Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

GRAVE

Kayce James.

She's mine.

She just doesn't know it yet.

The garnet, rust, and mustard fallen leaves rustle around my sneakers with the unseasonably light, warm breeze as I wait for her. I sit in the same place I do every Thursday afternoon, a wooden park bench across the street from McArthur Hall, where she has Psychology 402 with Professor Stewart until 3:15 p.m.

Pulling my phone from the front pocket of my jeans, I take a quick glance at the time— 3:21 p.m.

She's late.

Kayce is never late. She is overly punctual and always adheres to her routine. It has served her well, garnering her early admission to medical school at Dartmouth and the likelihood of securing her place as valedictorian in the spring.

She's as fucking smart as she is beautiful.

I put my phone away as I stand and grab my bookbag, ready to scour McArthur Hall before searching for her at her dorm. As I step off the curb to cross the street, Professor Stewart walks through the opening door and holds it for Kayce to pass through.

The sun accentuates the natural cinnamon highlights of her dark auburn hair as the breeze picks up and tousles her lightly curled locks across her face. She brushes them to the side, over her round, rosy cheeks and tucks them behind her ear.

I can barely pull my gaze from the golden caramel of her hazel eyes. The shade of them is mesmerizing, but that isn't their sole draw. Like always, I stare, hoping that just for a moment, she'll look at me. That she'll finally see me. But not once does she peer in my direction.

Another set darts my way, they belong to Professor Stewart. Catching my stare, a look of fatherly concern flashes over his face. Throwing the bookbag in my hand over my shoulder, I wave at the other students walking through the door beside him.

His features soften with every step I take toward their group. Continuing my ruse, I make mundane small talk with one of them to further blend in. I continue to walk with them, even though they are heading in the wrong direction—I don't need to follow Kayce to know with near certainty where she is going .

She'll leisurely cross the quad toward Wheaton Hall if she follows her normal routine. Once there, she'll make a quick trip inside to the coffee shop to grab an iced oat milk espresso and, more often than not, a small snack.

Ditching the group of guys, I double back across campus toward the Latte Lounge. When I pass the open shop front, Kayce is standing at the counter making small talk with Becca, the regular weekday barista, as she waits for her order. Lingering near the entrance, I can't help but chuckle to myself when Kayce mentions needing the double-shot to stay up to study tonight.

That's definitely not how she spends her evenings.

Everyone on campus thinks she's so sweet and innocent. If they knew the truth, they'd be as obsessed as I am. Her secret is safe with me, though—no one else deserves to know her the way that I do.

Keeping my distance, I follow behind Kayce as she walks toward her dorm. She's oblivious to my presence as she enjoys slow, savory sips of her iced coffee every few steps. When she reaches her destination, she swipes her keycard at the front of her dorm, Sullivan Hall. Kayce pulls open the main door of the building and pauses. Standing unwaveringly still, she glances over her shoulder.

Do you know I'm here?

Can you feel me?

She shakes her head, visibly acknowledging what she thinks is a foolish feeling, not realizing it's an intuition she should probably listen to .

"See you soon, cinnamon," I mutter to myself before heading to my apartment at the edge of campus.

I sit at my desk, intending to study for my upcoming physics exam, but I find myself spending more time glancing at the clock instead of my textbook or notes. The minutes tick by like hours, waiting until it's time.

At 9:58 p.m., I pull the mask from my desk drawer and slide it over my face. Giving a quick glance in the mirror to ensure my face is covered, I click the link to join our private chat.