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.

The silence that followed the blackout was more terrifying than the thunder.

Brendon stood in the middle of the living room, his eyes straining to adjust. Outside, the rain began to lash against the windows with a sound like gravel.

Then, he heard it. A small, choked gasp from the hallway.

"Kiera?"

He moved toward the sound, his hands outstretched to avoid hitting the furniture.

"Kiera, where are you?"

"I... I can't..." her voice was small, trembling.

Another flash of lightning illuminated the hallway for a split second. Brendon saw her. She was huddled against the wall, her hands over her ears, her eyes wide with terror.

He didn't think. He didn't remember the pact or the rules or the "Ice Queen" mask.

He reached her in three strides.

"It's okay," he said, his voice low and steady. "I'm here."

As his hand touched her shoulder, she flinched violently. He didn't wait for permission; he just pulled her into his arms, turning her around so her face was pressed against his chest and her back was to the terrifying, flashing windows. She was shaking so hard he could feel her teeth chattering.

She didn't push him away. Instead, a choked sob escaped her, and her fingers latched onto his t-shirt, gripping the fabric so tightly her knuckles were white.

"I've got you," he whispered, his chin resting on the top of her head.

He led her back to the sofa, guided by the intermittent flashes of lightning. They sat down, and Kiera immediately curled into his side, refusing to let go.

"Don't leave," she whispered into his chest. "Please, Brendon. Don't leave me in the dark."

The words hit him like a physical blow. She wasn't just talking about the blackout.

"I'm not going anywhere," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I promise."

He held her for a long time, the storm raging outside. In the darkness, the last year seemed to melt away. They weren't the "Simp" and the "Ice Queen." They were just Brendon and Kiera, two broken pieces that finally fit together again.

Kiera's breathing eventually began to slow. Her grip on his shirt loosened, but she didn't move away. She felt warm against him, her scent of vanilla filling his senses.

Brendon closed his eyes. He knew that when the lights came back on, the walls would go back up. She would remember the hurt, and he would remember the secrets.

But for now, in the dark, he could pretend. He could pretend that he'd never left, and that she'd never stopped loving him.

He tightened his hold on her, and for the first time in a year, Brendon Hampton felt like he could finally breathe.