~Samantha Lee~

My phone vibrated against the wooden table sounding like a mosquito in my ear. I groaned, burying my face deeper into my arms. It was barely 9 AM on a Thursday, and my brain was actively protesting any form of conscious thought.

"Sam, just pick it up," Lily chirped, her voice far too bright for this unholy hour. She slid onto the bench next to me, her long blonde ponytail swaying.

"No can do, ladies," I mumbled, my words muffled. "It's her."

"Her?" Rachel asked, though the slight tilt of her head indicated she knew exactly who I meant. "Your mom? Maybe it's important, Sam."

I snorted, finally lifting my head, my black hair a chaotic mess around my face. "Important? The only thing 'important' my mother ever calls for is to dictate my life choices, critique my outfit from three weeks ago, or inform me of another one of her society galas. Hard pass." I waved a dismissive hand, as if I could physically swat away the impending doom of a parental lecture. Honestly, the woman could suck the joy out of a puppy convention.

Just then, a saccharine sweet, utterly grating cheer echoed from the stage at the front of the university amphitheater. "Cheer chicks! We're the best! Put us to the test!"

My eye twitched. "Ugh, seriously?" I muttered, my voice dripping with disdain.

Lily grimaced. "Hannah and her flock of plastic pigeons."

"'Plastic pigeons' nice one, Lil," I said, a small smile spreading across my face. "I swear, if they don't stop with that ear-splitting nonsense, I'm going to lose it."

Rachel took a dramatic sip of her espresso. "I hate them and Hannah most of all. She literally glares at us like we personally stole her tiara."

"Because we're going to," I declared, leaning forward. "The Glitter Girls are going to whoop their perfect, surgically enhanced asses this season. We just need more practice, a tighter formation on the triple basket toss, and maybe a new chant that doesn't sound like it was written by a six-year-old on a sugar high."

"Preach!" Lily exclaimed, high-fiving me across the table. Rachel joined in, a small, genuine smile finally gracing her lips. This was our sacred bond, a shared hatred for the Cheer Chicks and an unshakeable belief that the Glitter Girls were the superior cheer squad.

The cheers finally, blessedly, died down. A new energy rippled through the amphitheater, a low hum that quickly escalated into a roar. The lights dimmed, then flared, spotlighting the entrance to the stage.

And then the university's hockey team came.

Adrenaline surged through the crowd, as they strode out, all I could see were their broad shoulders and lean muscles, looking like they'd just stepped off a GQ cover shoot, stick in hand. My gaze immediately locked onto Logan, my boyfriend. He winked at me from the stage, a charming, confident grin splitting his face. My stomach did a little flip, definitely the usual Logan effect. He was handsome, popular, and ridiculously good at hockey. What more could a girl want?

But then, the second wave of players emerged, and my mood, which had been steadily climbing, plummeted faster than a lead balloon in an elevator shaft.

Tyler Pierce.

His dark hair was perpetually messy in that artfully disheveled way, and his eyes, a startling shade of green, seemed to hold a mischievous glint even from a distance. He was the university's golden boy, the hockey team's prodigal son, and my personal brand of migraine.

As he stepped onto the stage, the decibel level in the amphitheater skyrocketed. "TYLER! TYLER! TYLER!" The chants were deafening which seemed to vibrate directly inside my skull. Girls shrieked his name, holding up signs that read "Marry Me, Tyler!" and "Pierce My Hero!"

My jaw tightened at the stupid, ridiculous ways the girls had cheered him on, because apparently, he was energetic on the ice. Or maybe it was just an excuse for everyone to chant his name like he was some kind of sports god. Which, to be fair, he kind of was. And it absolutely, unequivocally, ruined my mood every single time. Logan was great, amazing even, but Tyler... Tyler was a different kind of monster, the kind that got under your skin and stayed there.

"Ugh, I can't," I muttered, pushing back from the table with such force that it wobbled precariously. "I need to get out of here before I start throwing glitter bombs at adoring fans."

"Sam, where are you going?" Lily called out, her voice barely audible over the roaring crowd.

