The music was too loud.
Lila Carter pressed her back against the cold brick wall of the Sigma Kappa house, wishing she could disappear into it. The bass thumped through her chest, and neon lights flashed across the sea of laughing, dancing bodies. She didn't belong here.
But she had to be here.
Her fingers tightened around the crumpled invitation in her pocket—the one that had been slipped into her locker that morning with three ominous words: *Midnight. Sigma House. Come alone.*
She had no idea who sent it. But when you're one missed scholarship payment away from losing everything, you don't ignore mysterious notes.
Lila adjusted her glasses—the one thing she hadn't ditched in her pathetic attempt to "blend in"—and scanned the crowd. Girls in glitter and guys with half-unbuttoned shirts swayed under strobe lights, red plastic cups in hand. She tugged at the hem of her borrowed black dress, suddenly hyper-aware of how out of place she looked.
*Just find whoever sent the note. Get this over with.*
She took a deep breath and pushed off the wall—
And immediately collided with a solid chest.
A very warm, very *hard* chest.
"Whoa there, Glasses." A deep, amused voice rumbled above her. "You lost?"
Lila stumbled back, her face burning. She didn't need to look up to know who it was. That voice—smooth, arrogant, laced with the kind of confidence only money and good genes could buy—was unmistakable.
*Jaxon Hale.*
Crescent Bay's golden boy. Star quarterback. And, according to campus gossip, the guy who'd broken more hearts than midterms.
She forced herself to meet his gaze.
Big mistake.
Jaxon Hale was even more infuriatingly good-looking up close. Dark, tousled hair. Sharp jawline. A smirk that probably made girls swoon but just made Lila want to punch him.
"I'm fine," she muttered, sidestepping him.
He moved with her, blocking her path. "You don't look like you're fine." His eyes flicked over her—not in the creepy way most guys did, but like he was *studying* her. "You also don't look like you belong here."
Lila's spine stiffened. "And you're the authority on who belongs where?"
Jaxon's smirk widened. "At a Sigma party? Yeah, actually."
Of course. The Sigmas were basically his fan club.
She opened her mouth to fire back—
"Jax!" A guy with a buzzcut clapped him on the shoulder. "Dude, you're missing the show! Parker just bet he could shotgun a beer in under five seconds."
Jaxon didn't take his eyes off Lila. "Be right there."
Buzzcut guy glanced between them, eyebrows shooting up. "Ohhh. Got it." He winked and disappeared into the crowd.
Lila wanted to melt into the floor.
Jaxon tilted his head. "So. You gonna tell me why you're really here?"
She hesitated. The note in her pocket felt like it was burning a hole through her dress. But admitting she'd been summoned like some kind of secret mission? No way.
"Just… exploring."
Jaxon snorted. "Exploring."
"Yeah. You know. Trying new things." She crossed her arms. "Not that you'd understand—you've probably never had to try at anything in your life."
His grin faltered for half a second—so fast she almost missed it. Then it was back, sharper. "Ouch. Someone's got opinions."
Before she could retort, a loud crash came from upstairs, followed by cheers. Jaxon's head snapped toward the sound, his expression darkening.
"Stay here," he ordered.
Like hell she would.
As soon as he vanished into the crowd, Lila exhaled and reached into her pocket. Maybe the sender had left another clue—
Her fingers brushed empty fabric.
The note was gone.
Panic shot through her. Had she dropped it? Or—
"Looking for this?"
A girl stepped out of the shadows, holding the crumpled paper between manicured fingers. She was gorgeous—tall, honey-blonde, with a smile that didn't reach her icy blue eyes.
Lila recognized her instantly.
*Nina Whitmore.*
President of the Crescent Society.
Nina tilted her head. "You're late, Lila Carter."
Lila's mouth went dry. "You—you sent the note?"
"No." Nina's smile turned razor-sharp. "*We* did."
A hand clamped onto Lila's wrist, yanking her backward—
Right into a hidden hallway, where three more faces waited in the dim light.
The Crescent Society.
And they didn't look happy.
Nina stepped forward, lifting the note. "You were invited here for a reason, Lila." She paused. "But first, you have to prove you're worth it."
Lila's heart pounded. "Worth *what*?"
Nina's lips curved.
"A way to save your scholarship."
Lila's breath hitched.
*Save my scholarship?*
The words echoed in her head, but before she could demand answers, Nina snapped her fingers. One of the Society members—a guy with sharp cheekbones and cold, calculating eyes—stepped forward and shoved a small black box into Lila's hands.
"Open it," Nina ordered.
Lila hesitated, then lifted the lid.
Inside was a single silver key.
"What's this for?" she asked, her fingers trembling slightly.
Nina's smile was slow, deliberate. "Jaxon Hale's dorm room."
A beat of silence. Then—
"You want me to *break into his room*?" Lila's voice rose, and she quickly glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one had heard. The party's bass still pounded, muffling their conversation.
"Not break in." Nina rolled her eyes. "You have a key. That's just *walking in*."
"That's still illegal!"
"Only if you get caught." The guy with the cheekbones smirked.
Lila's grip tightened on the box. "Why me? And why his room?"
Nina leaned in, her perfume—something expensive and floral—filling Lila's space. "Because you're invisible, Lila. No one notices you. Not even Jaxon." She paused. "And we need something from his desk. A black notebook. Bring it to us by tomorrow night, and your scholarship problems disappear."
Lila's stomach twisted. She *was* invisible. The quiet girl in the back of the lecture hall. The one who took notes while everyone else made plans for the weekend.
But that didn't mean she was a thief.
"What's in the notebook?" she asked warily.
Nina's expression darkened. "That's not your concern."
"It *is* if you're asking me to—"
"*Or*," Nina cut in smoothly, "you can walk away right now. Go back to stressing over tuition. Wonder if your next meal will be ramen or the free crackers in the library." She shrugged. "Your choice."
Lila's jaw clenched. She *hated* that Nina was right.
Her scholarship was hanging by a thread. One missed payment, and she'd be packing her bags, leaving Crescent Bay—and her future—behind.
But stealing?
She swallowed hard.
"What if I get caught?"
Nina laughed, a sound like ice cracking. "Then you'd better hope Jaxon Hale is as forgiving as everyone says."
---
**Two Hours Later**
Lila stood outside Jaxon's dorm building, shivering in the cool night air.
She shouldn't be doing this.
*This is a mistake. This is a—*
Her phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number:
**Midnight. He's at the field house. You have 30 minutes.**
Lila's pulse spiked.
She looked up at the building—a sleek, modern dorm reserved for athletes and legacy students. Of course Jaxon lived here.
Taking a deep breath, she slipped inside.
The hallway was empty, quiet except for the hum of a vending machine down the hall. Room 307. Third door on the left.
Her fingers shook as she inserted the key.
The lock clicked.
She pushed the door open slowly, half-expecting an alarm to blare.
Nothing.
Just darkness.
Lila stepped inside, letting the door shut softly behind her. Moonlight spilled through the window, illuminating a neatly made bed, a desk cluttered with papers, and—
*There.*
A black notebook, just like Nina described.
Lila hurried forward, snatching it up. She didn't dare open it. The faster she got out, the better.
But as she turned to leave—
The door handle *twisted.*
Her blood turned to ice.
*No. No no no—*
The door swung open.
And Jaxon Hale stepped inside.
For a heartbeat, they just stared at each other.
Then his gaze dropped to the notebook in her hands.
His expression went dangerously still.
"Tell me," he said, voice low, "exactly why you're stealing from me."