"Are you sure you're okay staying here? Alone? You can live with me; the mansion's big enough for both of us."
His voice was soft but laced with concern, and I couldn't help but smile. Ever since he found me—after our aunt decided I wasn't her responsibility—he hadn't stopped asking what I wanted. Every decision, every little thing... he made sure I had a choice. It was overwhelming at first, being cared for like that. It still is, sometimes.
But when I told him I wanted my own place, he didn't fight me on it—just showed up every other day like some overprotective hawk in disguise. Not that I mind. It's comforting, knowing someone cares enough to worry.
Tomorrow, I start college. New life, new chapter... and apparently, the same school he goes to. Figures he'd find another excuse to keep watch. Part of me rolls my eyes at his hovering, but honestly? I like it. Having someone look out for me—it's something I never knew I needed until he offered it so freely.
"Damon," I sighed, tilting my head. "You don't have to treat me like I'm still that same kid. I can handle being alone."
What I didn't say was besides, I don't want to be a burden. Damon had already carried enough weight for the both of us. If anything, I wanted to ease some of that load, not add to it.
"Fine. Just tell me if you need anything, okay?" His gaze softened, lips pressing into a thin line before he relented.
"Sure—oh! Wait!" He had turned toward the door, but I darted forward, catching up to him. Without thinking, I threw my arms around him. His body stiffened in surprise before relaxing. Warm. Familiar. Safe. Honestly, I was buttering him up. I knew he wouldn't say no.
"What is it?" He chuckled.
"The guy with the blue hair—the one who picked us up at the airport..." His brow shot up. Ah. He already had an idea where this was going, which only made me grin wider.
"I... kinda like him."
There it was—out in the open. My heart thumped, nerves bubbling beneath my grin. His expression was unreadable for a beat too long, and I braced myself for whatever lecture or teasing would come next.
"You just met him last week, and you already like him?" Damon groaned, running a hand through his hair like he couldn't believe what he was hearing. I rolled my eyes, undeterred.
"Oh, c'mon, Damon! I just want you to introduce me. He's your friend, and since I'll be hanging out with you from lunch until after class, we should at least get to know each other." His frown deepened, clearly unimpressed with my logic.
"He's Meast Trigon Schneider," he muttered, like the name alone should scare me off. "And he already likes someone."
The words hit like a splash of cold water, deflating me for a heartbeat. Someone else? Great. But... they weren't married yet. That meant there was still a chance.
I straightened, flashing a grin. "Okay! Thank you, Damon!" I chirped, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing me sulk. Spinning on my heel, I turned away before he could lecture me further.
Meast, huh? Just wait—I'm going to make you mine.
I am Divecca Marianne Rushwood Dankworth—Damon Lucifer Dankworth's only sister. Though, back in the US, most people know me as Dimaria Rushwood. No idea why that version of my name stuck when I started modeling, but it did. Not that it matters now.
When Damon found me... I chose him. Chose this—to leave that world behind and finish my studies here, where things feel a little more real. A little more me.
The next morning, I woke up early, buzzing with excitement. My feet practically bounced off the floor as I hummed some random tune, the melody echoing in the bathroom as warm water cascaded over me. Today... I get to see Blue again.
Yeah, Blue. That's what I've been calling Meast in my head. There's something about him—something magnetic that pulls me in without warning. Sure, he's older. They're my seniors. Big deal. Age gaps don't bother me. Liking him? That's what really surprises me. It's rare for me to crush on anyone, yet here I am, acting like some lovestruck teenager. Pathetic... or adorable? I'll go with adorable.
After my shower, I pulled on my clothes, combing through my short hair. I've never let it grow long. I don't even know why—it's just... the idea of growing it out freaks me out. I once joked to myself that I'd only grow it if I ever got my heart broken. Ironic, huh? Most girls chop theirs off when they're hurting. Me? Apparently, I'd do the opposite. Not that I'm planning to get hurt, no thanks.
Keys jingling in hand, I slipped into the driver's seat of the sleek car Damon gifted me. Spoiled? Absolutely. But I'm not complaining. Damon's always been that way—Frose, too. Our cousin, adopted by Damon after tragedy tore through his life... They're all I've got. And honestly? I wouldn't trade them for the world.
By lunchtime, my brain had drifted into another dimension. Classes blurred together; my mind stuck on someone whose hair should be illegal. I didn't even bother mingling—I had one mission. . . Find Damon. Find Meast. Both 4th-year architecture students. Damon's just a bit older, thanks to homeschooling and... well, some serious stuff that forced him to take a break back in high school. He never really talks about it, and I don't push.
Navigating the campus halls, I finally spotted them near the architecture department—tall figures effortlessly commanding attention. Giggles floated through the air like confetti, girls practically swooning in their presence. Can't blame them. Damon and Meast together? That's visual overload. Movie-star looks, effortless charm... heartthrobs, the both of them.
