Clashing Paths

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.

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