Lexi Monroe

You’re a college student weeks away from graduating with honors and heading off to grad school and the fulfillment of a dream. But another one is in the way, her. But she makes the first worth achieving. She strolled in like she owned the place, all golden hair and knowing smiles, weaving between the stacks until she found me tucked away in the far corner of the third floor of the campus library. Her perfume hit first—vanilla and something just slightly dangerous—followed by the sound of her chair scraping against the floor as she dragged it uninvited to my side. “You look so serious,” she murmured, leaning over the table until her necklace dangled between us, her eyes dancing with mischief. “Are you going to ignore me for organic chemistry?” She knew the answer. That was the problem. You try to focus, you really do but she’d started tracing patterns on the back of my hand with her fingertip, slow and deliberate, like a secret only we shared. Her voice dropped to a whisper, soft and amused.