The California sun beat down on Juliette's neck, making the collar of her t-shirt stick to her skin.

She gripped a printed gene-editing authorization form in her sweaty hand. She shoved her way through the dense crowd of the campus carnival.

A giant stuffed bear suddenly swung into her face. She swatted it away, her frustration peaking.

Then, she saw him.

Adrian stood by the shooting game booth. He wore a plain black t-shirt that stretched tight across his broad shoulders. He was staring down at a neon-orange plastic rifle in his hands, his brow furrowed in deep concentration.

Juliette marched up to the wooden counter. She slammed the authorization form down on the peeling paint.

"Sign it," she demanded, out of breath. "And send the data."

Adrian looked up. His dark eyes looked tired. He let out a heavy sigh and pointed to the digital scoreboard behind the booth operator.

It read a massive, blinking zero.

The booth operator, a guy with a thick beard, snorted loudly. "Worst aim I've ever seen, man. Didn't even clip the paper."

Juliette stared at the scoreboard. Then she looked at Adrian, the physics prodigy who supposedly never failed at anything. Her jaw went slack.

Adrian set the plastic gun down on the counter. He rubbed the back of his neck, looking completely defeated.

"I'm in a terrible mood," Adrian said, his voice flat. "I don't think I can accurately recall those complex gene sequences right now."

Juliette's stomach dropped. The data was slipping away.

She slammed both hands on the counter, leaning in. "What do you need? Coffee? A nap? Tell me."

Adrian looked at her hands, then up to her eyes. "Come with me to the indoor range off-campus. Let me get my pride back with a real gun. Then I'll email you everything."

The word 'range' hit Juliette like a physical blow.

Her spine locked up. The carnival noise faded, replaced by the phantom echo of a starting buzzer and the blinding glare of stadium lights. Her breathing hitched.

Adrian's eyes narrowed slightly as he watched her freeze.

He immediately picked up his phone, feigning indifference. "Never mind. We can talk another day."

He turned to walk away.

The thought of losing the data snapped Juliette out of her panic. She reached out and grabbed his wrist hard.

"Fine," she blurted out, her voice louder than necessary. "I'll go."

Adrian stopped. He didn't pull his arm away. Instead, he twisted his wrist, his large hand loosely wrapping around hers.

A tiny, triumphant smile touched the corner of his lips before he masked it. "Let's go."

Juliette followed him to the parking lot. She climbed into the passenger seat of his black SUV.

The interior smelled strongly of cedar and expensive leather. The scent grounded her slightly, easing the tight knot in her chest.

Twenty minutes later, they pulled into a high-end shooting club in the Los Angeles suburbs.

Juliette stared at the thick soundproof walls of the building. Her fingernails dug into the fabric of her seatbelt.

Adrian opened the heavy glass doors. The lobby was quiet, the gunfire muffled by the tactical barriers.

Gregory Bernard and Jax, already in their shooting gear, were waiting for their reserved lane on a leather sofa near the front desk, drinking energy drinks.

When they saw Adrian walk in with Juliette, Gregory choked, spraying his drink across the coffee table.

Gregory jumped up, wiping his mouth. He circled Adrian and Juliette, his eyes wide. "Castillo? You brought a girl to the range? Why?"

Adrian shot Gregory a cold, warning glare. "Shut up, Gregory."

Adrian walked to the front desk to register for a lane.

Juliette stood awkwardly by the sofa. She rubbed her arms, feeling the chill of the air conditioning. "I'm just here for an academic exchange. I hate shooting."

Gregory scoffed, leaning in close to her. "Good luck. His motor skills are a disaster. It's embarrassing."

Adrian walked back holding two pairs of safety glasses and earmuffs. He handed a set to Juliette.

As she took them, his fingers brushed against her temple. He gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

Juliette's breath caught in her throat. Her skin burned where he touched her. She quickly shoved the earmuffs onto her head to hide her red ears.

They walked into the active shooting bay. The smell of gunpowder hit Juliette's nose, making her stomach clench.

Adrian picked up a standard .22 caliber pistol. He stepped up to the line.

His shoulders were stiff. His grip on the gun was entirely wrong.

