Chapter 3

While she talked, her fingers lazily played with the fluffy ears of Mr. Whiskers, handling it like it was some kind of rare gem.

"Don't sweat it," she added, flashing a smile so sweet it could rot teeth, "I'm totally in love with this doll. Gonna take super good care of it. Probably cuddle it every night."

On the other end, Zachary went stock-still for a second. Then, he slowly turned, his deep, intense eyes pinning her through the screen, like he was trying to pull her straight into his soul. Something hot and messy flickered in his gaze.

His inner thoughts spilled out: [She… she said she'd take care of… her doll.]

[Every night… cuddling it…]

[Daisy-boo, you're playing with fire, girl.]

Daisy's smirk grew, smug and a little sly. You were toast, Zachary. No way you were slipping outta this one.

She slept like a champ that night.

When Daisy woke up, she felt like she could take on the world. The plushie in her arms was still soft as a dream.

She gave its ears a playful pinch, imagining Zachary somewhere, maybe scratching his own ear with a confused scowl. Her lips twitched into a sneaky grin.

Juliette Marlowe, her roommate, leaned over from the top bunk, yawning like a bear. "Hey, Daisy, why're you so perky? Hit the jackpot or what?"

"Better than that," Daisy shot back, sitting up with the plushie still in her grip, her heart doing a happy little skip.

After freshening up, they headed to the cafeteria.

The second they stepped into the buzzing dining hall, a familiar voice—tinged with a bit of a sulk—slipped into Daisy's ears.

[When's Daisy-boo gonna let me call her Daisy-boo to her face.]

[Man, I'd give anything to just sit next to her and eat.]

Daisy's step hitched as she glanced toward the voice.

There, by the window, sat Zachary, morning light giving him a soft golden glow. His sharp jaw and cool, detached vibe made him look like he didn't give a damn about anything around him.

Then their eyes locked. For a split second, their gazes tangled, and he gave her a polite nod—friendly, but with that let's-keep-it-casual distance.

Daisy rolled her eyes in her head. Oh, keep playing it smooth, buddy. You were basically an A-list actor at this point.

She shrugged it off, grabbed Juliette, and hustled to a table as far from Zachary as she could manage.

His inner voice floated over, all gloomy: [She's gone… won't even give me a second look.]

But then, like he'd flipped a switch, it turned gutsy: [No way. I'm eating with Daisy-boo today. Time for a "whoops, fancy meeting you here" moment!]

Daisy nearly snorted. Dude, your mood swings were giving me whiplash.

Sure enough, a couple minutes after she and Juliette grabbed their trays and sat down, Zachary strolled over, plate in hand.

He stopped by the empty seat next to Daisy, staring out the window like he was going for effortlessly chill. "Hey, this seat free?" he asked, voice flat as day-old soda.

Juliette flicked her eyes from him to Daisy—who was playing it cool as ice—and grinned like a troublemaker. "Nah, it's all yours. Gotta say, the air's just vibing over here, right?"

Zachary slid into the seat, setting his tray down like it might break. He didn't look at Daisy, just kept his eyes down, his jaw a little tense.

But his thoughts? Crystal clear: [Daisy-boo doesn't seem pumped I'm here. Does she legit hate my guts?]

Daisy shoveled pasta into her mouth, fighting a laugh so hard her shoulders gave a tiny shake.

Before she could soak up the moment, a loud voice cut through. "Hi, Zachary! Why're you hiding out in this corner?" Ryan Foster plopped down across from Zachary, his tray clattering like a cymbal.

He squinted at his friend's pale face. "Dude, you look like you got hit by a truck. What's up? Another night of no sleep?"