Chapter 1: The Slap That Wasn’t

Just as I was about to pull some classic mean-girl moves on the shy little wallflower, her brother crashed the scene—bam, just like that.

My hand, raised in a dramatic flourish, landed against her cheek—but not with a slap. Instead, it was barely more than a gentle tap, almost a caress. The softness of it surprised even me, and for a split second, I wondered if Marissa would notice the difference.

I turned on the honey: “Hey, little sis, I’m your future sister-in-law.” My voice was all sugary sweet, drawing out the words in a teasing lilt as I waggled my brows at her.

“Help me win your brother over, and you can have my credit card next time you want to go wild at the mall. No limit, promise.” I winked, letting my tone drip with playful bribery.

Seriously, if I’d known her brother looked like that, why would I have wasted all those years chasing after my so-called childhood crush? What a joke.

Here’s the thing: I’m a rich, gorgeous heiress. The guy next door—my supposed fiancé—dumped me for the shy little wallflower. When I found out, jealousy set my insides on fire. So, I lured her into a quiet corner on campus, ready to confront her. What else could I do? Just as I raised my hand, I spotted someone sprinting toward us across the quad.

The late-afternoon sun sliced through the maples, making the whole lawn shimmer gold. The breeze tugged at my hair. I blinked—and there he was, barreling straight for us, sneakers pounding the sidewalk, his shadow stretching long across the grass.

Suddenly, a guy’s face filled my view. At the exact same moment, a sharp pain stabbed through my head. My mind exploded with memories, all colliding at once.

A dimly lit room. Sheets tangled around bare skin. The air thick with heat and the faint glow of a lamp flickering on the wall.

A rush of R-rated memories flashed before my eyes—his face in every one, matching the boy running toward us now, crystal clear and undeniable.

My hand froze midair, then, almost on autopilot, drifted down and landed softly on Marissa’s cheek. Déjà vu washed over me, leaving me momentarily disoriented. Was I really doing this again?

Marissa had been bracing for a slap, her whole body tense and her eyes squeezed shut. When nothing happened, she cracked one eye open, confusion flashing across her face before she glared at me, stubborn and angry.

“Savannah, if you hit me, I’m calling the cops! Maybe other people are scared of your family’s money, but I’m not!” Her voice wobbled, but she stuck out her chin and balled her fists at her sides. Gutsy—more than I’d given her credit for.

My fierce scowl melted into a soft, watery smile. I stroked Marissa’s cheek, letting my fingers linger as I grinned. “Honestly, this is all a big misunderstanding.”

“Little sis, I’m your future sister-in-law,” I added, this time with a wink and a teasing nudge.

“I’d rather kiss you than hit you. Come on, why would I do something so mean?” I pouted, trying to sound as innocent as possible.

I tossed a look over my shoulder and told the two girls holding Marissa, "You two can let go. Seriously, you’re good—go."

They exchanged a look, shrugged, and drifted off, one of them shooting me a side-eye like I’d just started speaking in tongues.

Marissa just gawked at me, totally lost. “What are you even talking about?”

I gave her my best earnest look, leaning in. "I like your brother. The only reason I stopped you here was so I could see him."

“Hey! Let go of my sister!”

Marcus stormed up and grabbed me, yanking me away from Marissa. I stumbled, somehow landing right in his arms, my hands instinctively wrapping around his waist—he was solid, and my face was suddenly way too close to his chest.

He was clearly caught off guard, his voice sharp: “Let go!”

But I just clung tighter, pressing up against him with a sweet, shameless smile. “I’ll let her go, but I’m not letting you go.”

Marcus’s ears went pink, and he looked away, flustered. Then he shoved me off so hard I landed on my butt with an ungraceful thump. Ow. That was definitely going to leave a mark.

He shot his sister a worried look. “You okay?”

Marissa still looked dazed, blinking like she was trying to process a pop quiz in a language she didn’t speak.

“I’m… I’m fine. This was probably all a misunderstanding.”

She rubbed her cheek, squinting at me like I’d just sprouted antlers.

I clutched my leg, putting on my best pitiful face, and whimpered, squeezing out a couple of fake tears as I looked up at Marcus. “It really hurts.”

I tried to stand, but immediately crumpled again, letting out a dramatic groan. Ugh, Oscar-worthy.

Marcus’s face was pure stone. After a moment, he crouched down and turned his back to me, voice gruff but not unkind. "Come on. I’ll carry you to the health center."

He waited, steady and patient, as I awkwardly scrambled onto his back.

I made a show of climbing onto his back, arms wrapped around his neck, face buried in the warm spot between his shoulder and jaw. Secretly, I breathed in his scent—fresh laundry, soap, and something sharp and green, like pine after rain. I closed my eyes for a second, savoring it.

Marissa, still standing nearby, just stared, her mouth open in total disbelief. I could practically see the question marks floating above her head.

I grinned and pressed a finger to my lips, shooting her a playful shush and a sly wink.

At nineteen, Marcus was all quiet confidence—top of his class, polite, gentle, like some storybook gentleman. But I knew better. Underneath, he had a dark, obsessive streak, something nobody else ever saw.

He carried me in silence, Marissa trailing behind, clearly torn between wanting to say something and not knowing where to start.

I watched Marcus’s profile, memories swirling and tangling in my mind, leaving my chest tight and my throat thick. Without thinking, I pressed my lips to the skin just behind his ear, a soft, impulsive kiss.

He froze. Then, with a sudden jerk, he dropped me to the ground, face blazing with fury. “What the hell are you doing?!”

I shot up to my feet on reflex—totally forgetting I’d just claimed my leg was hurt. Oops. Nice going, Savannah.

Marcus’s gaze snapped to my perfectly fine leg, his eyes narrowing. “So, lying to people is your idea of fun? Or do you just get a kick out of messing with me?”

Yikes. Crap. He’s really pissed this time.

I hurried over, hands up in surrender, trying to smooth things over. "I’m sorry, I messed up. Please don’t be mad."

But then, as Marcus stared at me, stunned, I went up on tiptoe and kissed him right on the lips.

He shoved me away, his face going red all the way to his hairline. “Are you out of your mind?!”

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, glaring at me like I’d just set off fireworks in the hallway.

I plopped onto the floor, pouting hard. “I was apologizing!”

He shot back, “Who taught you to apologize like that?!”

Duh. Obviously, it was future Marcus! If only he knew.