Juliette stood behind the yellow safety line. Her hands twitched. Every instinct in her body screamed to step forward and fix his terrible posture. She bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself.

Adrian took a deep breath. He pulled the trigger.

Bang. The shot went wide, punching a hole in the paper target's empty border, scoring a definitive zero but at least hitting the right zip code.

Gregory slapped the protective glass partition, howling with laughter. "Still completely useless, Castillo!"

Adrian slowly lowered the gun. He turned around to look at Juliette.

His dark eyes were wide, filled with a mixture of frustration and vulnerability. He looked like a kicked puppy waiting for a pat on the head.

Juliette looked at his flawless face. The last bit of her defensive wall crumbled.

She let out a soft sigh. He really was just a helpless nerd outside of a classroom.

Juliette opened her mouth, trying to find a comforting word for the humiliated genius.

Before she could speak, the sharp, rhythmic click of custom riding boots echoed over the concrete floor.

Blair Prescott-Vaughn strutted into the shooting bay. She wore a skin-tight, designer shooting vest that cost more than Juliette's entire tuition. Her sidekick, Sierra, trailed right behind her.

Blair's eyes locked onto Adrian immediately. A bright, practiced smile stretched across her face.

Then, her gaze shifted. She saw Juliette standing next to him in baggy cargo pants stained with greenhouse dirt.

Blair's smile froze.

Sierra stepped forward, dramatically pinching her nose. "Ugh. Why does it smell like cheap fertilizer in here?"

Juliette looked down at the dry mud caked on her pant leg. She shrugged, her mind already drifting back to the potato genome sequence.

Blair walked right up to Adrian, her voice dripping with honey. "Adrian. I didn't expect to see you here."

She leaned in, pressing her arm against his, making sure her chest brushed his bicep.

Adrian's face went completely blank. He took a smooth half-step backward, putting distance between them. He gave a single, tight nod.

Blair's face flushed with irritation. She spun around, aiming her frustration directly at Juliette.

"Are you lost?" Blair asked, looking Juliette up and down with pure disgust. "The community garden is three miles that way."

Juliette just wanted her data. She rubbed her forehead. "I'm just here with a friend. I'm leaving soon."

The word 'friend' made Blair's eyes flash with genuine anger.

Blair let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "Friend? Please. Ag-majors like you don't even know how to hold a gun, let alone belong in a club like this."

Gregory leaned against the partition, highly entertained. "Actually, Blair, Adrian brought her here himself."

Blair's jaw tightened. She marched over to her expensive leather case and snapped it open. She pulled out a heavily modified, competition-grade air pistol and slammed it onto the table.

"Let's play a game, then," Blair challenged, glaring at Juliette. "A ten-meter air pistol friendly match. You and me."

Juliette looked at the sleek black gun on the table.

Her stomach cramped violently. The phantom sound of a cheering crowd roared in her ears. She shook her head immediately. "No. I don't play stupid games."

Blair smirked, looking around at the other club members who had started to gather. "Look at the dirt-girl. Too scared to even touch it. You people really do just roll in the mud."

A few people in the crowd snickered. The judgmental stares felt heavy on Juliette's skin.

Juliette took a slow, deep breath, forcing the nausea down. She met Blair's eyes, her own gaze turning flat and cold. "What do you want?"

Blair walked back over to Adrian, her eyes shining with possessiveness. "If I win, you leave this club right now, and you never speak to Adrian again."

Juliette rolled her eyes. The childishness of it all was exhausting. She turned to leave.

"And if you win," Blair called out quickly, desperate to keep her audience, "you can ask for anything."

Juliette stopped dead in her tracks.

Her brain clicked. Blair's family controlled the largest agricultural fertilizer supply chain in California.

Juliette turned around slowly. Her eyes were sharp. "If I win, you deliver a pallet of premium experimental fertilizer to the university greenhouse. Free of charge."

Blair blinked, completely thrown off by the bizarre request. Then she threw her head back and laughed loudly. "Fine! Done."

Sierra chimed in from the back. "A match needs a real prize. The winner gets Adrian as a trophy."

Blair's eyes lit up. "Yes. The winner gets an exclusive dinner date with Adrian."

Every head in the bay snapped toward Adrian. Everyone knew the physics god never dated. They waited for him to explode and walk out.

