Brendon sat in the dark kitchen, a glass of Macallan 12 in his hand. The amber liquid burned his throat, but it was the only thing that made him feel warm.

He heard the creak of a door. Kiera walked into the kitchen, wearing a silk robe over her pajamas. She stopped when she saw him.

"Drinking alone?" she asked, her voice devoid of emotion.

"It's a Hampton tradition," Brendon replied, raising his glass. "Want one?"

Kiera walked to the sink and filled a glass with water. "No thanks. I like to keep my head clear."

"Must be nice," he muttered.

He watched her as she drank. The way her throat moved as she swallowed. The way a single drop of water escaped the corner of her mouth and ran down her chin.

"Why Gloria?" she asked suddenly.

Brendon paused, his glass halfway to his lips. "What?"

"Of all the girls at this university. Why her? She's everything you used to hate. She's shallow, she's obsessed with status, and she treats people like accessories."

Brendon leaned back in his chair. "That's exactly why I chose her."

Kiera frowned. "I don't understand."

"She was easy, Kiera. She didn't require any effort. She didn't want my soul. She just wanted my credit card and a guy to look good in her selfies. Being with her was like being on anesthesia. I didn't have to feel anything."

Kiera looked at him, her eyes searching his face. "So you used her."

"We used each other," Brendon said. "But it didn't work. The anesthesia wore off."

Kiera set her glass down. She walked over to the table and sat across from him. "You're a mess, Brendon."

"I know," he said.

"This whole thing... us living together... it's toxic. We're just going to keep hurting each other until there's nothing left."

"Probably," Brendon agreed.

"So let's make a pact," she said. "No more talking about the past. No more 'I'm sorrys.' No more explaining. We just coexist until the semester is over. And then we walk away and never look back."

Brendon looked at her. He saw the wall she'd built around herself, and he knew he was the one who had provided the bricks.

"Okay," he said. "A pact. No past. No feelings."

Kiera stood up. She looked like she wanted to say something else, but she stopped herself.

"Goodnight, Brendon."

"Goodnight, Kiera."

As she walked away, Brendon noticed something. She was still wearing the small, silver necklace he'd given her for her eighteenth birthday. It was a tiny treble clef, barely visible against her skin.

She hadn't thrown it away.

And as long as she was wearing it, Brendon knew the pact was already broken.

While Brendon was nursing his whiskey, a very different conversation was happening across campus at the Delta Gamma house.

Gloria Talley was sitting on her four-poster bed, a thick charcoal mask covering her face. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she was clutching a silk pillow as if it were a weapon.

"He's playing a game, Hettie," Gloria said, her voice muffled by the mask. "He has to be. Nobody just walks out on me at Le Coucou."

Hettie Obrien, Gloria's best friend and self-appointed lieutenant, was sitting on the floor, meticulously painting her toenails a shade called 'Billionaire Pink.'

"It's a power move," Hettie said, not looking up. "Think about it. He's been your lapdog for months. He's probably tired of being the 'Simp.' He wants to see if you'll chase him."

Gloria sat up, her eyes wide. "Chase him? I don't chase. I'm the prize."

"Exactly," Hettie said. "But he's a Hampton. They're used to winning. By walking out, he's trying to shift the dynamic. He wants you to feel insecure so that when he finally 'forgives' you, you'll be more compliant."

Gloria considered this. It made sense in her world. Everything was a transaction, every relationship a negotiation.

"But his tone," Gloria whispered. "He looked right through me... like I was nothing."

Hettie waved a hand dismissively. "Acting. He's a good actor. He probably practiced that look in the mirror for an hour. And the cold shoulder thing? It's a classic negging technique. He's trying to lower your self-esteem."

Gloria felt a surge of relief. "So he's not actually done with me?"

"Please," Hettie snorted. "He's obsessed with you. Did you see the way he looked at you at the Zeta formal? He looked like he wanted to eat you alive. Men don't just stop feeling that way overnight."

Gloria reached for her phone. She looked at the blocked status on her messages. "Then why did he block me?"

"To make you panic," Hettie said. "And it worked. Look at you. You're a mess. Tomorrow, we're going to find out where he moved. I heard a rumor he's at The Kensington."

"The Kensington?" Gloria's nose wrinkled. "That's so far from the Greek row."

"He's hiding," Hettie said. "He wants to see if you'll go looking for him. We'll go there tomorrow afternoon. We'll 'accidentally' be in the area for a coffee run. When he sees you, he'll fold like a house of cards."

Gloria smiled, the charcoal mask cracking around her mouth. "You're right. He's just a boy. And I'm Gloria Talley."

She didn't see the way Hettie's eyes flickered with a brief moment of annoyance. Hettie didn't actually care if Brendon came back. She just wanted Gloria to stop crying so they could go to the club.

"I'll get him a gift," Gloria decided. "Something expensive. But I'll make sure the bill goes to his father's office. That'll show him I'm still in control."

"Perfect," Hettie said. "Now, can we please get dressed? The party started twenty minutes ago."

Gloria stood up and headed for the bathroom to wash off her mask. She felt powerful again. She was the Queen, and Brendon Hampton was just a rebellious subject who needed to be reminded of his place.

She had no idea that at that very moment, Brendon was watching Kiera Richards sleep through the crack in her bedroom door, his heart breaking in a way that Gloria Talley could never understand.

The next afternoon, the sky over Manhattan turned a bruised, sickly purple. A heavy humidity hung in the air, the kind that preceded a violent storm.

Inside Unit 4B, the tension was just as thick.

Kiera was sitting at the dining table, a stack of papers in front of her. Brendon was on the sofa, a textbook open on his lap, but his eyes were on her.

"I finished the agreement," Kiera said, not looking up.

She slid a piece of paper across the table. Brendon got up and picked it up.

1. No guests without 24-hour notice.

2. Quiet hours start at 10 PM.

3. No use of the other person's personal items (this includes the Netflix account, Brendon).

4. Absolute secrecy. No one can know we live together.

Brendon read the last one twice. "Absolute secrecy? Why? Are you ashamed of me?"

Kiera finally looked at him. Her eyes were hard. "I'm a freshman, Brendon. I'm trying to rebuild my life. If people find out I'm living with the 'Simp of Sigma Chi,' I'll never be taken seriously. Especially in the music department."

"The Simp," Brendon repeated, the words tasting like ash. "Is that what you call me?"

"That's what everyone calls you," she said. "I don't want to be part of your circus."

Brendon signed the paper without another word. He felt a sudden, sharp anger. He wanted to tell her that he was doing this for her. He wanted to tell her that he was protecting her from the fallout of his family's crimes.

But he'd made a pact. No past.

A low rumble of thunder shook the windows. Kiera flinched, her hand flying to the edge of the table.

Brendon noticed. He remembered. Kiera had always been terrified of storms. When they were together, she used to hide under the covers, and he would play her favorite movies until she fell asleep.

"It's just a storm, Kiera," he said, his voice softening.

"I know what it is," she snapped, though her face had gone pale.

She began gathering her papers with frantic movements. Another bolt of lightning flashed outside, followed almost instantly by a deafening crack of thunder.

The lights in the apartment flickered.

Kiera froze. Her breathing became shallow and fast.

"Kiera?" Brendon stood up.

"I'm fine," she whispered, though she was clearly anything but.

She turned and headed for her room, but as she reached the hallway, the lights flickered one last time and then died completely.

The apartment was plunged into total, suffocating darkness.