THE GREAT CAMPUS ESCAPE

THYME'S POV:

Khun Ahan Yimgin.

My full name. Out of her mouth. How did she know my full name?

The question hammered in my brain, and the crowd of girls suddenly felt less like a fan club and more like an interrogation squad. This was planned.

I forced my lips into a smile, though my hands were balled into fists at my sides. "Yes, that's me. Can I help you?" Just be polite. Smile. Maybe they'll leave me alone.

"Thyme, are you trying to ditch us?" Dom's voice appeared behind me, but he trailed off when he saw the wall of girls I was facing.

The leader ignored him and got straight to the point. "Are you Meta's Boyfriend?"

The question landed like a punch to the gut. Are they serious?

"No, I'm not!" The denial flew out of my mouth, probably way too fast.

"I don't believe you," another girl snapped. "Meta only has three friends, all from Engineering."

"I..." How was I supposed to explain this? I couldn't just tell a bunch of strangers the embarrassing truth.

"She's right!" another one chimed in. "We've been Meta's admirers since high school. We've never seen you before. What's your deal with him?"

Their faces were getting uglier, the questions sharper.

"I'm not his b—" I tried again, but it felt like they were closing in, their combined presence sucking the air out of my lungs. They were actually starting to scare me.

I made a split-second decision. I grabbed Dom and Lance.

"Sorry, guys, help me!" I yanked them forward, using them as a human barrier between me and the girls, and then I just ran.

"Hey! Don't run away!" a chorus of furious shouts erupted behind me.

Shit, they were fast. What do these girls eat for breakfast? They were keeping up. Just as I thought things couldn't get worse, I saw them: another group waiting outside my faculty building. My own admirers.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," I muttered, my brain going into overdrive. What do I do? What do I do?

"That's Thyme, guys!" one of them shouted. They saw me.

Now both groups were running, closing in from two directions. I was the prize in a campus-wide game of tag I didn't sign up for. I wasn't planning on doing parkour today, but I was seriously considering it.

I saw the football field—a huge stretch of green. Open space. Go.

I sprinted for the chain-link fence and scrambled over it, hoping it would slow them down. No such luck. Some of them peeled off to find another way around while others, unbelievably, just climbed the fence right after me, their angry shouts echoing across the field. My admirers weren't far behind, a weird mix of hopeful and creepy, but all of them surprisingly athletic.

I dodged and weaved through a football practice, players scattering in confusion.

"Move!" I yelled, my voice cracking.

They stared at me like I was a madman, which felt like an improvement over whatever rumors were going around. Then, through the chaos, I saw him. The source of all this. Meta.

He was in a soccer uniform, part of the team. Of course he was. He looked completely calm, which just made me angrier. My first instinct was to stop and scream at him, but the roar of the mob behind me was a pretty good reminder that I should keep moving.

He saw me. His eyes, still way too intense, widened a little. "Hey, Snotty Kid, what are you doing here?" he called out, his voice annoyingly casual.

"No time to explain!" I screeched, and without thinking, I grabbed his arm. It felt like solid rock. I yanked him with all my strength. "Run!"

"Wait! What are you—" He tried to resist, but then he looked over my shoulder and saw the stampede heading for us. For a split second, something like understanding—maybe even alarm—flickered in his eyes.

Then he was running with me, matching my pace.

"Hey! Meta, where are you going?!" one of his teammates yelled, but we just kept running. When you have a hundred people chasing you, you don't stop to explain. You just run like hell.

"Need my bag," Meta said between breaths. I nodded. He pulled me toward a bench, snagged his bag in one smooth motion, and then jerked his head toward the parking lot. "This way."

I followed, confused, until I saw it. A sleek, black sedan that screamed money. A BMW. This guy drives a BMW? Of course he does. This was our getaway car. My life was officially a joke.

"What are you staring at? Get in," Meta's voice snapped me back. Right. Running. Not the time to be impressed by a car.

"Yeah... sorry," I mumbled and slid into the passenger seat. I shut the door so carefully you'd think it was made of glass. My monthly allowance probably wouldn't cover a scratch on the paint.

"Why so tense?" Meta asked, a smirk in his voice. He knew. Who wouldn't be tense in a car that cost more than my entire education? One wrong move and I'd be in his debt forever.

"Just drive!" I urged, looking out the window. "They're coming! Your fans will know your car!"

"Where to?" he asked, still ridiculously calm.

"Anywhere! Just go before they catch us!"

"Okay," he said, and the engine purred to life with a low rumble.

"Hey, drive! Now!" I could see them, his fans and my admirers, a terrifying combined mob, pouring into the parking lot.

"Calm down," Meta said, that infuriating cool never cracking. "They won't catch us."

I was anything but calm. This was all his fault! Or... was it mine? I wanted to bang my head on the dashboard, but everything looked too expensive to break. This was definitely not a dream.

Meta finally hit the gas, and the car surged forward, leaving the screaming crowd behind.

"Shit!" The word just exploded out of me, a mix of relief and leftover panic. I slapped a hand over my mouth, horrified.

"Is that your favorite word?" Meta asked, a full-on grin spreading across his face.

"No! I just—I get nervous when you're around, and I said—" I clamped my hand over my mouth again. Damn it, Thyme! Stop talking!

"This is so embarrassing," I whispered to myself, my cheeks on fire. Meta just started laughing.

Yesterday I hadn't really looked at him, but this close, it was impossible to ignore how handsome he was. But his laugh was... off. It wasn't a nice laugh. It was the kind of laugh that made a shiver run down my spine. Handsome, but in a scary, devilish way.

"Oh, so you get nervous?" he started, his eyes glinting.

"Don't you dare finish that sentence!" I cut him off.

"Relax, Snotty Kid," he chuckled. "I was just going to say that I can look pretty scary sometimes. Maybe that's why."

"Oh. Right," I said, trying to act like that's what I'd thought he meant.

"Were you thinking something else?" he pushed, the smirk returning.

"Can you please just focus on driving?" I snapped.

He laughed again but thankfully dropped it. I had no idea where we were going, only that it was far away from the mob that had taken over my life.