And sure—if Damon weren't my brother, maybe I'd understand the hype more, but ew. Gross. No thanks. I value my sanity. My gaze, unapologetically, glued itself to Meast. God, that blue hair of his is illegal. Panty-dropper, I thought, biting back a grin. Get a grip, Divecca.
But honestly? How am I supposed to keep my cool when he looks like that?
I greeted them with a bright smile—partly out of excitement, partly to annoy the group of girls eyeing them like predators stalking prey. Yeah, keep staring. I'm the one standing with them.
Meast glanced my way... and smiled. A small, barely-there curve of his lips, but my heart went rogue, pounding like it was trying to escape my chest. Instinctively, I tugged at the waistband of my underwear—it suddenly felt like it was about to slip off. Seriously? Pull yourself together!
Did he really smile at me? Me?
"Damon! M-Meast!" I stammered, catching up to them. "I'm glad I found you guys!"
Damon's eyebrows shot up, clearly amused. Great. Laugh it up, big brother.
"Meast," Damon said, tilting his head toward me, "remember my sister, Dimaria? She's tagging along with us. That cool with you?" Meast's gaze flicked to me again.
"Yeah, bud," he replied easily.
Oh my god. I nearly combusted on the spot. He doesn't mind! He's okay with me being here! Could he possibly like me too? No—calm down, Dimaria. Don't get ahead of yourself. Play it cool. Cool as ice... ice melting under his gaze—stop it!
I walked with them, happiness bubbling in my chest as I stole glances at Meast. Honestly, I wouldn't have looked away if fate—or my own clumsiness—hadn't intervened.
Thud!
"Oh my gosh!" I stumbled back, blinking up at what felt like a brick wall disguised as a human.
"I'm so sorry!"
Ahead of me, Damon and Meast kept walking, deep in conversation and completely oblivious to my impromptu collision. Gee, thanks for the backup, guys. Glad to know you've got my back... or not.
I looked at the person I'd bumped into—and yikes. Tall. Broad shoulders. Serious to the point of being intimidating. His sharp gaze swept over me, cool and dismissive, like I was some annoying bug he couldn't be bothered to swat. As if to make it worse, he brushed off his uniform like I'd contaminated him. Ouch.
I caught a flash of his ID. Engineering student. Of course. The way he carried himself—rigid, precise—screamed "no-nonsense." He looked around Damon's age, which should've been my first red flag. My brother attracts intense people like moths to a very broody flame.
"Sorry..." I mumbled again, a little less apologetic this time. His response? Nothing. Not even a grunt. Just a turn of his shoes and a quick getaway like I wasn't worth a second glance. Wow. Rude.
I stood there a second longer, watching him walk off, brows knitting together. What's his deal? There was something about him... something unsettling that tugged at the edge of my thoughts. Like I should recognize that kind of coldness. Or maybe I was just reading too much into a random bump.
Whatever. I shook the lingering weirdness off and hurried after Damon and Meast. They'd finally noticed I was missing—about time. Both glanced back at me. Damon's raised eyebrow said, what took you so long?
I huffed, catching up. Just ran into the campus grump. Literally.
"What's that?" Damon asked, glancing at me.
"Ah, I bumped into someone," I answered casually, flashing a smile. Damon shrugged and returned to chatting with Meast like it was nothing. Great talk, big brother.
When we reached the cafeteria, Meast volunteered to order our food. What a gentleman. I watched him walk off, and before I knew it—
"You're staring at him like you're about to devour him," Damon deadpanned, an amused smirk tugging at his lips. "You like my friend that much?"
I shot him a glare. "And so what? He's cool and interesting, okay? His blue hair, his whole attitude—I just want to know more abo—"
My words trailed off as the cafeteria buzz shifted, attention pulling toward the entrance. Instinctively, my gaze followed—and there he was.
The same guy I'd bumped into earlier. His uniform was barely holding onto the concept of "dress code"—top three buttons undone, sleeves casually rolled, hands stuffed into his pockets like he owned the place. Beside him strolled a tall, stunning girl who looked like she'd stepped off a runway. Two other guys flanked them, each with equally gorgeous girls in tow.
And just like that, the girls who had been swooning over Damon and Meast redirected their laser focus toward him. Especially him. The air shifted, as if he dragged gravity with him, pulling everyone's attention without even trying.
Who is that guy?
Our eyes met. Brief. Sharp. He furrowed his brows—again—before looking away, completely indifferent. Rude. Consistent, but rude.
"Who are you staring at?" Damon's voice snapped me back.
I grinned, not bothering to hide my amusement. "Just saw the guy I bumped into earlier. He's kind of like you—grumpy and cold."
Damon's frown deepened. "That's Hunter Martinez," he muttered, tone dropping. "And don't compare me to him."
Hunter Martinez. The name rolled around in my mind. Had a ring to it—trouble wrapped in leather and bad decisions.
