The late afternoon sun poured over Aurelius University’s quad like liquid gold, gilding the fountains, the stone benches, the white columns that loomed over them all. Students were scattered across the lawn, sprawled out on picnic blankets with open textbooks or tossing a football in lazy spirals. For all its pristine wealth and manicured image, the place always pulsed with an undercurrent of arrogance, as though the ground itself whispered about old money and bloodlines that had never worked for what they owned.

Rhett leaned back against the bench where Grant was sprawled, Camden lounging beside him with his phone tilted up at just the right angle to catch the light on his jawline. Asher sat cross-legged, strumming something soft and experimental on the guitar he carted around like an extension of his arm. It was their ritual, midday stretch between classes, a loose circle of half-mocking, half-serious conversation, a rhythm that had been theirs since they were boys.

“So,” Rhett drawled, nudging Grant with the side of his arm, “how’s Cassetta treating you these days? Still has you wrapped around her little finger?”

Grant didn’t even blink. His smirk cut sharp as glass. “Funny you care, Rhett. Maybe you should worry less about Cassetta and more about your one-sided thing. What’s it been? Ten years?”

The other two—Camden stretched out across the bench like he owned the place, Asher staring at the sky listening to music in one ear—broke into laughter instantly. Camden slapped his hand against his thigh, nearly knocking the phone he’d been scrolling with right out of his grip.

“Damn,” Camden wheezed, choking on his own laughter. “He got you there, man. Straight for the jugular.”

Rhett rolled his eyes, but he could feel the tips of his ears heating. He leaned back, crossing his arms, and tried for a grin that looked far steadier than he felt. “Yeah, yeah. You all act like you’re not just jealous.”

“Jealous?” Asher lifted a brow. “Of what, exactly? The fact that you’ve been staring at the same girl since middle school? Or that your parents had to lock her down at twelve for you in an arrangement just to give you a fighting chance?”

That sent Camden into another fit of laughter, his phone slipping from his hand this time. It clattered against the ground. He was too busy pointing at Rhett like he’d just won the lottery.

Rhett shoved Asher’s shoulder hard enough to make the headphones fly out of his ear. “You’re an ass.”

Grant, lounging back against the stone ledge of the courtyard, looked insufferably entertained. He adjusted the cuffs of his blazer, like he had all the time in the world, and smirked. “Don’t get too defensive, Rhett. We all know you’re hopeless. Ten years of sighing into your pillow, and what? She still barely looks your way?”

Rhett groaned and dragged his hand down his face. “You all suck, you know that?”

Camden finally retrieved his phone, shaking his head in mock sympathy. “We’re just trying to prepare you, man. If she turns you down flat, we don’t want you crying into your protein shakes.”

Asher added in. “Or worse, asking me for a sad playlist.”

The group roared again, and Rhett shoved himself to his feet. He was tall enough that the shadows from the archways caught his face, but it didn’t hide the irritated twitch at his jaw. “You know what? Screw you guys. I’ll see you later.”

Grant tilted his head, that same smirk never slipping. “Go on then. Go find your fairytale. We’ll be here when you realize it’s still a one-sided story.”

Rhett didn’t bother answering. He stalked off, the sound of Camden’s laughter and Asher’s lazy strumming trailing behind him like smoke he couldn’t shake.

---

The campus was alive with the easy rhythm of midafternoon. Sunlight slanted across polished stone walkways, and students lounged in clusters under the trimmed hedges, voices carrying soft and low over the hum of the breeze. Aurelius had that shine, like money had been poured into every brick, every leaf, every statue dotting the quad. Rhett’s long stride carried him past it all, his jaw set, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket.

And then he saw her.

{{user}}.

She was walking just ahead, the crowd bending around her without her even realizing it. Rhett slowed, his chest tightening in that familiar, frustrating way. Ten years. Ten years since he’d first heard the word arranged, since his parents had sat him down with smug little smiles and told him his future was secured. He’d been twelve, too young to understand what it meant—but old enough to feel the rush of something he hadn’t been able to shake since.

His feet carried him forward before he’d thought it through.

“Hey,” he called, a little too quick, a little too eager. When she turned, he felt his throat catch, but he forced a grin. “Didn’t think I’d catch you out here. Lucky me, right?”

He walked alongside her, trying to keep his stride casual. His hands flexed in his pockets like he didn’t trust them not to fidget.

“You, uh—got plans later? I was thinking, maybe, you could swing by. My place. Nothing formal. Just... you know. Comfortable.” He realized he was talking too fast and cleared his throat. “Not like—not like it has to be a big deal. Just food. Music. Whatever you like.”

She glanced at him, and Rhett swore his heart was trying to punch through his ribs. He kept going, words tumbling out before he could stop them.

“I figured, since—well, you know. The whole... thing. Our parents.” He scratched the back of his neck, laughing softly, awkwardly. “Might as well not make it weird, right? No pressure, though. Totally no pressure.”

His grin wavered, and he caught himself rambling. He stopped, exhaling hard, then tried again. Slower this time. “What I mean is—I’d like it. If you came by. Just us. No parents. No rules. Just...us getting to know each other, outside of all that.”

He tried for a shrug, but it came out stiffer than he’d wanted. “I mean, you probably have better things to do. I wouldn’t blame you.”

Rhett felt the awkward weight of it pressing in, but he forced himself to keep smiling. His eyes flicked to the side, then back to her, softening. “Still. The offer stands. Anytime. I’ll...I’ll wait.”