Chapter 1 — Reunion of Rivals

Bailey

The first box hit the ground with a solid thud, and I immediately regretted packing all thirteen pairs of sneakers I owned. Who could blame me, though? Shoes were versatile—they carried you through the best and worst of life, and if I was going to embark on this new chapter, I’d need the right arsenal.

The dorm hallway smelled faintly of stale pizza and late-night takeout, like decades of uncertainty baked into the walls. The clamor of move-in day echoed around me: the scrape of furniture, bursts of laughter, and the occasional bang of something heavy being dropped. Casey flounced ahead of me, somehow balancing a potted fern in one hand and her kaleidoscope scarf in the other. She was practically glowing with excitement, as if the chaos of it all were her personal playground.

“Bailey, hurry up! You’re going to love this room. Tons of natural light, and guess what? It’s right down the hall from me,” Casey called over her shoulder, her voice laced with that maddening optimism of hers.

“That’s great, Case,” I said, dragging another ridiculously heavy box toward my new door. “Do you think the natural light will make me forget my crippling student debt?”

“You are such a ray of sunshine,” she teased, rolling her eyes. “Seriously, though. This is going to be good for you. A fresh start!”

I snorted. “Fresh start implies I want to forget the old stuff. I’m more into dragging my emotional baggage around like this box of shoes.”

Casey shook her head with a laugh, but her smile stayed firmly in place. That was Casey Kirk for you—the eternal optimist. She was practically skipping as she unlocked the door to my corner of our shared floor, pushing it open with her hip.

I stepped inside, letting my gaze sweep over the basics: pale walls, a twin bed with a lumpy-looking mattress, a desk that had clearly seen better days, and a window overlooking the Courtyard. The sight of the Courtyard, framed by fiery autumn leaves, tugged at something in my chest—a mix of nostalgia and unease that I didn’t want to examine too closely. The oak trees arched like sentinels over the cobblestone paths, their branches heavy with red and gold. A group of students sprawled across the grass, the hum of conversation drifting faintly through the slightly cracked window. It was picture-perfect, if you ignored the restlessness stirring in my gut.

“It’s cute,” I admitted grudgingly. “Cozy.”

“You’re welcome!” Casey sang, gesturing like she’d just unveiled a masterpiece. “Now, you unpack while I—”

Her words were cut off by the sound of heavy footfalls in the hallway. My stomach sank, the kind of sinking you get when the universe decides to play a cruel joke at your expense. Familiar. Unwelcome. It was the same sinking I used to feel in high school, just before a test I hadn’t studied for or when I spotted him across a crowded room. And I knew better than to ignore it.

“Casey! You’re not going to believe this,” a voice called out, smooth and familiar, dredging up memories I’d spent four years trying to bury. Late-night adventures in the Kirk backyard. Warm summer evenings full of laughter. And then sharp, stinging words that cut me like glass.

Rayleb Kirk.

I froze in place, gripping the edge of the box like it was a life raft. Casey’s hazel eyes widened in recognition as she glanced between me and the doorway like she’d just witnessed a car crash in slow motion. “Oh no,” she whispered.

“Oh yes,” I muttered under my breath, a sharp edge already creeping into my tone.

And then there he was, leaning casually against the doorframe with the same infuriating air of effortless cool that had once been his trademark. Tall, broad-shouldered, with his perpetually messy dark hair and those piercing gray-blue eyes that could pin you in place if you weren’t careful. He looked the same but different—older, sharper. Dangerous, in the way that memories can be when they sneak up on you.

“Well, well,” he drawled, his voice calm but laced with something sharp. “If it isn’t Bailey Carmen. This floor just got a whole lot noisier.”

The audacity of this man.

I clenched my jaw, forcing my expression into something resembling neutrality. “And it’s nice to see you’ve upgraded from petty insults to… what, casual arrogance? Very original.”

Casey, bless her optimistic heart, tried to step into the tension like it wasn’t crackling around us. “I—uh—didn’t realize you two were living on the same floor.”

“Neither did I,” I said flatly, crossing my arms.

Rayleb’s smirk deepened, and I wanted to throw one of my sneakers at him. Maybe my heaviest pair. “Don’t worry, Carmen. I’ll make sure to keep my distance. Wouldn’t want you to feel threatened by my superior taste in music and, well, everything else.”

“You don’t have superior taste in anything, Kirk. Unless we’re ranking egos.”

“Still keeping track of me, huh? Obsessed much?”

“You wish.”

Casey let out a high-pitched laugh, her hands fidgeting with her scarf. “Okay! So, this is awkward. But hey, look on the bright side—at least you two won’t get bored!”

I shot her a glare. “I’d rather get a root canal than endure this.”

Rayleb pushed off the doorframe, his gaze lingering on me for a beat too long before he turned and stepped back into the hallway. “Welcome to college, Carmen. Try not to set anything on fire.”

And with that, he walked away, leaving a trail of tension in his wake. I stood there, staring at the empty doorway like it might combust.

Casey shifted awkwardly beside me. “Well… that was… something. He’s not—”

“Don’t,” I cut her off, my voice sharp. “Let’s not make this a thing, okay? We’re here for fun and independence and all that. Not for… whatever that was.”

Casey hesitated, her fingers trailing nervously along the edge of her scarf. “Okay. But if you ever want to talk about—”

“I won’t.”

She sighed, but her usual cheer quickly returned. “Fine! Be the emotionally repressed hermit you’ve always been. Just know I’m here when you inevitably crack.”

“Thanks, Case,” I said dryly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a box of sneakers to unpack and an ex-friend-turned-nemesis to ignore.”

Casey’s laugh seemed to ease the tension, at least a little, and she left with a cheerful wave. Once the door clicked shut, I let myself flop onto the twin bed, staring at the ceiling. The Courtyard outside my window was breathtaking, its autumn colors glowing in the soft light, but it felt like a cruel contrast to the mess in my head.

I reached for my worn leather journal, the feel of its weathered cover grounding me. My fingers brushed the faded photo tucked into its back pocket—a childhood snapshot of me, Casey, and Rayleb grinning like idiots in his backyard. A moment frozen in time, untouched by everything that came after. I hesitated, then flipped the journal shut without writing a word.

This wasn’t over.

Not by a long shot.