Meilin's POV
Orientation was going fine. I was half-listening to the welcome speech, half-whispering with Ava about how pretty the campus was and how we needed to find the best coffee shop nearby before midterms ate us alive.
Until the door creaked open.
And the room changed.
Like, literally.
Everyone went silent. Even the faculty rep at the front paused mid-sentence as two figures strolled in like they owned the air we were breathing.
Because they did.
Tall. Effortlessly intimidating. Dressed in hoodies and dark jeans like this wasn't the most formal day on our schedule. The one in front had black hair, blue eyes, a cigarette tucked behind his ear like he dared someone to tell him he couldn't smoke it in here. Tattoos climbed up his neck. Piercings glittered on his face. Lip, eyebrow, ears—all of it.
Him.
Mr. Tattoos and Ego.
Right behind him was another guy—lighter hair, devil-may-care grin, a hand shoved in his pocket like he was here for a joke no one else knew the punchline to.
They didn't belong here.
Everyone knew it.
This was orientation. For first-years. And they—well, they weren't.
I leaned toward Ava, whispering, "What are they doing here?"
She didn't take her eyes off them. "That's Austin Blake. Theo Ashford's best friend."
"And he's Theo Ashford, right?"
A pause.
"Yeah," she whispered. "Royalty. Literally. His family owns this university."
Of course they did.
Theo walked down the center aisle like he'd walked it a hundred times. And then—to my utter horror—he stopped right beside me.
And sat down.
In the empty chair.
On my left.
Austin took the one next to Ava, flashing her a wink.
My entire brain went blank.
Theo didn't look at me. Not once. Just leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, eyes forward like he was here for business.
And yet I could feel him.
His presence. His scent—smoke, leather, and something expensive I couldn't name. His aura practically growled.
I swallowed hard.
Ava scribbled something in my notebook without looking.
"This isn't a crush, right?"
I quickly scribbled back.
"It's a threat to my sanity."
And still... I didn't move.
Neither did he.
Theo didn't look at anyone as he sat beside me. Didn't smirk. Didn't gloat. Just leaned back casually, manspreading like the chair owed him rent.
The room was frozen.
The poor faculty rep at the front—some professor with glasses and a cardigan that screamed "friendly but underpaid"—stood completely still, clutching her cue cards.
She didn't dare speak.
And then—
Theo lifted his hand. Just slightly.
Flicked two fingers forward.
A signal.
Silent. Effortless. Like he was motioning for a servant to keep pouring his tea.
The professor blinked.
Then nodded.
And continued talking.
As if nothing happened.
But everything had changed.
I could feel Ava staring at me. I could feel the eyes in the room shift toward us, murmurs rising like static electricity. But Theo? He just stared straight ahead, like he hadn't just silenced and un-silenced a room with a gesture.
I gripped my pen tighter.
This wasn't a man.
This was a walking, talking problem.
And I had a front-row seat.
I was trying not to breathe.
Trying not to move.
Trying so hard not to look at the boy who was now basically invading my personal space just by existing next to me.
And then—he leaned in.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
So close I could feel the warmth of his body, the chill of the metal on his lip ring, the cool brush of his breath against my cheek.
I froze.
He didn't speak right away. Just hovered there for a second too long—enough to make the hairs on my neck rise and my grip on my pen snap tighter.
And then—
In a voice so low it rumbled through my spine, he asked:
"What's your name, tiny?"
His breath smelled like cigarettes and something expensive—spiced cologne with just enough arrogance in the mix to be custom-made.
I turned my head slowly, and our eyes met.
Up close, his blue eyes were darker, more intense. And worse? Amused.
Like he knew what he was doing to me.
I swallowed. "Meilin."
His lips curved just slightly. Not a smile. A smirk that said he'd remember it.
And then he leaned back, stretching like a cat who had already won.
My heart was doing gymnastics in my chest.
I'd officially met the devil.
And he knew my name.