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.

Adrian's low sigh cut through the cheering crowd.

Juliette turned her head. Adrian was looking down at the floor, his brow heavily furrowed in a mask of pure distress.

He leaned down, his shoulder brushing against hers.

"I despise people who bathe in perfume," Adrian whispered, his voice laced with genuine misery.

Juliette blinked. She inhaled instinctively. The cloying, heavy scent of Blair's custom rose perfume burned the back of her throat.

Adrian shifted closer. The heat radiating from his chest seeped through her thin shirt.

"If I have to spend three weekends with her," Adrian murmured, his voice suddenly sounding incredibly fragile, "my sinuses will swell shut. I won't be able to spell a single gene sequence for you."

That sentence hit Juliette's brain like a lightning bolt.

Her experimental data was in danger. Her eyes sharpened instantly, the fear evaporating into pure, protective rage over her research.

Adrian watched the fire ignite in her eyes. He pushed a little harder. "Besides, her stance looked sloppy to me. Pure luck."

Adrian's words cut through the thick fog of her panic. He was right. The sheer incompetence on display was an insult to the sport she once loved. She forced the violent tremors in her hands to still, taking a slow, grounding breath. She channeled the suffocating fear into a cold, analytical rage. Juliette scoffed loudly, her professional arrogance completely taking over. "Her breathing rhythm is entirely wrong. And her wrist micro-twitches right before the break."

A dark gleam flashed in Adrian's eyes. "If you see the flaws, go up there and break her ego."

Juliette's fire dimmed slightly as she looked back at the gun. She rubbed her temples. "I haven't touched a grip in years."

Blair stood ten feet away, hands on her hips. "Are you begging him to save you? Just forfeit and get out!"

Sierra laughed loudly. "If you get on your knees and apologize, maybe we'll just take the guy and let you go."

Juliette's stubborn pride flared violently. Her hands balled into tight fists. She glared at Blair.

"Are you really going to let her take your fertilizer?" Adrian whispered softly, the ultimate bait.

That did it.

Juliette marched toward the shooting stall.

She stood in front of the table. She stared down at the black metal. She took a deep breath and reached out. Her fingers were trembling so badly she could barely keep them straight.

Just as her skin was about to touch the metal, a large, warm hand covered hers completely.

Juliette gasped and spun her head around.

Adrian was standing directly behind her. There was zero space between them. His chest was pressed firmly against her back.

"Since you're a beginner," Adrian's deep voice vibrated against her neck, "let the 'theory master' show you the ropes."

The crowd gasped. Blair's face turned purple. "You can't help her! That's cheating!"

Adrian didn't even look at Blair. His eyes were fixed on Juliette's trembling hand. "I'm only adjusting her grip. I won't touch the trigger. Standard beginner rules."

The range officer, intimidated by Adrian's cold aura, nodded nervously. "Grip correction is allowed."

Blair ground her teeth. "Fine! Hold her hand all you want. A loser is still a loser."

Adrian ignored the noise. He wrapped both of his arms around Juliette's waist, caging her against the table.

Juliette's brain short-circuited.

The panic of the gun vanished, entirely replaced by the overwhelming scent of cedar and the solid wall of muscle pressed against her spine. Her heart hammered wildly against her ribs.

Adrian lowered his head. His jaw rested lightly against her shoulder.

"Breathe," he commanded softly.

His long fingers slowly pried her stiff, trembling fingers open. He guided her hand down, wrapping it around the textured grip of the pistol.

His thumb intentionally brushed across the sensitive skin of her palm. A jolt of electricity shot straight up Juliette's arm.

To the crowd, it looked like a romantic, clumsy lesson.

To Juliette, it was sensory overload.

"Your shoulder is too tight," Adrian murmured, his lips brushing the shell of her ear.

Juliette sucked in a sharp breath. She forced her eyes away from his hands and stared straight down the lane at the paper target.

The noise of the crowd faded. The smell of perfume vanished.

The cold metal in her hand suddenly felt like an extension of her own arm. The fear drained out of her, replaced by a terrifying, icy calm.