"So, you know him?!" I blurted, maybe a tad too loud. A few heads turned our way, curiosity sparking. Damon pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Of course I do," he grumbled. "He's my toughest rival here. And I really don't like hearing my name next to his."
Rival? Oh, this just got interesting.
I let Damon's rivalry comment slide and glanced toward Meast. He briefly looked over, and when our eyes met, I offered him a bright smile. Please smile back—just this once.
And he did. Not a scowl or a dismissive glance—he nodded. My heart skipped. Victory!
But just as quickly as my happiness bloomed, it withered.
A girl appeared beside him, slipping seamlessly into his personal space. Her arms looped around his, her head resting on his shoulder like it was her rightful place. And then—oh, come on!—he kissed her cheek.
Seriously?
My mood crashed. The spark of hope I'd been nursing fizzled out. Who the heck is she?
Like the universe wanted to rub salt in the wound, the girl took the seat between me and Meast at the table—strategically blocking me from sitting next to him. Ugh!
"Is she your sister, Dame?" the girl asked, her voice sweet enough to rot teeth. I mentally grimaced. Sure, Damon and I shared features, but you had to look past the surface to really notice.
"Yeah, she's Dimaria. Dimmy, this is Meast's special someone, Valierie," Damon introduced.
Special someone. The words echoed in my mind, sinking heavy in my chest. I glanced at her—tall, poised, undeniably gorgeous. Her elegance was effortless. Of course she looks like a model. Not that I wasn't one, but something about her screamed his type.
But why her?
Still, I managed to stretch my lips into a smile—fake but passable—and joined the conversation, even if every fiber of me wanted to roll my eyes into another dimension.
Eventually, Val excused herself to the washroom, and Damon stepped away to answer a call, leaving me alone with Meast.
I sipped my juice, watching him eat. God, even the way he chews is attractive. Resting my chin on my hand, I smiled. "You really like Val?"
He paused mid-chew, glanced at me, and replied, "Yeah."
Ouch. Right in the pride.
"How? I mean... why her?" The words slipped out before I could reel them back. Smooth, Dimaria. Real subtle.
Meast shrugged. "Why not her?"
Good point. Terrible for my heart, but good point. I cleared my throat and looked away, heat creeping up my neck. From the corner of my eye, I noticed him studying me. Then—he sighed, shaking his head. What's that supposed to mean?
Before I could overthink further, Val and Damon returned. We finished eating, and soon they left for their one o'clock class.
I headed toward my building, but halfway there—nature called. Perfect timing. I rushed to the nearest common restroom, slipped into a stall, and let out a relieved breath as I sat down.
But then—Wait.
Something felt... off.
A faint sound echoed. Muffled at first—then unmistakable. A moan. Loud. Unapologetic.
Goosebumps pricked my skin. Oh, you've got to be kidding me.
I hurried, finishing up and adjusting my clothes as quickly as possible. I washed my hands, trying to pretend I hadn't just heard that. Grabbing a tissue, I reached for the door—
Click.
The neighboring stall opened. A girl stepped out—definitely from my department. Her hair was flawless, uniform neat, lips freshly glossed. She glanced at me without shame, smoothed her skirt, and walked out like nothing happened.
What even—
I turned back to the mirror—and froze.
Hunter Martinez.
Leaning casually against the sink, arms crossed, his reflection locked eyes with mine. His gaze—sharp, unreadable—pinned me in place.
Something stirred in my chest—unfamiliar and unsettling. His sterling almond-gray eyes held me captive, thick brows framing a face that was all sharp angles and effortless arrogance. That aristocratic nose, those well-defined features—Western-like and unfairly attractive.
Breathe, Dimaria. Breathe.
I swallowed hard, fingers tightening around the tissue. Why is he looking at me like that?! My pulse drummed in my ears.
"I—I'm sorry again," I stammered, voice barely above a whisper. "For earlier... and, um, now."
He didn't move. Didn't blink. Just kept watching me—like I was a puzzle piece that didn't fit the picture. Blank. Detached. Infuriating.
I tossed the tissue into the bin, glancing at his ID hanging around his neck: Hunter Daxton Martinez, Civil Engineering Student.
Then—he spoke.
"Why are you with Damon Dankworth?"
The question threw me. Why does he care?
"I'm his younger sister," I said cautiously. "Why?"
A slow, mischievous grin stretched across his face—infuriatingly smug. What is with this guy?!
Without answering, he turned toward the door. But just as he reached it, he paused. Glancing back, his gaze flicked to me once more.
"Pretend you didn't hear anything," he said. A beat. Then—"Apology accepted... Divecca."
He slipped out, door swinging shut behind him.
Wait.
Divecca?
My breath hitched. How does he know my name?
I glanced down at myself. No visible ID. Mine wasn't even issued yet—it wasn't coming until next week.
So how...?
A chill crept up my spine. What is going on?
. . .
