THIRTY DAYS TO REMEMBER

OLIVIA I walked into Psych class with a frown on my face, clutching my notebook like it was a shield. Smiling at people felt like work. Real, physical work. I didn’t understand how everyone here looked so happy to be in class. Maybe they’d all forgotten how exhausting small talk could be. This was my first class of the semester and my first time in a real classroom in 3 years. I’d been homeschooled since my little accident—something I didn’t talk about much—and now, being surrounded by so many strangers felt like stepping into a new planet. Everyone seemed to know each other already, chatting like they’d been best friends forever. I scanned the room and found an empty seat beside a calm-looking girl with soft brown hair and a kind smile. She looked like the type who baked cookies for fun and said “sorry” even when she wasn’t at fault. “Hi,” she said the moment I sat down. “You’re really pretty.” I blinked at her, surprised. “Uh… thanks. Is anyone sitting here?” She shook her head. “Nope, it’s all yours.” “Good,” I said quickly. I wasn’t about to move even if she’d said yes. Whoever owned this seat could find somewhere else. I’d made enough effort just walking into this place. The professor came in a few minutes later, carrying a stack of notes and a tired expression that screamed, I’m not paid enough for this. He started mumbling about attendance and the syllabus when the door creaked open behind us. And then he walked in. Tall. I mean really tall. Maybe six-five, broad shoulders, messy brown hair that somehow looked effortlessly perfect, and the kind of presence that made the whole room go still. For a moment, I thought he was lost or maybe an athlete who had wandered into the wrong class. But then his eyes found me, and everything changed. He froze. Literally froze in the doorway like someone had pressed pause on his life. His expression shifted, and I swear, it looked like he’d just seen a ghost. His eyes darkened, sharp and full of something I couldn’t name. Our eyes locked, and I couldn’t look away. My heart did that annoying flutter thing, the one it only does when I see something...or someone I want. The professor cleared his throat. “Mr… Rivers, I assume? You’re late.” But the guy didn’t even glance at him. He just stood there, staring at me like I’d stolen something from him in another life. Then, slowly, he walked toward my row. My stomach tightened as he passed each desk. The air felt different, charged, like something invisible was stretching between us. When he finally reached me, he stopped. The professor’s voice was somewhere in the background, telling him to take a seat, but he didn’t move. He just stood there, looking at me for a full minute. And I just stared back. There was something in his eyes—something haunted, almost painful. I didn’t know him, but in that moment, it felt like he knew me. Finally, he looked away, dropped into a seat two rows behind me, and didn’t say a word. Well… that was weird. I’d always known I was attractive. I wasn’t shy about it. I was taller than most girls my age, curvy in a way that made guys forget how to breathe, with jet-black wavy hair and grey eyes that people often said looked cold until they didn’t. I’d heard it all before—pretty, hot, beautiful. But no one had ever looked at me the way he just did. Like I was something... I don’t know what to call that look. The rest of class was a blur. I couldn’t focus on anything the professor said. My mind kept circling back to him. I wanted to turn around, to see if he was still watching me. But I didn’t want to look desperate either. When class ended, I gathered my things slowly, pretending not to care. But as I stepped out of the row, I caught sight of him heading toward the door. My chance. I reached out and touched his arm. “Hey...” He flinched. Like I’d burned him. Then he turned, his jaw tight, eyes flickering with something unreadable. “Don’t,” he said, his voice low but sharp. Before I could even react, he walked out, fast. Almost like he was running from something. From me. “What the hell?” I muttered, staring after him. The girl beside me—my cookie-baking seatmate—burst out laughing. “What’s funny?” I asked, half-annoyed. She grinned. “That was Rivers. He’s… kind of a mystery. Doesn’t talk to anyone. No friends, no parties. I think he just shows up, gets his A, and leaves.” “He was staring at me,” I said, crossing my arms. “Yeah,” she said slowly, still smiling. “That’s weird. He doesn’t even look people in the eye, let alone stare.” I glanced at her. “What’s your name again?” “Miya,” she said, and I liked her instantly. She was easy to talk to, even though she clearly thought I was dramatic. I invited Miya over to my dorm. I told her we could hang out, but let’s be honest—I just wanted to know more about Jordan Rivers. When she showed up around eight, she was carrying an overnight bag. I blinked. “You’re… staying over?” She shrugged. “You said we could hang out. I brought snacks.” Fair enough. We sprawled on my bed, the glow from my fairy lights giving the room a warm, sleepy vibe. I didn’t waste time. “So, tell me everything you know about Rivers.” She laughed. “Straight to it, huh?” “Of course. You saw the way he looked at me. It wasn’t normal.” “You sure he didn’t just… recognize you from somewhere?” “No. Trust me, I would remember if I’d met him before.” Miya giggled, popping a chip into her mouth. “You’ve got it bad already.” “I do not,” I said, though even I didn’t sound convinced. “I just… want to know what his deal is. That’s all.” She shrugged. “There’s not much to tell. He’s quiet. Keeps to himself. Some people say he had a bad breakup, others think he’s just antisocial. But he’s smart, like genius-level smart. Girls tried talking to him last semester. Didn’t go well.” “What do you mean?” “I mean he ignored them,” she said with a grin. “Cold as ice. You’d think he was allergic to human interaction.” I frowned. “Well, maybe he just hasn’t met the right person.” “Oh please,” she laughed. “Don’t tell me you think you’re the right person.” I smirked. “Why not? He stared at me like I was a damn miracle. Maybe I’m exactly what he needs.” Miya threw a pillow at me. “You’re insane.” “Maybe,” I said, laughing. “But admit it—you’re curious too.” She hesitated. “Okay, fine. Maybe a little. But seriously, don’t waste your time. Guys like him don’t just fall for people. They barely talk.” I leaned back against my headboard, crossing my legs. “I can make him talk.” Miya raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? How?” I thought about it for a moment, then smiled. “I’ll make him want me.” Her laugh was so loud it echoed off the walls. “You’re ridiculous.” “I’m confident,” I corrected. “Okay, Miss Confident. What if I make it interesting?” I tilted my head. “Interesting how?” She grinned, that mischievous spark lighting up her face. “I dare you.” “Dare me?” “To do what?” She paused for dramatic effect. “I dare you to make Jordan Rivers fall in love with you in thirty days.” I stared at her, then burst out laughing. “That’s your big dare?” “Yep,” she said proudly. “Thirty days. Make him fall for you. And if you can’t—well, you owe me a whole month of doing my laundry.” I raised a brow. “Laundry? That’s the best you can come up with?” “Do you accept or not?” she asked, crossing her arms like she’d just challenged me to a duel. I thought about Jordan’s eyes—dark, intense, the way he’d looked at me like he’d been hit by lightning. I thought about how he’d flinched when I touched him, how he’d run like he was scared of something he couldn’t name. “Fine,” I said, smiling. “I accept your little dare.”