Juliette frowned deeply. Treating a person like a poker chip made her skin crawl. She opened her mouth to tell Blair the bet was off.

A low, dark chuckle interrupted her.

The sound vibrated through the quiet bay. Adrian leaned against the counter, his eyes fixed entirely on Juliette.

He reached up and slowly unbuttoned the top button of his collar. His keen gaze had already swept over her earlier-the distinct, asymmetrical calluses on her right hand, the unconscious way she had perfectly squared her shoulders behind the safety line. He knew exactly what she was capable of.

"Fine," Adrian said, his voice smooth as glass.

The word hung in the air.

The entire shooting bay went dead silent. Blair's mouth fell open in shock.

Gregory violently rubbed his ear. "Did you lose your hearing, Castillo? You just agreed to be a piece of meat."

Adrian ignored him. He pushed off the counter and walked slowly toward Juliette.

He stopped inches from her. He looked down, trapping her gaze with his dark, intense stare.

He slipped both hands into his pockets. "If we're playing," Adrian said lazily, "one dinner is an insult."

Blair practically vibrated with excitement. She took a step forward. "What do you want to add, Adrian?"

Adrian didn't even glance at Blair. His eyes remained locked on Juliette's face.

"The winner," Adrian stated clearly, "gets me for three consecutive weekends. Full days."

A collective gasp ripped through the crowd of girls. Blair's face flushed a deep, victorious red.

Juliette stared up at Adrian like he had grown a second head. Her eyebrows pulled together in deep confusion. Why was he selling himself out?

She opened her mouth to reject the ridiculous terms.

Then, her brain did the math. Three weekends. Full days. That was seventy-two hours.

Seventy-two hours of uninterrupted access to the greatest mind in the physics department to discuss the CRISPR data.

Juliette's eyes widened. A spark of pure, manic excitement ignited in her chest. The hesitation vanished completely.

Adrian watched the exact moment the realization hit her. The corner of his mouth curved into a dark, satisfied smirk. The trap was set.

Blair saw Juliette's flushed face and scoffed. She thought Juliette was just another desperate fangirl.

Blair marched to the shooting stall. She slipped on a pair of custom pink earmuffs and signaled the operator to activate the electronic target.

"Rules are simple," Sierra announced loudly. "Ten shots. Highest total score wins. Loser gets out."

Juliette stood frozen behind the line. She stared at the black air pistol resting on the table.

Her fingers curled inward. Her palms were sweating. The suffocating weight of her past pressed down on her chest.

Adrian noticed the slight tremor in her hands.

He stepped forward, smoothly positioning his large frame between Juliette and the staring crowd. He created a physical wall, giving her a moment to breathe.

He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. "If you're scared, I can shut this down right now," he whispered.

Juliette's head snapped up. She bit her bottom lip hard, tasting copper. "No. I need that fertilizer. And I need those three days."

Blair looked over her shoulder and wiggled her fingers mockingly at Juliette. "Watch and learn, dirt-girl."

Blair raised her gun. She took a deep breath, settling into a rigid, textbook stance. Her eyes narrowed.

Bang.

The electronic screen above the lane flashed. 9.8.

The crowd clapped loudly.

Blair blew a nonexistent wisp of smoke from the barrel and smirked at Juliette.

Juliette stared at the screen. Her professional instincts flared to life, overriding her panic. Her wrist is too stiff, Juliette thought automatically.

Over the next eight shots, Blair fired with mechanical consistency. The screen flashed numbers between 9.5 and 10.2. It was an incredibly high score for an amateur.

The whispers in the crowd grew louder. Everyone agreed Juliette was already dead in the water.

Blair took a long breath for her final shot. She locked her elbow, aimed carefully, and pulled the trigger.

The screen blinked rapidly. 10.5.

The bay erupted. Sierra screamed in triumph. Blair lowered her gun, soaking in the admiration like a queen.

Blair walked over to the table and slammed her gun down. She pointed a manicured finger at Juliette.

"Your turn," Blair commanded. "Go embarrass yourself so you can leave."

Juliette stared at the gun. She took a shaky breath and prepared to step forward.

Right beside her, Adrian let out a heavy, dramatic sigh.