"Changing room!" I yelled back, not bothering to look at them. "I'm out. This is too much."

I weaved through the throngs of students, my shoulders hunched, trying to make myself as small and invisible as possible. The 'Tyler' chants followed me, echoing in my head annoyingly. Just as I reached the double doors leading to the sports complex changing rooms, a figure stepped in front of me, blocking my path.

"Hey, Sam!"

It was Mike, one of Logan's teammates, a burly defenseman with a perpetually good-natured grin. He held out a brightly coloured invitation card. "There's a party tomorrow night. At the old frat house, you know? The one by the lake. We're inviting everyone in sports, hockey, cheer, basketball, swim team, you name it. It's gonna be epic."

I took the card, barely glancing at the flashy gold font. My mind was still reeling from the 'Tyler' overdose. "Uh, yeah, thanks, Mike. Got it."

"Cool! See ya there!" He grinned, then headed back into the fray.

I muttered a vague 'yeah' and pushed through the doors into the quiet, slightly damp-smelling changing room. Finally, peace. I walked towards my locker, fumbling for my key, when my phone, which I'd shoved into my pocket, started vibrating again.

Mom.

Again!

I groaned, a long, drawn-out sound of pure agony, I knew this was going to be a relentless pursuit. She knew I'd seen her calls. She wouldn't stop until I picked up.

"Hello Mom, this is not the right time to call you know," I snapped into the phone, not bothering with a polite greeting.

"Samantha Lee! Is that any way to speak to your mother?" Her voice still found a way to grate on my nerves. "I've been calling you for an hour, darling. Why aren't you picking up?"

"Because I'm busy, Mom. And it's Thursday. You know I don't answer calls before noon on Thursdays unless it's an actual emergency."

"This is an emergency, darling. A very important one. You need to come home."

My brow furrowed. "Home? For what? What's happened?" Please don't let it be Aunt Carol's fifth divorce party or another one of her ridiculous charity auctions.

"We need to discuss something. Arrangements, actually. We have a lot to talk about, face to face." Her tone was unusually serious, which, coming from my mother, was almost terrifying.

"Look, Mom, just tell me now. Is everything okay? Are you alright?" My heart gave an anxious thump.

A brief pause, then a sigh. "Yes, yes, everyone I am perfectly fine. The arrangements are for... I am getting married."

My jaw dropped. The locker key slipped from my numb fingers, clattering to the tiled floor. The air left my lungs in a dramatic whoosh. My phone felt like a lead weight against my ear.

"You're... what now?" My voice was a choked whisper.

"Yes, I am getting married, darling on Saturday. We've finalized everything. You just need to come home to meet your stepfather and try on the dress."

"You must be seriously joking Mom," I muttered unable to hide how shocked I was.

My mom getting remarried is the most absurd thing I have ever heard for years.

What happened to staying away from men till eternity?

~Samantha Lee~

The entire concept of 'happily ever after' had always felt like a cruel joke in our household. My mom, bless her chaotic heart, had pretty much sworn off men after my Chinese dad decided he preferred a Buddhist monastery in Tibet to our suburban chaos. For years, her frustration, her unfulfilled longing dripped onto me. Every every messy room, every slightly-too-short skirt was an indictment of my character, an extension of her own personal disappointments. So, when she dropped the bombshell that she was not only dating someone but was getting married, I nearly died.

I tugged at the hem of my mini-dress, the fabric clinging in all the wrong places. My phone lay on my bed, vibrating with Logan's contact name, but he wasn't picking up. Typical! He was probably already at the pre-game party with his frat brothers, surrounded by sweaty bodies and cheap beer, completely oblivious to the fact that his girlfriend was trying to coordinate a grand entrance.

"Still trying to track down Captain Oblivious?"

I nearly jumped out of my skin. Rachel was leaning against my doorframe wearing a black velvet jumpsuit. "He's probably already there, wrestling with a frat bro for the last bag of Doritos," she added, an amused smirk playing on her lips.

