The first time I saw James, he was leaning against his black Mustang, sunlight glinting off his smirk like he already knew how this would end.\n\nI gripped the strap of my backpack tighter, heels clicking on the cobblestone path of St. Mary’s High. My new school. My new life. My new stepbrother.\n\n“Lost, transfer student?” he called, pushing off the car with lazy grace.\n\n“I know exactly where I’m going,” I shot back, refusing to flinch under his icy gaze.\n\nHis smile turned razor-sharp. “Then you won’t mind that your dorm room used to be mine. Dad let me keep the key.”\n\nMy stomach dropped. This wasn’t just awkward—it was war.\n\nAnd then he tossed the key. Not to me. Into the fountain at the center of the courtyard.\n\nRain began to fall, slicking his dark hair to his forehead. He didn’t move. Just stared.\n\nI had three choices: walk away and let him win, dive into the freezing water after the key, or call his bluff and demand he hand over a spare.