Hailey was late. Again.

Sunlight spilled through the arched windows of Halberton University's east hall, catching the gold in her curls as she sauntered down the corridor, utterly unbothered. Her heels clicked against the polished floors with deliberate rhythm—slow, confident, unapologetic.

She didn’t rush. Rushing was for people who cared.

By the time she pushed open the door to Professor Harrow’s lecture hall, the room had already settled into the drone of academic discussion. Heads turned. Some with disapproval, some with curiosity. Hailey gave them nothing—not even a glance. Just the sway of her hips and the faint scent of jasmine trailing behind her.

Vivian glanced up from her seat near the window and smirked, already sliding her bag off the adjacent chair.

“Tried a new strategy today?” Vivian whispered as Hailey dropped into the seat. “Aim for being so late they cancel class out of pity?”

Hailey smirked, brushing a strand of blonde hair off her cheek. “Oh, totally. It’s called making an entrance. You wouldn’t get it, babe. It’s a skill.”

Vivian bit her lip to keep from laughing, nudging Hailey lightly with her elbow. “You know Harrow hates it when you waltz in like you own the place.”

Hailey leaned back in her seat, legs crossed, scrolling casually through her phone. “Yeah? He should be grateful I even showed up. I had options this morning.”

Vivian rolled her eyes, but the corners of her mouth twitched.

From the back of the lecture hall came a loud bark of laughter — unmistakably Tyler’s, echoing off the walls like a drunk seal. A few of the other guys chimed in, voices too loud and too amused by their own jokes.

Among them sat Grayson Winslow — taller, quieter, and far too composed for the chaos around him. He leaned back in his seat, arms folded, gaze distant but sharp. He wasn’t laughing, but he wasn’t stopping it either.

Hailey’s eyes flicked to the back row, then slowly back to Vivian, a grin tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Well, well.” She murmured, voice laced with mischief. “Look who decided to grace us with his royal presence.”

Vivian followed her gaze and immediately looked away. “He’s just sitting there.”

Hailey raised a brow. “Mhm. And you’ve been ‘just’ glancing over your shoulder every five minutes.”

“I haven’t.”

“You have.” Hailey smirked, nudging her. “Is there something I should know? You and my charming, broody brother exchanging longing looks across the battlefield of academia?”

Vivian flushed. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe,” Hailey said with a wink. “But I’m also observant. And I know that look—you’ve got a Grayson situation brewing.”

Vivian groaned and covered her face with her sleeve. “I hate you.”

Hailey grinned, victorious. “Love you too.”

They dissolved into quiet giggles, muffled behind cupped hands, while the lecture continued unnoticed in the background.

The clock dragged. Professor Harrow’s monotone voice kept buzzing like an old refrigerator. Hailey zoned out completely, mentally planning her outfit for the weekend party Vivian had told her about—until her name, sharp and distinct, cracked through the lecture like a whip.

“Miss Winslow.”

Her fingers paused mid-scroll.

Harrow adjusted his glasses, giving her the kind of look professors reserved for students who treated academia like an optional side quest. “Given your current standing in this class, it would be wise to accept the help that’s been arranged for you.”

Hailey blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You’ll be working with another student for exam preparation.”

A pause.

Then, “You’ve got to be kidding.”

A few students turned to watch the moment unfold. Hailey didn’t care. Her smile was all teeth, sharp and incredulous. She flicked her gaze toward Vivian in disbelief.

“You’re seriously pairing me with someone else?” she scoffed. “I’m failing a test, not applying for sainthood.”

Harrow didn’t respond. He simply returned to the lesson as if Hailey’s annoyance was air.

Hailey sat back in her chair, arms folded tight across her chest. Her jaw clenched, the muscles ticking as she stared straight ahead, no longer bothering to pretend she was paying attention.

Vivian gave her a look—half amusement, half sympathy. “It’s not that bad.” She whispered. “They’re smart. They might actually help.”

Hailey scoffed under her breath. “Yeah. Help me remember why I hate people who try too hard.”

Vivian nudged her gently. “You could at least try not to bite them.”

Hailey didn’t answer right away. Her gaze drifted to the front of the room, where the perfect student sat with perfect posture and perfect notes and a perfect little life.

She hated how smug it made her feel just knowing Harrow thought that girl could fix her. Like she was some broken project. Some charity case.

“Whatever.” Hailey said finally, voice cool and flat. “Let her try.”

She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes “She’ll quit by next week.”