Chapter One:What the hell did he just say?
"Yes, Dad. I have my passport. Yes, I checked three times. No, I'm not going to lose it between security and the gate."
I shifted my phone to my other ear, dodging a family of five who'd decided the middle of the terminal was the perfect place for a reunion photoshoot. Seoul-Incheon International Airport was packed, and I was about two seconds away from clotheslining someone with my carry-on.
"Riley, I'm serious. You need to..."
"Text you when I land, keep my location on, don't talk to strangers, don't get into unmarked taxis, don't wander off alone at night." I rattled off his usual safety checklist before he could. "Got it. Anything else, or can I actually board my flight now?"
He sighed. The classic Paul Martinez I'm-disappointed-but-I-love-you sigh. "I just want you to be safe, mija."
"I know." My voice softened. "I'll be fine. It's just one semester."
"One semester in Korea. Alone."
"Not alone. Tyler is there, remember?" I grinned even though he couldn't see it. "Your favorite person."
Another sigh. Heavier this time. Dad had never been Tyler's biggest fan, but he'd learned to tolerate him after two years of dating.
"Just... be smart, okay?"
"Always am."
"And call your mother when you get there."
"Will do. Love you."
"Love you too, Riley."
I ended the call and shoved my phone into my jacket pocket, weaving through the crowd with my suitcase bumping behind me. Gate 47. Hanseong University, here I come.
Three months ago, I'd gotten the email. Full scholarship to one of Korea's most prestigious universities for their spring semester exchange program.
I'd applied on a whim, never actually expecting to get in. But apparently, my GPA and some essay about bridging cultural divides through business innovation had done the trick.
The real kicker? Tyler had no idea I was coming.
He'd been at Hanseong since last fall, part of some elite international business track his parents had pushed him into. But really, he was there for hockey.
The Falcons. Hanseong's powerhouse team that had won the Asian University Ice Hockey Championship two years running. Tyler had been recruited as their star right winger, and from what I'd seen in the highlight reels he'd sent me, he was living up to the hype.
Every FaceTime call, he'd tell me about practice, about games, about his teammates. I'd gotten used to seeing him in that black and silver jersey, hair still damp from the shower, face flushed from the ice.
And I'd been stuck in Portland, cheering him on from seven thousand miles away.
But now? I was about to walk onto his campus and blow his mind.
I couldn't wait to see his face.
The welcome party was tonight. I'd timed my arrival perfectly. Late enough that Tyler would already be at the event, early enough that I could clean up and make a dramatic entrance.
I'd been planning this moment for weeks. The surprise. The reunion. Maybe even a kiss in front of his entire team.
God, I was such a romantic.
I dragged my suitcase through the arrivals terminal, scanning the signs for the shuttle to Hanseong's campus. The university was about forty minutes outside Seoul, tucked away in some bougie district where all the old money families sent their kids.
My phone buzzed. A text from Tyler.
Tyler: Party starts at 8. Wish you were here.
I bit back a grin. Soon, babe. So soon.
I was halfway to the shuttle pickup when someone slammed into me from the side.
Not bumped. Slammed.
My suitcase tipped, my shoulder bag went flying, and I stumbled hard enough that I would've hit the ground if I hadn't caught myself on a nearby railing. My phone clattered across the tile floor.
"What the hell..."
"Watch where you're going."
I whipped around, ready to unleash two years of customer service rage on whoever just bulldozed me, and froze.
Because standing there, looking like he'd just stepped out of a cologne ad, was Asher Kane. Falcons cocky captain, Asher Kane.
Tall. Stupidly handsome. Dark hair swept back like he'd just run his fingers through it, sharp jawline, expensive-looking black coat over a designer hoodie. And those eyes. Cold, annoyed, like I was the one who'd just body-checked him in the middle of an airport.
I tucked my hair behind my ear, trying to keep my voice steady even though I was two seconds from losing it. "Do they not apologize here?"
He gave me a slow once-over. Head to toe, like he was cataloging whether I was worth his time. Then he turned to walk away.
"What the hell." I grabbed my phone off the floor and stepped in front of him. "You don't know me?"
He stopped. Looked at me like I'd just asked him to recite the periodic table. "Do I need to?"
You really don't know me.
Tyler's girlfriend. The one he FaceTimed every night. The one whose photo was definitely somewhere in his dorm room. I'd been in the background of his Instagram stories, in the comments of his posts, tagged in his highlights. And Asher Kane, team captain, didn't have a clue who I was?
"Listen," he said, voice dripping with that particular brand of rich-boy condescension I'd learned to hate in high school. "If you're a fan or something, I really don't have time for this."
I blinked. Once. Twice.
What the hell did he just say? Fan? Is he really crazy or something?
I opened my mouth to tell him exactly where he could shove his ego, but he was already walking away, phone pressed to his ear like I'd never existed.
Fine. Whatever.
I grabbed my suitcase and headed for the shuttle, forcing myself to breathe. I wasn't going to let some arrogant hockey captain ruin this. I was here for Tyler. For us. And in about an hour, I'd be surprising the hell out of my boyfriend at his team's welcome party.
