Ava Daniels believed life could be contained inside neat little boxes.

Color-coded, highlighted, bullet-pointed boxes.

At twenty-three, she had already perfected the art of living by her planner. Her week was a symphony of sticky notes and alarms: 6:00 a.m. run, 8:00 a.m. contracts lecture, 2:00 p.m. study group, 6:00 p.m. phone call to Grandma Mae. Every hour had its purpose, every task its rightful slot. Even heartbreak had been allotted three weeks on her calendar—three weeks to mope about Ethan Matthews, to replay every romantic cliché he had broken, and to box it away under the tab labeled “Lessons Learned.”

Now, Ethan was filed away, and Ava was back to normal. Or at least her version of normal—sharp heels clacking across the law library floor, caffeine in one hand, case law in the other. No distractions.

Or so she told herself.

“Your face screams midlife crisis,” Jessie said, sliding into the seat across from her. Jessie—roommate, best friend, and chaos incarnate—plopped down a tray with an iced mocha the size of a toddler. Her curly hair bounced as she grinned. “You’re twenty-three. You can’t look like this until at least thirty.”

Ava didn’t look up from her notes. “I’m fine.”

“You’re annotating a rental contract like it’s a breakup letter.” Jessie snatched the pen from her hand. “This is an obsession, not fine.”

“It’s law school.” Ava finally met her gaze, eyes narrowed. “Some of us actually want to pass the bar.”

Jessie rolled her eyes. “And some of us want you to have a pulse. You haven’t laughed since Ethan.”

The name felt like a paper cut. Not deep enough to bleed anymore, but sharp in its sting. Ava closed her book with a sigh. “We’re not talking about him.”

“Fine. We’re talking about your tragic love life in general. Solution? Dating app. Tonight.” Jessie’s eyes sparkled like she had discovered fire.

“Absolutely not.”

“Absolutely yes.” Jessie shoved her phone across the table, already open to a profile builder. “It’s modern medicine for broken hearts. Swipe left, swipe right, laugh at bios that say ‘fluent in sarcasm.’ It’s practically free therapy.”

Ava pushed it back. “I don’t do messy.”

“You are sterile. Clinical. Organized. Which is why you need to be messy.” Jessie leaned in. “One date. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Ava considered listing possibilities—identity theft, serial killers, awkward silences—but Jessie’s grin was disarming. Against her better judgment, Ava tapped a few buttons.

Five minutes later, her profile was live. Ava Daniels: coffee addict, aspiring lawyer, occasional over-achiever.

She set the phone aside and buried herself back in her textbook. Out of sight, out of mind.

Except Jessie squealed, “You’ve got a match already!”

Ava froze. “That’s impossible. I literally just—” She glanced at the screen.

The name read: Liam Carter.

Her stomach dropped.

Of all the names in the world, it had to be that one.

She knew Liam Carter. Everyone did. He was Ethan’s best friend. Ethan’s ride-or-die. Ethan’s partner in frat-party crime, in reckless adventures, in every immature escapade Ava had rolled her eyes at during their two-year relationship.

And now, apparently, he was her match.

Jessie leaned over her shoulder. “Oh. Oh. He’s hot.”

Ava snatched the phone. Liam’s profile picture was infuriatingly photogenic—messy dark hair, camera slung over his shoulder, a grin that looked like it had broken hearts across three zip codes. Photographer. Traveler. Lives for the moment.

The opposite of her in every possible way.

“It’s a glitch,” Ava said, shoving the phone back. “Has to be.”

“Or fate.” Jessie wagged her brows. “Come on, Ava. He’s not your ex. He’s just… related adjacently.”

“He’s off-limits.”

Which should have been the end of it. Except her phone buzzed.

Liam Carter: Well, this is awkward.

Her pulse skipped.

Another buzz.

Liam Carter: Unless you’re into awkwardness. Then we’re a perfect match.

Jessie howled with laughter loud enough to earn shushes from the entire library. Ava’s cheeks burned.

“Block him,” Ava muttered, fumbling for the screen.

But her thumb hesitated.

