CHAPTER TWO
Zade
They say life is full of fucking adventures. Personally? I'd rather deal with a swarm of insects than a single "adventure." Adventures are messy. They ruin your clothes. And right now, an adventure is the only reason I'm crouching behind a display of stale-ass beef jerky like a common shoplifter.
"Oh my god, Zade? Why are you down there? Get up!"
I groan, the sound vibrating deep in my chest. Briar. Of all the places on this massive campus, she has to be in this specific Quick-Stop. She's the kind of ex who doesn't understand the fundamental rule of the universe: exes don't do "ex" things anymore. We don't hang out. We don't "bump into" each other at 8:00 AM.
I rise to my full height, my joints popping after that pathetic attempt at stealth. My eyes immediately snap toward the back of the store—toward the swinging restroom door where that red-headed disaster just vanished.
She's going to fucking pay for this.
She looked me dead in the eye, mouthed a mocking little "sorry," and threw me straight to the wolves. Literally nobody does that to me. Usually, people are tripping over themselves just to stay in my orbit, but this girl? She looks at me like I'm a bug she wants to squash under her muddy boot.
"Zade? Hello? Earth to Zade?"
Briar is shaking my arm. She's a goddamn leech. I look down at her—she's beautiful, I guess, in that high-maintenance, blonde way that usually works for me. But she's a sucker for fuckers. That's why we "broke up," though we were never actually in a relationship to begin with. It's more like a mutual haunting that I eventually stopped responding to.
"What the hell is wrong with that girl?" Briar asks, wrinkling her nose as she stares at the spot where the redhead was standing. "She looks like she crawled out of a sewer. And why did she point at you like you were a criminal?"
"Because she's a psycho, Briar," I mutter, my jaw so tight it aches.
I shove a hand through my hair, feeling the heat crawling up my neck. It isn't a blush—it's pure, unadulterated irritation. My skin feels tight. I can still feel the way that girl looked at me. She points at me with so much... audacity.
"Do you know her, Zade?" Briar presses, her eyes narrowing. She has a talent for sniffing out competition, even when the competition is covered in street grime.
"No, I don't know who the hell she is," I snap. "But she's going to pay for this shit."
"Pay for what?" Briar asks, blinking those massive fake lashes.
"For being a brat," I say, finally peeling her hand off my sweater.
I check my watch. Fuck. I have the Senior Finance Seminar in ten minutes. It's the most prestigious track in the department—the place where the professors treat you like junior partners and the recruiters from the Big Four are already circling like sharks. I need to be "The Magnetic Powerhouse." I need to be the guy everyone wants to be or be with.
Instead, I'm being interrogated in a Quick-Stop while smelling like industrial bleach and defeat.
"Listen, Briar," I say, putting on that $10,000 smile—the one that usually shuts people up. I lean in just enough to make her breath hitch. "I have a massive presentation. I'm stressed. I'm clearly losing my mind. The hiding thing? It was a joke. A stupid game."
"It didn't look like a game," she pouts, but she's softening.
"It was. But I really have to go."
I don't wait for her to respond. I walk out of the store, the cold morning air hitting my face, but it does nothing to dampen the fire under my skin. I climb into my car—the one the redhead had the nerve to complain about—and grip the leather steering wheel until my knuckles turn white.
I'm Zade Hamilton. I'm the one who sets the terms. I'm the one who decides who gets splashed and who gets an apology.
I slam the car into gear and roar away from the curb, not giving a damn if I hit another puddle. Somewhere on this campus, She has no idea that in my world, when you push someone, they don't just push back. They crush you.
I'm going to find her. I'm going to get a name. And then I'm going to make sure she realizes that 'sorry' was the only chance she had to stay on my good side.
Now? She's on my list. And nobody likes being on my list.