The neon sign for The Vault flickered with a rhythmic hum that matched the throbbing in my temples.
It had been fourteen days.
I was leaning against the bar, a shot of tequila sitting untouched in front of me, watching the strobe lights cut through the smoke and the sweat of the dance floor. Around me, the world was loud, messy, and predictable. Exactly how I liked it.
"Earth to Cole," Jax shouted over the bass, bumping my shoulder with his glass. "That girl over by the DJ booth has been staring at you for twenty minutes. She's practically vibrating. You going to do something about it, or are you retiring the jersey?"
I pulled my gaze from the door—a habit I hadn't been able to kill—and looked at the girl.
She was wearing a dress that left nothing to the imagination and had the kind of hungry look that usually acted as an invitation I couldn't refuse.
"Just pacing myself, Jax," I said, my voice smooth, practiced. I downed the shot, the burn a welcome distraction. "Quality over quantity tonight."
"Since when?" Theo laughed from my other side, leaning back against the bar rail. "The legend of Cole St. James was built on quantity. You've been off your game for two weeks, man. Ever since that 'fortress' girl blew up at your place, you've been acting like you're waiting for a call that isn't coming."
"I'm not waiting for anything," I snapped, the edge in my voice sharper than I intended. I forced a grin, the lead-heavy mask sliding back into place.
"I'm just enjoying the view. Two weeks of freedom. No projects, no lectures, no 'meaningful connections.' Just the motions."
And I was winning.
That was what I told myself every morning when I woke up in a bed that didn't feel like mine, next to someone whose name I didn't care to remember.
I was back in the motions.
I was the King again.
I had successfully ghosted the ghost.
In the last fourteen days, I had seen Maya exactly four times.
The first was in the quad, three days after the "autopsy" at my apartment. I had been walking with a girl named Chloe—or maybe Camille—and I'd seen Maya sitting on the same bench as before.
I didn't look at her.
I laughed a little louder at something my date said, making sure my hand was firmly on the small of her back as we passed. Maya hadn't even looked up from her book.
The second was in the cafeteria. I'd walked in with Jax and Theo, the three of us taking up space like we owned the air. Maya was at a corner table with Sienna. Sienna had rolled her eyes so hard I thought they'd get stuck, but Maya... Maya just watched me.
She didn't look angry.
She didn't look disgusted anymore.
She looked at me with that calm, analytical gaze, like she was watching a bug under a microscope, curious to see which way it would scuttle when the light hit it.
The third and fourth times were just flashes—her dark hair disappearing around a corner, the scent of her perfume lingering in a hallway I'd just stepped into.
I was convinced I was moving on.
I was convinced that the "hollow" feeling was just a side effect of a bad hangover.
"Listen," Jax said, leaning in, his eyes bright with the kind of mischief that usually ended in a police report. "Enough of this brooding shit. There's a massive end-of-midterms bonfire tonight out by the lake. Everyone's going. Even the 'nerds' are coming out to play. I heard a certain brunette might be there."
I felt a jolt of electricity hit my spine, but I kept my face neutral.
"The lake is a trek. I might just head home."
"Oh, come on," Theo nudged me. "Don't tell me the King is scared of a little fire. Or is it the girl? You scared she's going to tell you you're empty again?"
I set my glass down with a thud. The challenge was set. If I didn't go, it was a concession. If I stayed away, it meant she had power over my geography. And Cole St. James didn't let anyone dictate where he stood.
"Fine," I said, grabbing my jacket. "Let's go. But I'm driving. I'm not staying until sunrise if the crowd is shit."
The lakefront was a chaotic sprawl of orange light and dark shadows. The bonfire was a towering pyramid of flame that hissed and popped against the night sky, throwing long, distorted shadows across the sand. Music was pumping from a set of truck speakers, muffled by the sound of the wind through the pines.
I stepped out of the car, adjusting my leather jacket, feeling the familiar hum of a party settle into my bones. Jax and Theo were already heading toward the kegs, shouting greetings to people I barely recognized.
I didn't head for the alcohol. I stood at the edge of the light, my eyes scanning the crowd.
I told myself I was looking for a spot to settle.
I told myself I was looking for the easiest target.
Then I saw her.
She was standing away from the main heat of the fire, near a fallen log. She wasn't drinking. She wasn't dancing.
She was just... observing.
She was wearing a simple oversized hoodie and jeans, looking like she belonged to a completely different world than the one currently vibrating around her.
And, of course, Sienna was there. Sienna looked better—her face had a sharp, defensive edge. She saw me first. She leaned into Maya's ear, whispering something, her eyes fixed on me with a glare that could have pierced armor.
Maya didn't flinch. She slowly turned her head.
Our eyes locked across the fire.
The heat of the flames felt like nothing compared to the sudden, suffocating pressure in my chest.
Fourteen days of "the motions" crumbled in a single second.
I expected her to look away. I expected her to walk into the darkness. But she didn't. She just watched me. That same clinical, steady gaze.
It wasn't the look of a girl who had been hurt; it was the look of a scientist waiting for the next reaction.
"Cole! Hey, Cole!"
A girl I'd met at a party a few months ago—Lindsey?—slid her arm through mine, leaning her head on my shoulder. She was pretty, blonde, and smelled like vanilla and vodka. She was the perfect shield.
"Hey, Lindsey," I said, my voice loud enough to carry. I didn't look at her; I kept my eyes on Maya. I flashed my most arrogant, "King of the Playground" smirk.
I wanted her to see that I was fine.
I wanted her to see that her words hadn't left a mark.
I leaned down and whispered something in Lindsey's ear that made her giggle and press closer to me. I was performing. I was a puppet on a string, and I knew Maya was the one holding the crossbar.
I led Lindsey toward the fire, moving with a swagger that felt like a lie. Every step I took closer to the flames made the "hollow" pit in my stomach feel wider. I was surrounded by people, by noise, by the promise of another meaningless night, but all I could feel was the weight of that one girl's eyes on the back of my neck.
"You're being loud tonight," Jax said, appearing beside me with two red solo cups. He handed me one. "Even for you. You trying to wake the dead?"
"Just having a good time, Jax," I said, taking a long pull of the lukewarm beer. "Isn't that the point?"
"Sure, man. If that's what you call it." Jax glanced over toward the log where Maya was sitting. He smirked, a knowing, competitive glint in his eyes. "She's a piece of work, isn't she? Even from here, you can feel the 'stay away' vibes."
"She's just a girl, Jax," I said, my jaw tightening.
"Is she? Because you haven't looked at the blonde on your arm once since we got here." Jax patted my back. "Don't worry. If you can't handle the heat, I'm always down for a challenge. I bet she's a lot more fun when she's not playing the saint."
I felt a surge of irrational, hot anger flare up in my throat.