Block him, yes. That was the responsible thing to do. The rule-abiding thing to do. The Ava Daniels thing to do.

Instead, she found herself typing:

Ava: This never happened.

Three dots appeared immediately.

Liam Carter: Agreed. Totally erasing this from memory. Starting… now.

She rolled her eyes, but a reluctant smile tugged at her lips.

---

The night stretched long, filled with case law and coffee, but Liam’s smirk haunted the margins of her notes. Every time she tried to drown herself in statutes, his texts blinked across her memory.

It wasn’t supposed to matter. He didn’t matter.

But for the first time in weeks, her planner wasn’t enough to keep the chaos out.

And deep down, Ava Daniels knew—she had just broken a rule she would never be able to rewrite.

The universe had a sick sense of humor. Ava knew this. She had witnessed it firsthand the night before when her dating app decided, out of millions of single men in the city, to deliver Liam Carter straight into her notifications like some cosmic prank.

She told herself she wouldn’t think about it again. She told herself she would delete the app, focus on torts and property law, and never let Liam Carter’s cocky grin occupy a single neuron in her brain.

And then she walked into Contracts 201 and found him leaning against the back wall like he owned the place.

Ava stopped dead in the doorway, clutching her books to her chest. Liam looked up from his phone, smirk already in place as if he had been waiting for this moment.

“Well,” he said, voice low and lazy. “If it isn’t my match.”

Heads turned. Ava’s throat tightened. “Shut up,” she hissed, darting past him toward the nearest empty seat.

Unfortunately, the universe doubled down on its sense of humor.

Daniels,” Professor Marks barked from the front of the room. “Partner up with Carter for the semester project.”

Ava nearly dropped her coffee.

Her eyes snapped to Liam’s, and for a moment, she swore she saw victory flash across his face.

---

They met later that afternoon in the law library—her sacred ground. Ava set her laptop on the table, determined to make this interaction as sterile as possible. No small talk, no jokes, no accidental smiles. Just outlines, citations, and progress.

Liam slid into the chair across from her, tossing his camera bag onto the floor. He wasn’t even in law school—he was auditing this class as some kind of elective, padding out his credits for a photography degree.

A fact that irritated her more than it should have.

“You don’t even belong here,” she muttered, opening her notes.

Liam leaned back, arms crossed. “And yet here I am. Fate’s funny like that.”

“This isn’t fate. It’s administrative incompetence.”

His grin widened. “Tomato, tomahto.”

Ava inhaled through her nose. Focus. Work. “We need to pick a case study. Something we can do both research.”

“Cool,” Liam said, stretching. “I’ll handle creative angles, you handle the boring legal stuff.”

She glared. “This is law school. It’s all legal stuff.”

“Exactly why you need me. Otherwise, you’ll put the entire class to sleep.”

Her fingers tightened on the keyboard. “I don’t need you.”

“Clearly,” he said. “You’ve got everything perfectly under control. That’s why you’re radiating stress like a malfunctioning Wi-Fi router.”

A laugh escaped before she could catch it. Just a small one, quick and sharp, but Liam’s eyes lit up like he had scored a goal.

“There it is,” he said softly. “Proof you’re human.”

Ava snapped her laptop shut. “We’ll meet here tomorrow. Same time. Don’t be late.”

She grabbed her books, ready to escape, but Liam’s voice stopped her at the door.

“Hey, Daniels.”

She turned, impatient.

His smirk softened into something else—something that made her pulse stutter. “For the record… I’m not your ex.”

Ava stared at him, words failing, before she walked out without answering.

---

That night, Jessie sprawled across their couch, scrolling on her phone. “So. How was Project Doom with Liam?”

Ava collapsed beside her, groaning. “He’s insufferable.”

Jessie’s grin widened. “Insufferable hot, or insufferable annoying?”

“Both,” Ava admitted before she could stop herself.

Jessie whooped. “I knew it. Sparks. You’ve got sparks.”

“No. I’ve got heartburn. That’s all.”

Jessie shoved a pillow at her. “You can’t deny it forever. You matched for a reason.”

