One
CHAPTER ONE
ROWAN
The bass was loud enough to shake the fucking stairs.
I regretted coming here immediately.
Bodies packed the basketball house wall to wall, sweat and alcohol thick in the air while someone absolutely murdered a Drake song somewhere in the kitchen.
“Tess,” I shouted over the music, “if I die here, I’m haunting you specifically.”
My roommate laughed without even looking back. “You’re being dramatic.”
“A guy just threw up into a plant.”
“That’s college, babe.”
I hated everyone here.
Especially the basketball team.
Blackthorne treated them like gods for putting a ball through a hoop, which apparently meant they got away with everything. Miss classes? Fine. Start fights? Fine. Hook up with half the campus? Legendary behavior,apparently.
Meanwhile if I submitted one article late, Daniel acted like journalism itself was collapsing.
Bullshit.
I pushed through the crowded living room, gripping my drink harder as someone bumped my shoulder.
“Watch it,” I snapped.
“Relax, sweetheart.”
I rolled my eyes before even turning around.
Athlete.
Obviously.
Tall. Broad shoulders. Blackthorne basketball hoodie stretched over tattoos and muscle. Beer bottle hanging loosely from one hand.
Not Mason Reed, thankfully.
Just another campus clone grown in a lab somewhere.
I kept moving.
The house was massive — all dark wood floors, expensive speakers, framed jerseys on the walls. Rich-kid athlete aesthetic. You could practically smell generational wealth under the tequila fumes.
“Rowan!”
Serena appeared out of nowhere, slightly out of breath.
“You disappeared.”
“I was trying to.”
