01| Ice Queen
The coastal wind whipped through Calliope's hair as she stepped off the bus, the salty air immediately invading her senses. Crescent Bay University loomed ahead, a blend of old and new architecture that seemed to rise out of the cliffs, its Gothic spires piercing the sky. She pulled the hood of her oversized hoodie tighter around her face, hoping to remain invisible as she walked through the throngs of students milling about the campus. She preferred it that way-anonymity had become her shield, her armor.
The campus buzzed with life, students laughing, talking, flirting, all seemingly carefree in their college bubble. Calliope envied them, but she also resented them. How could they be so happy, so fucking oblivious to thedarkness that lurked just beneath the surface of the world? She'd seen that darkness firsthand, lived it, and it had left scars deeper than anyone could see.
She walked briskly across the Quad, her boots crunching on the gravel paths that wound through the grass. Her hazel eyes, large and doe-like, darted around, taking in her surroundings with a mixture of caution and curiosity. The Quad was beautiful, she could admit that, with its towering oak trees and ivy-covered buildings, but it was also crowded, and that made her uncomfortable.
She headed toward the library, the one place she'd scouted out on her first visit to the campus. It was a massive stone building, all high arches and leaded glass windows, offering the promise of silence and solitude-two things she craved more than anything. Inside, the musty smell of old books greeted her, a comforting scent that reminded her of the hours she'd spent hiding in libraries as a child, escaping the world between the pages of novels that offered a respite from her reality.
Calliope found an empty table in a secluded corner of the library and dropped her bag onto the chair beside her. She slipped out of her hoodie, revealing the worn t-shirt beneath, and pushed up the sleeves to her elbows, exposing the faint scars that marred her forearms. She traced one absentmindedly, her mind drifting back to a time she wished she could forget.
"Excuse me, is this seat taken?"
The voice startled her, pulling her abruptly from her thoughts. She looked up to see a tall, broad-shouldered guy standing in front of her, holding a couple of thick textbooks. He had a warm, disarming smile that seemed out of place in the cold, quiet library. His dirty blonde hair was tousled, as if he'd just run a hand through it, and his blue eyes were bright, almost annoyingly so.
"No," she muttered, dropping her gaze back to her notebook. She hoped he'd take the hint and leave her alone, but he didn't.
"Mind if I sit here?" he asked, already pulling out the chair across from her.
She bit back a sigh of irritation. "It's a free country."
He chuckled as he sat down, the sound low and pleasant, and despite herself, Calliope felt a flicker of something in her chest-a flutter she hadn't felt in a long time. She quickly squashed it. She wasn't here to make friends, and she sure as hell wasn't here to get involved with anyone.
"Name's Walker, by the way," he said, flipping open one of his textbooks. He didn't look at her as he spoke, which she appreciated. It made it easier to ignore him.
"Calliope," she mumbled, more out of politeness than any real desire to introduce herself. She wasn't sure why she even bothered. Most people couldn't even pronounce her name correctly, and those who could often turned it into some cutesy nickname like Callie, which she despised.
"Calliope, huh?" Walker said, testing the name on his tongue. "That's a unique name. I like it."
She didn't respond, instead focusing on the notebook in front of her, though she hadn't written a single word since he'd sat down. She could feel his eyes on her, even though he was pretending to be absorbed in his studies. It made her skin prickle, not with fear, but with something else-something unfamiliar and unsettling.
"Are you a freshman?" he asked after a few moments of silence.
"Yeah," she replied curtly. She wasn't in the mood for small talk, and she definitely wasn't in the mood to share anything about herself with a stranger, no matter how friendly or attractive he seemed.
"Me too. Just started on the hockey team. You follow hockey?"
"No."
"Well, if you ever want to catch a game, let me know. I can get you tickets."
She finally looked up at him, frowning. "Why would I want to do that?"
Walker blinked, clearly taken aback by her bluntness. "Uh, because it's fun? And because I'm offering?"
She almost felt bad for being so rude, but then she remembered that she didn't owe him anything. "I'm not interested."
He raised his hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay. No pressure. Just thought I'd offer."
"Thanks," she muttered, though she didn't mean it. She returned her attention to her notebook, hoping he'd get the message and shut up.
He did, finally falling silent, though she could still feel his presence across from her, an unwanted warmth in her cold, carefully controlled world. She scribbled a few notes, her mind racing with thoughts she didn't want to have, about a guy she didn't want to think about.
After what felt like an eternity, he closed his book and stood up, slinging his backpack over one shoulder. "Well, Calliope, it was nice meeting you. See you around?"
She shrugged, noncommittal. "Maybe."
He hesitated, as if he wanted to say something else, but then he just smiled again-damn that smile-and walked away, leaving her alone once more. She watched him go, a strange mix of relief and regret settling in her chest. She shook it off, scolding herself for even considering letting someone like him into her life.
She had bigger things to worry about than some golden boy with a charming smile. Much bigger things.
***
The rest of the day passed in a blur of lectures and campus orientation, none of which held her interest. Calliope kept her head down, avoiding eye contact with anyone who might try to engage her. By the time her last class ended, she was exhausted, both physically and mentally. She just wanted to go back to her dorm room and disappear into the silence.
But as she made her way across the Quad, she heard the distant sound of skates on ice, the familiar swish and scrape echoing through the cold evening air. Curious, she followed the sound to the ice arena, where the CBU hockey team was practicing. She stood at the edge of the rink, watching as the players moved with practiced precision, their skates carving smooth paths in the ice.
She spotted Walker almost immediately-he was hard to miss, with his confident posture and easy grace on the ice. He glided across the rink, laughing and joking with his teammates, completely in his element. He looked different out there, more serious, more focused, but still with that undercurrent of warmth that had caught her off guard in the library.
Calliope watched him for a few minutes, entranced despite herself. There was something about the way he moved, so sure and steady, that made her stomach flutter. But then she shook her head, angry at herself for being so easily distracted. She had promised herself that she wouldn't let anyone in, and she wasn't about to break that promise now.
But just as she turned to leave, another player skated into view-a tall, broad-shouldered guy with dark hair and a scowl that could freeze the ice beneath him. He was intimidating, to say the least, his eyes hard and focused as he maneuvered the puck across the rink with brutal efficiency.
"Blake Ryder," someone nearby whispered, and Calliope's heart skipped a beat. She'd heard of him-everyone had. He was the best player on the team, and also the most feared. There were rumors about him, about his temper, about the fights he'd been in, about the way he never let anyone get too close. He was a mystery, and mysteries were dangerous.
As she watched Blake, she felt a strange pull, like gravity drawing her toward something she didn't want to understand. He was everything Walker wasn't-dark, brooding, intense. And there was something in his eyes, something raw and unyielding, that sent a shiver down her spine.
She backed away, suddenly feeling like she was in over her head. She didn't need this, didn't need the complications that either of these guys could bring into her life. She turned and walked away, forcing herself not to look back, even though she could still feel the weight of their presence behind her, like shadows she couldn't shake.
As she reached her dorm, Calliope resolved to keep her distance. She would focus on her studies, on surviving, just like she always had. There was no room for distractions, no room for mistakes.
But as she lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, she couldn't shake the image of Walker's smile or the intensity of Blake's gaze. And for the first time in a long time, Calliope felt something stir inside her-a small, flickering flame that she knew she had to extinguish before it burned her alive.
Because the last time she let herself feel anything, it had nearly destroyed her.
And she wasn't sure she could survive that again.