Ava buried her face in her hands. Reason? There was no reason. Just chaos. Just the universe laughing at her carefully drawn boxes.

And worst of all—she wasn’t sure she hated it.

Saturday nights at campus parties were a tradition Ava had never understood. The music was too loud, the drinks too sticky, and the conversations too shallow. But Jessie had a way of dragging her out of her comfort zone with arguments Ava couldn’t quite resist.

“You need a break,” Jessie had insisted, tugging on her arm. “A real break. Not alphabetizing your flashcards or cleaning out your email inbox.”

So now, Ava stood in the middle of a crowded fraternity living room, clutching a red plastic cup like a lifeline. She had already checked her watch twice. Forty-five minutes. That was enough to satisfy Jessie. Then she could sneak out and get back to her color-coded planner.

The bass rattled her bones as people shouted, laughed, and danced. Jessie was already swallowed by the crowd, twirling with a boy in a backwards cap. Ava sighed and headed for the quietest corner she could find.

That’s when she saw him.

Liam Carter.

He was leaning against the kitchen counter, beer in hand, dressed like the universe had given him a casual-wear sponsorship—dark jeans, white t-shirt, leather jacket. His camera hung across his chest even here, as if he couldn’t exist without it.

Of course he noticed her immediately. His grin was instant, infuriating.

“Well, well,” Liam drawled, pushing off the counter. “If it isn’t my favorite study buddy.”

Ava groaned. “Don’t start.”

“Start what?” He raised his hands, mock-innocent. “I was just going to say you look…” His eyes flicked down and back up, shameless. “…like someone who doesn’t want to be here.”

She crossed her arms. “Because I don’t.”

“Then why are you?”

“My roommate.” She scanned the crowd for Jessie, who was now dancing on top of a couch. “She dragged me.”

Liam followed her gaze, chuckled. “She seems like the type.”

“She’s a bad influence.”

“Maybe you need a bad influence.”

Ava shot him and looked sharp enough to cut glass. “I don’t.”

But Liam didn’t flinch. He just stepped closer, lowering his voice. “You sure about that?”

Her pulse betrayed her, skipping in her throat. She turned away, heading toward the back porch for air. But of course, Liam followed.

---

Outside, the night was cooler and quieter. String lights draped across the porch glowed softly, casting golden halos on the wooden planks.

Ava leaned against the railing, trying to steady herself.

“You always run away when I show up?” Liam asked, settling against the opposite post.

“I’m not running.”

“Right. You just strategically relocated to avoid conversation.”

She sighed. “Why are you even here?”

“Same reason as you. Bad influence. My buddy dragged me.” He shrugged, easy. “And, you know, free beer.”

Ava shook her head. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re predictable.”

That stung more than she expected. “Excuse me?”

“Come on, Daniels. You’ve got your life mapped out like a GPS. Law degree, big firm job, maybe a golden retriever. You don’t even cross at yellow lights, do you?”

Her spine stiffened. “There’s nothing wrong with having a plan.”

“There’s everything wrong if the plan is the only thing you ever live for.”

The words lodged in her chest. She hated how easily he cut through her armor, how casually he exposed the very fear she kept buried: that without her rules, she’d fall apart.

“Not everyone wants to live recklessly,” she snapped.

“And not everyone wants to live like a robot.”

They stared at each other, tension taut as a wire. For a moment, Ava thought she saw something softer in his eyes—curiosity, maybe even admiration—but then Jessie stumbled onto the porch, laughing, and the spell broke.

“There you are!” Jessie slurred, linking arms with Ava. “Come on, the DJ’s playing your song!”

Ava shook her head. “I don’t—”

But Jessie was already dragging her back inside, Liam’s smirk following her like a shadow.

---

Later that night, lying in bed with her textbooks stacked neatly on the nightstand, Ava tried to convince herself she hated him.

Hated his smirk.

Hated his arrogance.

Hated the way he challenged everything she thought she knew.

But what unsettled her most was this: buried beneath the irritation, she didn’t hate the way her heart raced when he looked at her like he saw straight through her rules.

And that, more than anything, scared her.