Cassandra wasn't in the mood for distractions, but somehow, distractions always found her.
It started early that morning, when her alarm didn't go off, and she woke up to the sound of her roommate's hairdryer. Glancing at the clock, she bolted upright. Her first class was in fifteen minutes.
"Great," she muttered, throwing on the first outfit she could grab—a sweater that was too big and jeans that hadn't seen daylight in weeks. She barely had time to brush her hair before dashing out of the dorm, her bag bouncing awkwardly against her back.
The campus was already alive with students, and Cassandra did her best to weave through the crowd. But just as she reached the steps to her lecture hall, her sneaker caught on something—probably air, because that's how her luck worked—and she tripped, landing flat on her face.
"Smooth," a voice said from above her.
She groaned, lifting her head to see Jackson standing there, his expression halfway between concern and amusement.
"Don't say it," she warned, pushing herself up.
"I wasn't going to," he said, smirking. "But since you brought it up, maybe you should watch where you're going."
Cassandra narrowed her eyes at him. "Thanks for the advice, Mr. Helpful."
He offered her a hand, and after a moment's hesitation, she took it. As he pulled her to her feet, she noticed the faintest trace of a grin on his face.
"Why are you even here?" she asked, brushing dirt off her sweater.
"Same reason you are. Class," he said, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "Though I managed to make it here without kissing the pavement."
She glared at him, but a smile tugged at her lips despite herself. "You're hilarious. Really."
"I try."
They walked into the building together, and Cassandra couldn't help but notice how relaxed Jackson seemed. It was a side of him she didn't see often—most of the time, he looked like he was carrying the weight of the world.
The lecture was as dull as Cassandra expected. The professor droned on about something she couldn't care less about, and her notes were more doodles than actual writing. Jackson, on the other hand, looked like he was genuinely interested, nodding along as if the professor were revealing the secrets of the universe.
"Are you seriously paying attention to this?" she whispered.
"Some of us like to learn," he whispered back without looking at her.
She rolled her eyes and leaned back in her chair, letting her gaze wander around the room. That's when she saw Matilda sitting a few rows ahead, her head tilted just enough to make it clear she was eavesdropping.
Cassandra smirked. If Matilda wanted a show, she'd give her one.
Leaning closer to Jackson, she whispered, "You know, you could try smiling once in a while. It won't kill you."
Jackson gave her a sidelong glance. "What are you doing?"
"Helping you loosen up," she said, her voice just loud enough for Matilda to hear. "You're too serious all the time."
Jackson sighed. "I'm fine the way I am, thanks."
"Are you, though?" she teased.
Matilda shifted in her seat, and Cassandra bit back a laugh. She didn't have to look at the other girl to know she was fuming.
After class, Jackson walked her to the cafeteria, his expression still mildly annoyed.
"What was that about?" he asked as they stood in line for coffee.
"What was what about?" she said, playing innocent.
"You know what. The whole… whatever that was in class."
Cassandra shrugged. "Just having a little fun. You should try it sometime."
"I have fun," he said defensively.
"Sure you do," she said, grinning.
Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of someone yelling. They turned to see a student waving their arms wildly, a cup of coffee spilling all over the floor.
"Careful!" the barista shouted.
The student tried to mop up the spill with a stack of napkins, but it only made things worse. Cassandra couldn't hold back a laugh, and even Jackson cracked a smile.
"See?" she said, nudging him. "You do have a sense of humor."
Jackson shook his head, but the smile stayed on his face.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of classes and small annoyances. Cassandra lost her pen, tripped over a chair in the library, and accidentally walked into the men's bathroom. By the time evening rolled around, she was ready to call it a day.
But fate had other plans.
As she walked back to her dorm, she noticed a crowd gathered near the fountain in the center of campus. Curious, she wandered over to see what was happening.
"What's going on?" she asked a girl standing nearby.
"Some kind of prank," the girl said, pointing.
Cassandra followed her gaze and burst out laughing. Someone had filled the fountain with soap, and giant bubbles were spilling out onto the grass.
"This is amazing," Cassandra said, pulling out her phone to take a picture.
As she snapped the photo, she noticed Jackson standing on the edge of the crowd, his arms crossed. She made her way over to him, still grinning.
"Let me guess," she said. "You don't think this is funny."
"It's childish," he said, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice.
"Childish is good sometimes," she said. "You could use a little childish in your life."
Jackson rolled his eyes. "You're impossible."
"And you're boring," she shot back.
They stood there for a moment, watching as students laughed and played in the soapy mess. For once, the campus felt carefree, like the weight of exams and deadlines had been lifted, if only for a little while.
"Come on," Cassandra said, grabbing his arm.
"What are you doing?" he asked as she dragged him toward the fountain.
"Living a little," she said.
Before he could protest, she scooped up a handful of bubbles and tossed them at him.
"Cassandra!" he exclaimed, wiping the suds off his face.
She laughed so hard she had to clutch her sides. "You should see your face!"
Jackson glared at her, but his attempt at seriousness was ruined by the smile tugging at his lips.
"Fine," he said, grabbing a handful of bubbles. "You asked for it."
Cassandra squealed as he flung the suds at her, and soon they were both caught in a full-on bubble war. Students around them cheered and joined in, turning the entire scene into chaos.
For the first time in a long time, Cassandra felt something close to joy.
By the time they finally left the fountain, they were soaked and laughing.
"You're a terrible influence," Jackson said as they walked back to the dorms.
"And you love it," Cassandra said, grinning.
He shook his head, but he didn't deny it.
As they reached her building, Cassandra turned to him, her smile softening. "Thanks for today. I needed it."
Jackson gave her a curious look. "Needed what?"
"A reminder that life isn't all bad," she said.
He nodded, and for a moment, they stood in comfortable silence. Then he gave her a small, genuine smile.
"Goodnight, Cass."
"Goodnight, Jackson."
As she watched him walk away, Cassandra felt a warmth in her chest that she hadn't felt in years. For the first time, she wondered if her plan for revenge was worth it.
But then the memory of her parents' faces came rushing back, and the warmth was replaced by cold resolve.
She had a mission to complete, and nothing—not even Jackson—could stand in her way.