The morning sunlight filtered through Taylor's curtains, way too bright for someone who'd barely slept. Every time she closed her eyes, that voice echoed in her head — "Maybe."
Chris.
Even his name felt like trouble.
She tried to shake it off. New day. New college. New everything. No more getting distracted by random boys in the rain.
By the time she reached the Ridgewood College gates, her nerves were a mess. The place buzzed with laughter and chatter, students in clusters carrying coffees, hugging old friends. Taylor adjusted her bag strap and took a deep breath.
> "You've got this," she whispered to herself.
Her first class — English Literature 101. She slipped into a seat near the window, trying to look casual while her brain screamed please don't talk to me.
A few minutes later, the door creaked open.
Footsteps.
Then a voice she could recognize anywhere.
> "Mind if I sit here?"
Taylor froze.
That grin. That tone. That smug confidence.
She looked up — and there he was. Chris.
He looked even more annoyingly perfect in daylight. Dark hair tousled like he didn't try, grey T-shirt, lazy smile.
> "You—" she blurted, louder than intended. "You're—"
"The guy from the park?" He leaned on her desk. "Guilty."
Taylor groaned, burying her face in her hands.
> "Of all the people in this entire college…"
> "Fate works hard," he said lightly, taking the seat next to hers. "But apparently, I work harder."
> "Please stop talking before I drop out."
He just laughed. The sound was easy, unbothered, like he was enjoying every second of her irritation.
The professor arrived and began the lecture, but Taylor barely heard a word. Every time Chris moved or whispered something smart under his breath, her focus shattered.
At the end of class, the professor smiled and clapped his hands together.
> "All right, everyone! You'll be working in pairs on your first literature analysis project. I'll assign partners randomly."
Taylor felt her stomach twist.
> "Taylor Evans…" the professor read.
"Please not him, please not him—" she muttered.
"…and Chris Bennett."
Chris turned toward her, the grin already forming.
> "Looks like we're officially partners in crime."
> "Partners in pain," she shot back.
> "You say that now," he said, standing up and stretching. "But by the end of this project, you might actually like me."
> "That's the most unrealistic thing I've ever heard."
He winked. "Challenge accepted."
As he walked out, Taylor could still feel her pulse racing — part irritation, part something she didn't want to name.
She sighed, slumping into her chair.
It's only one project, she told herself. How bad could it be?
But deep down, she already knew — with Chris around, nothing was ever going to be just simple.