says my name, almost under his breath.
"Yeah?" I ask.
He leans in, just close enough for me to catch the scent of his cologne—fresh, woodsy, expensive. His voice drops, meant for me alone.
"I'll see you again, right?"
My breath catches. It's not really a question. It's a dare.
I meet his gaze. "You'll have to wait and see."
He gives me a slow, knowing smile. "Can't wait."
And just like that, he's gone, melting back into the crowd.
I'm still there, clutching the railing, heart racing, hands shaking.
Stella reappears, practically buzzing. "What'd he say?"
"Nothing," I say, not fooling her for a second.
She laughs. "You look like you just stuck your finger in a socket."
"Just small talk," I insist.
"That was not small talk."
She's right, and we both know it.
I watch Parker rejoin his group, but every so often, he glances my way.
Stella whistles. "You're asking for trouble."
"I know."
"And you don't care?"
"Not even a little."
She groans. "This is going to end in disaster."
"Probably."
But I can't help smiling. For the first time since I saw Liam and Madison together, the anger's faded.
I feel alive.
That night, back in my dorm, I'm lying on my bed, laptop open, scrolling through Instagram without really seeing anything.
My phone buzzes.
A text. Unknown number. Enjoyed our conversation tonight. – E.P.
My stomach does a somersault. He got my number. Don't ask me how.
I stare at the screen, then type back: Likewise. See you Monday.
Cool. Simple. Like I'm not losing my mind.
Three dots flicker, disappear, then reappear.
Looking forward to it.
I put my phone down, heart pounding.
Stella's already asleep, snoring.
I close my laptop, staring up at the ceiling. Monday's two days away.
Two days until I walk into his class, sit up front, and act like nothing's different.
Pretend I'm not obsessing over that moment—when he leaned in, when he looked at me like I was the only one there.
I close my eyes.
Let the games begin.