Rules and Plans

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.

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