"He said he'd meet me," I grumbled, shoving my phone into my tiny clutch. "And I don't do solo entrances. It screams 'I have no friends and spend my weekends alphabetizing my sock drawer'."

Rachel rolled her eyes, pushing off the doorframe. "Relax, Sam. We'll make a grand entrance, together. Double the trouble, double the fun, zero percent chance of looking like a social pariah." She gestured towards the door. "Now come on, the bass is calling our names."

I smiled as we made our way out of the hostel and to the frat where the party was hosted, the 'club' was really just a repurposed warehouse off campus, known for its questionable hygiene but excellent DJ.

"Alright, mission find Logan," Rachel yelled over the music, already scanning the crowd.

"He's probably with his team," I shouted back, "You know how he gets when he's with the boys, he zones out. Probably doesn't even know his phone is in his pocket."

Famous last words, right? Because then I saw him. Logan was not with his teammates, I saw him with Hannah, her hands were tangled in his hair, his arms around her waist, and their mouths... definitely not talking. A full-on, tongue-invading, make-out session that left no room for doubt or polite interpretation.

I had left angrily, drunk, danced with strangers and my memory from that point onwards became fuzzy, then, nothing.

Until the sunlight filtered through the room, I groaned and my eyes snapped open, and I pulled the covers from my body with a gasp. My breath hitched when I noticed I was utterly, completely, terrifyingly naked.

"Aaaah!" I screamed.

"What the..." The voice was deep, raspy with sleep.

My head whipped to the side, my eyes widening to the size of dinner plates. Next to me, occupying the other half of the bed, was a person. A man and he too was naked, his chest rising and falling with a slow, sleep-drugged rhythm.

My brain, still half-hibernating in an alcohol-induced coma, struggled to process the brown hair, messy, falling over his forehead. Broad shoulders, a lean torso. And then, his eyes, green and confused, blinked open, locking onto mine.

Tyler!

My world spun as I covered my mouth with my hands.

"Oh, holy mother of..." Tyler bolted upright, the sheets pooling around his waist. His eyes were wide with a mixture of shock and dawning horror. Slowly, agonizingly, the memories started to flood in of how everything happened.

"No. No, no, no, no, no!" I scrambled, frantically grabbing for the pile of clothes thrown on a nearby chair."This cannot be happening!"

Tyler raked a hand through his hair, his face pale. "You're telling me! What the hell went down last night, Sam?"

"I don't know!" I shrieked, fumbling with the zipper of my dress, my hands shaking so hard I could barely aim. " We were both naked, we were both in bed. The answer was horrifyingly obvious.

He closed his eyes, then opened them again as if hoping I'd disappear. "Oh, God. This is... this is a nightmare."

"A nightmare is an understatement!" I finally wrestled my dress on, my hair a tangled mess, my makeup surely smeared. I looked like a hot mess, but at least I wasn't naked anymore. "Listen, Tyler, we are never, ever speaking of this again. Do you understand? Not a word. This never happened, we both blacked out, end of story."

He stared at me, his eyes still wide,  "You think I want this plastered all over campus?"

"Then we're in agreement!" I snatched my clutch, my heels, and practically sprinted towards the door, not even bothering to glance back. "Never happened!"

The door slammed shut behind me, and I didn't stop running until I was out on the street, the cool morning air doing nothing to calm my racing heart. The walk back to my hostel was a blur of mortified self-recrimination.

Tyler of all people, how could I... I slept with him. My stomach churned. The irony was ridiculous Logan cheats on me, and I wake up in bed with my biggest rival.

My phone, thankfully, chose that precise moment to start ringing, it was my mom.

I took a deep breath, trying to compose myself, "Hello?"

"Samantha Lee! Where are you?!" Her voice, even through the phone, was a piercing shriek. "You are not here! The ceremony starts in thirty minutes! Everyone is waiting!"

Oh.

My.

God.

The wedding! My mom's wedding.

"Mom, I... I forgot," I stammered.

"Forgot?!" she wailed. "You forgot your mother's wedding?! Get here this instant! The address is in the text I sent last night! Do you hear me?!"

