Pick Me in the Dark

First Public Touch

Halcyon University looked the same the next morning—brick buildings, bare winter trees, students rushing with coffee and backpacks.

Mara felt like the only person walking through a different world.

She stood near the main quad, the new phone heavy in her bag, Siena a step behind her like a shadow.

“Breathe,” Siena whispered. “You look like you’re about to face a firing squad.”

Mara swallowed. “It feels like one.”

At exactly 10:00 a.m., a black car rolled up to the curb.

Not flashy. Not loud. Just expensive in the way that didn’t need to announce itself.

The driver got out and opened the rear door.

Julian Vale stepped onto campus like he owned the ground.

Students turned.

Heads lifted. Whispers spread. Phones came out.

He wore a long dark coat, hair slightly damp from the mist, expression calm. He looked too sharp for college, too controlled for youth.

And then his eyes found Mara.

Everything else blurred.

He walked toward her at an unhurried pace that made people part around him without knowing why.

When he reached her, he stopped close—too close.

Mara’s heart hammered.

“Good morning,” Julian said softly.

Siena made a disgusted noise behind Mara. “Ew, again.”

Julian’s gaze flicked to Siena, amused. “You must be Siena.”

Siena froze. “How—”

Julian looked back at Mara. “Ready?”

Mara’s throat tightened. “For what?”

Julian didn’t answer. He lifted his hand.

Mara’s whole body tensed.

Then—slowly, deliberately—he brushed his knuckles against her cheek, as if wiping away something that wasn’t there.

It was gentle.

Too gentle.

It made the moment feel intimate in a way that wasn’t part of any contract.

Mara’s breath caught.

Julian leaned closer, lips near her ear.

“Don’t flinch,” he murmured. “Or they’ll smell blood.”

Mara swallowed hard.

“They?” she whispered.

Julian’s gaze slid past her, over the crowd. “Everyone.”

He straightened and—without warning—took her hand.

His palm was warm. His grip firm.

Mara’s stomach flipped.

Siena hissed, “Consent clause—”

Julian’s thumb pressed lightly against Mara’s knuckles, a silent question.

Mara’s pulse thundered.

She could pull away.

She could end it right here, make a scene, burn the contract to ash in front of the whole campus.

But then she saw Leo’s face in her mind. Her father’s shaking hands. Her mother’s tears.

Mara didn’t pull away.

Julian’s gaze met hers for a fraction of a second.

Something like satisfaction flickered there—then vanished, replaced by calm.

He lifted their joined hands slightly, like a declaration.

Whispers turned into a wave.

A phone camera clicked.

Somebody said, “Is that—Julian Vale?”

Another voice: “Who’s she?”

Mara’s face burned.

Julian’s voice was quiet, only for her. “Walk.”

Mara walked beside him across the quad, hand in his, heart trying to claw its way out of her ribs.

Every step felt like a lie.

And yet, with his fingers wrapped around hers, it also felt like a trap snapping shut.

At the edge of the quad, Julian paused and turned to face her.

He didn’t let go.

“Lunch,” he said. “Off campus. Quiet.”

Mara forced her voice steady. “Why?”

Julian’s gaze swept her face, calculating.

“Because,” he said softly, “the rumor mill will be hungry. We feed it something small, so it doesn’t come for your brother.”

Mara’s throat tightened.

Julian leaned in, close enough that his breath warmed her skin.

“For the cameras,” he murmured, “smile like you chose me.”

Then he turned them both slightly—just enough for the nearest phone to catch the angle—

—and kissed her temple.

It was brief.

It was careful.

It was devastating.

Mara smiled, because she had to.

And the campus swallowed her whole.