Chapter 6:

Flashback: Lusty Library Fantasy

That night, I popped a sacrificial chocolate that fell onto the kitchen floor into my mouth. 

I was a firm believer in the five-second rule. 

Maybe it was the chocolate. Or maybe it was the way El drifted around the kitchen. Either way, my mind slipped back—five years ago…

Five years earlier

Coronado Prep

My first high school biology exam score was one grade lower than expected—thanks to a failed experiment: studying in the Coronado Prep girls’ dorm. 

Surrounded by high school girls whose family legacies left little incentive for serious exam prep, I hadn’t stood a chance.

“00:47,” read my watch. Military time. I thought it might trick me into feeling more serious. Spoiler: it didn’t.

With about ten hours left until the exam, I quietly slipped through the carved wooden doors of Coronado Prep’s only 24-hour library.

The thud of my backpack hitting the table went unnoticed—well, almost unnoticed. 

At this witching hour, there was only one other student in the vast room, the tables aligned like battleships ready to engage as the night dragged on.

Reading my biology textbook was like downing melatonin with warm milk while counting sheep. 

In what felt like a blink, my eyes shut, and my head drooped onto the solid, chipped 19th-century mahogany table—

books scattered like a murmuration of starlings.

Forty minutes passed before I peeled my cheek off the table, the imprint of my hands still visible on my skin as I groggily sat up, blinking hard to shake the sleep.

“Good morning.”

The voice made me look up from my notes—and nearly choke on my own breath. 

Across the table sat a dark-haired guy who looked like he’d been photoshopped into real life. 

Golden eyes. 

Perfect jawline. 

The entire Harlequin book cover package.

And he was staring at me like I’d just woken up from the best nap in history.

I blinked once. 

Twice. 

Great. Either I’d finally cracked under exam stress, or my overactive imagination had conjured up a lusty library fantasy.

Spoiler: fantasies weren’t supposed to smirk back.

“Did you dream about cellular organelles?” he asked with a smile, his hands wrapped around a Biology 101 textbook—my textbook, labeled with my name on the front.

Startled, I blinked in surprise before flashing a sheepish grin, smoothing out the dents on my face 

“It was a hot fantasy about mitochondrial function,” I joked, though my voice betrayed me when his smile widened—

dangerously slow, like he’d mapped out how to undo me, inch by inch, until my entire body trembled.

“I’m Parker. I’m in your biology class,” he said, glancing at my book.

“I’m Prin. So, Parker, are you holding my book for ransom?” I asked, my tone teasing while I bit my bottom lip. 

If he hadn’t been so damn handsome, I might’ve actually been mad. “The black market value on that thing wouldn’t even cover a cafeteria burger.”

He laughed, a deep, resonant sound that echoed in the empty hall. “If I pawned this book, buying a burger would be the last thing I’d do. There’s probably more E. Coli on one of those burgers than in the microbiology lab’s petri dishes.” 

His face lit up, and I found myself drawn to it, my eyes tracing every curve of his mouth.

He glanced down at the zoology book in front of him. “Sorry, I grabbed the wrong book off my shelf and couldn’t face a twenty-minute walk back to my room.”

My eyes drifted to the Harvard logo on his sweatshirt, his perfect musculature peeking out from underneath. 

A legacy boy, huh? 

Probably forced into biology.

 “I take it the sound of video game artillery isn’t exactly conducive to last-minute cramming on human cell architecture?”

“Yeah, my grades are teetering on the edge of the bell curve, so I came here to hide,” he said with a disarming smile that made me catch my breath. “But then I realized I forgot my biology book. Maybe we could study together?” 

His voice was hopeful, his expression inviting. 

I wanted to say yes, but I needed to focus.

“Same here, Parker. That’s why I have a personal rule: no studying with anyone.”

“I’d be offended if that wasn’t my rule too,” he said, laughing. “My dad’s the Dean of Pritzker med school, so you can imagine what family dinners are like.” 

Pritzker was the elite college on the other side of town, where only six students from Coronado Prep were admitted each year. 

As the son of faculty, he was a shoo-in. 

So why was he even here studying?

“Wait—Dean Seijo is your dad? Please tell me what those dinners are like. Did you have to calculate insulin levels after dessert?”

He chuckled. “Ha, not quite. But let’s just say there are no subtle hints about my GPA. No low-key questions about whether I’ve mastered ‘Cell Structure and Function.’ It’s all just assumed. The pressure’s always there.” 

His gaze met mine, and I was surprised by how honest he was. 

I’d never considered that legacy kids faced the same kind of stress I did.

“I get that. The Coronado Prep scholarship board hangs the same expectations over my head, which is why I’m hiding in the library too. Our dorm is like an estrogen zoo…and the hallway reeks of gel manicure polish.”

“Yeah, most Coronado girls are all looks and no charm. You, however, clearly have both.”

“Well, aren’t you the smooth talker,” I teased again, pinching my fingers underneath the table to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. “Saying whatever you can to get your hands on my biology textbook?”

He laughed again, the sound bouncing off the towering wooden shelves. “Tell you what, since we’re both breaking our own rules, let’s make a wager. Whoever scores lower on the exam has to buy the other an E. Coli-infested cafeteria burger,” he said, leaning closer, his eyes glinting like it was less about food and more about his breath against my cheek.

I took a shaky inhale, praying my pulse wouldn’t give me away. 

“Lucky for you, Parker, I’m a gambler. So…” I leaned back in my chair with mock-nonchalance. “What page were you on before you leaned over and shattered my beauty sleep?”

The word leaned snagged in my throat, hot and heavy with the memory of just how close he’d been. 

Close enough that his breath brushed mine.

Close enough that I was starving for a repeat performance.

He raised a brow, lips twitching like he knew exactly what game I was playing.

But he wasn’t the only one holding cards—he wasn’t even the one with the winning hand.

At least, not yet.

I let my smile curve slow and dangerous, the kind that said try me. 

If Parker wanted to bet, fine.

But he was about to learn—I was a seasoned gambler.

And I never fold..

***

Was this the perfect meet-cute or what? 

XOXO, Sabina