Chapter 1 — Whispering Pines Intrusion

Hannah

The golden glow of the late afternoon sun spilled through the stained-glass windows of Whispering Pines Library, casting fractured patterns of color onto the hardwood floors. This was my sanctuary—the one place on campus where I could breathe without the chaos of undergrad life pressing in from all sides. The library wasn’t just a building to me; it was a refuge, a steady constant in a world that always seemed just a little too unpredictable.

And my table—my table—was the cornerstone of that sanctuary. Tucked near the back, hemmed in by towering bookshelves, it offered a perfect view of Lake Seraphine through its arched window. It wasn’t just a spot to study. It was where I’d pieced myself together after finals last year, where I’d scribbled through late nights to craft the essay that renewed my scholarship. It was mine, not by claim but by ritual, by necessity.

Armed with a latte from the library café and my meticulously highlighted notes, I wove my way through the labyrinth of shelves. The air smelled of old books and fresh coffee, and the faint hum of whispers and turning pages wrapped around me like a blanket. My sneakers made almost no sound on the polished floor, and for a brief, rare moment, calm settled over me. Whispering Pines had a way of doing that—muting the noise, giving me space to feel in control, even if just for a little while.

But when I turned the corner, my heart sank.

There he was, stretched out in my spot like he owned the place.

Jace Matthews.

The audacity of that man. Long legs propped up on the opposite chair, one arm draped casually over the backrest, he looked like the dictionary definition of effortless arrogance. A textbook lay open in front of him, though the unfocused glaze in his impossibly blue eyes suggested he wasn’t actually reading it. His messy dark blond hair looked like it hadn’t seen a comb in days, but somehow it only added to his maddening charm. And then there was that dimpled half-smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, like he already knew he’d ruined my day and was reveling in it.

I stopped dead in my tracks, latte hovering mid-air. My first instinct was to turn around, find another table, and avoid the confrontation altogether. But why should I? This was my table. My refuge. And he—he with his stupid, perfect-smile-that-wasn't-actually-perfect—had no business being here.

I tightened my grip on the strap of my bag and approached, my steps deliberate.

“You’re in my seat,” I said, my tone clipped and precise.

Jace looked up, startled at first, but his expression quickly shifted into that infuriatingly cocky grin he was known for. “Oh, hey, Carter.” He gestured lazily to the vacant chair across from him. “Plenty of room. Pull up a seat.”

“I’m not here to join you,” I snapped. “I’m here to tell you to move.”

He leaned back farther, the chair creaking under his weight. “Last I checked, this wasn’t assigned seating.”

“It’s not,” I said through gritted teeth, “but I’ve been sitting here every Thursday for the past two semesters. So if you wouldn’t mind—”

“Guess you should’ve gotten here earlier.”

He shrugged, cutting me off with an infuriating smirk, and I could almost hear the unspoken challenge in his voice.

My fingers tightened around my latte. My mind scrambled for a sharp retort, but all I could think about was how he always managed to unsettle me with that stupid, easy confidence. “I’m not in the mood for your games, Matthews.”

“Games?” He raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “I’m just trying to study. Isn’t that what the library’s for?”

“Studying?” I scoffed before I could stop myself. “Right. Is that what you’re calling it now?”

His grin widened, and I immediately regretted giving him the opening. “Wow. Didn’t know you cared so much about my academic habits. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were worried about me.”

My jaw clenched. “Trust me, the last thing I’m worried about is you.”

“Then why are you still standing here?” He tilted his head slightly, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement.

Because you’re an infuriating distraction, I thought, even as my pulse quickened in a way I refused to acknowledge. Instead, I set my bag down with a decisive thud and slid into the seat across from him, refusing to back down.

His eyebrows rose slightly, but the smirk never faltered. “Well, this is cozy.”

I ignored him, spreading my notes across the table with the precision of someone trying to reclaim her territory.

For the next twenty minutes, I tried to focus, but it was nearly impossible with him sitting there. The faint scratch of his pencil against paper. The occasional low hum of concentration. The creak of his chair every time he shifted. Every sound he made felt amplified, like a deliberate attempt to get under my skin.

Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. I slammed my pen down, the sound echoing louder than I’d intended in the hushed library.

Jace looked up, his eyes alight with mischief. “Something wrong?”

“Do you always have to be so—” I waved a hand vaguely in his direction, searching for the right word.

“Charming? Handsome? Intelligent?” he supplied, ticking each word off on his fingers.

“Obnoxious,” I snapped. “That was the word I was looking for.”

He laughed, a low, warm sound that I hated how much I noticed. “Lighten up, Carter. Life’s too short to be this uptight.”

I opened my mouth to retort, but the librarian’s sharp glare from across the room stopped me. Clamping my jaw shut, I shot Jace one last withering look and turned back to my notes.

For the next hour, I forced myself to concentrate, breathing in the scent of coffee and old paper, willing myself to tune him out. It almost worked—until I noticed a flicker of movement out of the corner of my eye.

Jace was frowning slightly at his book, his pen hovering above the page as if he couldn’t quite find the right words. The smirk was gone, replaced by an expression so focused, so unguarded, that it caught me off guard. It wasn’t the Jace Matthews I’d come to expect.

A strange pang of curiosity tugged at me. What could possibly make someone like him look so... serious? But before I could process the thought, he looked up and caught me staring.

The smirk returned instantly, like a shield snapping into place. “Till next time, Carter,” he said, his tone light but his gaze lingering just a moment too long.

I hurriedly gathered my things, my cheeks burning, and stepped into the crisp evening air. The cold bit at my skin, but I barely noticed. My mind was still spinning, caught between irritation and something I didn’t want to name.

Jace Matthews was nothing more than an irritating distraction.

So why couldn’t I stop noticing him?