Chapter 3

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.