"Yeah, Mom, I hear you! I'm on my way!" I practically yelled back, hanging up before she could launch into another tirade.

A wedding? Right! The universe truly had it out for me today.

I burst into my room just tore off the sequined disaster and practically leaped into the shower, scrubbing at my skin as if I could wash away the memories of the last few hours. Ten minutes later, I was out, dripping wet, and pulling on the first thing my hand found, a rose gold, off-the-shoulder gown that was probably way too fancy for a morning ceremony but, honestly, I didn't care. It was clean. I barely even attempted to comb my hair, just finger-combed it into some semblance of order before grabbing my clutch and practically flying out the door. The cab ride felt impossibly long, the driver probably wondering why his passenger looked like she'd just escaped from a high-speed chase.

The moment I stepped into the venue, I noticed there were so many people, my eyes scanned the crowd, finally landing on my mother. She was standing next to a distinguished-looking man, beaming, her usually harried face radiating pure joy. She spotted me and waved frantically, a mix of relief and barely suppressed annoyance on her face.

I forced a smile, weaving through the chattering guests. When I reached them, my mom grabbed my arm, squeezing it tight. "Samantha! Oh, thank God you're here! You look... well, you're here! This is my daughter, Samantha!" She turned to the man beside her, her smile softening even more. "And darling, this is Mr. Pierce, my husband."

Mr. Pierce extended a hand, his smile kind. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Samantha. Your mother talks about you constantly."

I shook his hand, trying to act normal, my voice a little shaky. "It's a pleasure to meet you too, Mr. Pierce. Congratulations."

Just then, a voice, deep and familiar, cut through the gentle murmur of conversation. "Sorry, I'm late, Dad. Had a... slow start to the morning."

My head snapped up, tilting towards the familiar sound. No, it couldn't be but there he was. Tyler Pierce, looking impossibly put-together in a tailored suit, his hair still slightly damp from a shower, his eyes finding mine across the small group. They widened fractionally, a silent, mutual gasp of horror passing between us.

Mr. Pierce chuckled, clapping Tyler on the shoulder. "Ah! Here comes my son."

What the hell?

~Samantha Lee~

My eyes fell on Tyler who seemed to be wrestling with the same dread as me. His jaw was tight, his gaze fixed on some invisible spot over my left shoulder, anywhere but at me.

"So, Samantha," Mom chirped, her smile getting wider, completely oblivious to the dread between Tyler and I, "Pierce and I have been thinking, you should move into the mansion with us," she said and my eyes widened in shock.

"Wait! What mom?! My room at the hostel is absolutely fine." I replied through gritted teeth.

"Your room at the hostel is fine, sweetie, but Mr. Pierce's house is also close to campus. You don't have to share a room with anyone."

I furrowed my brows,"Mom, no. Absolutely not. The hostel is perfect. I like my space, I like my freedom, I like not living with strangers." I tried to make it sound reasonable, but the emphasis on "strangers" was definitely for Tyler's benefit.

Tyler, for his part, finally shifted his gaze to me, a flash of something unreadable in his green eyes. "Yeah, Mrs. Pierce, Sam's got a point. The hostel works."

"Nonsense!" Mr. Pierce boomed, "It's a big house, plenty of space! And you two are practically family now. What better way to strengthen the bond between our new blended family than to live under one roof?" He beamed, completely missing the twin looks of horror exchanged between Tyler and me. "You both are brother and sister."

The words echoed in my head, mocking me, twisting the memory of last night's activities into something truly horrific. My face felt hot, and I could practically feel the blush creeping up my neck.

"No!" I blurted, simultaneously with Tyler's "No way!"

Mom's smile faltered. Her perfectly manicured eyebrow arched. "Is everything alright, you two?" she asked.

I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing the floor would open up and swallow me whole. "Yes, Mom. Everything's... peachy." I lied.

"Good," she announced, "Because that's quite enough. Samantha, you're moving into the house this weekend, it's settled. It's about family, Tyler will drive you to school every day and that's that."

Tyler slumped back in his chair, a defeated sigh escaping him. We said nothing and we left the wedding venue for the Pierce's mansion. My jaw probably dropped as we stepped into the gate of the mansion.

I literally had to fight the urge to whip my head around and stare at Tyler. This was his house? The guy who never flaunted anything. I mean, sure, he was on the university's elite hockey team, but that didn't scream "mansion dweller" to me. My internal monologue was a series of shocked exclamations. Holy hell! This is... wow.

We stepped inside, and the grand foyer was even more impressive. High ceilings, a sweeping staircase, and art that probably cost more than my entire tuition.

Mr. Pierce, radiating proud papa energy, led the way. "Samantha, your room is just up here!" He gestured grandly up the staircase that felt like it belonged in a movie.

What fresh hell awaited me?

He threw open a door at the end of a very long, very silent hallway. The room was huge, with a king-sized bed, a private bathroom, and a view that overlooked some kind of garden. It was beautiful, undeniably. But then he gestured across the hall, to another door. "And that's Tyler's room! You two will be neighbors!"

Neighbors?! Of course. Because the universe hated me. My eyes locked onto that door, then flitted to Tyler, who was leaning against the doorframe of his room, a faint, unreadable smirk playing on his lips. This was going to be an absolute nightmare.

After the full tour which included a ridiculously large kitchen, a home theatre, and a gym that put our campus one to shame, Mom clapped her hands together. "Well, that's everything! Mr. Pierce and I are off to do some planning. You two catch up!"

And with that, they were gone, leaving me alone in the vast, echoing hallway with the one person I absolutely, positively did not want to be alone with.

As soon as the sound of their footsteps faded, I spun on my heel, ready to bolt into my new, overly luxurious prison. But a hand shot out wrapping around my wrist. My entire body stiffened.

"Don't even think about it, Lee," Tyler's voice rumbled behind me.

I yanked my hand away as if his touch were acid. "Stay away from me, Pierce," I hissed, my voice barely a whisper, laced with a disgust I hoped was convincing. "You disgust me."

He took a slow step closer, a knowing glint in his eyes. "You didn't have that on your mind when you were busy moaning my name last night, did you?"

My eyes went wide, my face flaming. Had he actually just said that? Out loud? In his dad's house? "Don't you dare," I breathed looking mortified. "Don't you ever mention that again! And it's obvious you stay away from me!"

He chuckled, "And what if I have no intention of doing that, Lee?" he teased, his grin widening just enough to show a flash of perfect teeth.

"Because I always knew you liked me, Tyler," I retorted, desperation making me bold. "But I don't like you. You don't... You don't deserve my likeness." The words stumbled out, a desperate attempt to wound him, to put distance between us.

The humor vanished from his face as quickly as it had appeared. His eyes darkened and he took a slow, deliberate step towards me, then another. I took quick, jerky steps back, my heart pounding against my ribs. Each step he took, I retreated, until my back hit the wall with a soft thud.

I was trapped.

He leaned in, his tall, muscular frame caging me against the cool wall, his scent enveloped me. He was so close I could feel the heat radiating off his skin. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he moved his face closer to mine, his lips brushing my cheek, then tracing a path towards my neck.

It wasn't a kiss, it was a torture, a deliberate invasion of my personal space, like he was breathing me in, discovering every scent, every reaction. My breath hitched and my hands, without conscious thought, went up, pressing against his chest.

I was ready to risk it all, to push him away, to demand he stop, or maybe... maybe pull him closer. My eyes fluttered shut, caught in the intoxicating, terrifying moment.

Then, just as the tension was stretched to its absolute breaking point, he pulled away, suddenly and abruptly.

My eyes flew open, blinking rapidly, trying to make sense of the sudden emptiness where his body had been.

His fingers flicked my forehead.

My mouth fell open in shock. What the actual hell just happened?

He grinned, that infuriating, knowing smirk back in place. "See, Lee? It's obvious you're clearly into me. You should stop pretending."

And with that, he turned and walked away leaving me standing there, pressed against the wall, utterly speechless.