CHAPTER ONE — ARRIVAL
Tony arrived on campus carrying a suitcase he pretended wasn't too heavy.
He told himself this was symbolic. New weight. New life. In reality, it was full of clothes he didn't yet deserve to wear.
The campus looked expensive in a way that made him uncomfortable. Old buildings, deliberate paths, students who walked as if they'd been expected. Tony dragged his suitcase behind him, the wheels rattling too loudly, announcing his arrival like an apology.
He stopped in the courtyard and did what he did best: watched.
Women moved through the space like punctuation marks—decisive, placed, necessary. Tony noticed details he pretended were accidental. The way one girl laughed without covering her mouth. The way another ignored someone calling her name. Confidence here wasn't loud. It was assumed.
Tony felt underdressed in himself.
A group of guys passed him, voices overlapping, plans already forming. One of them clapped another on the back and said, "Bro, this year's gonna be insane."
Tony believed him. He just didn't think he was included.
He checked his phone without unlocking it. A habit. A shield. There were no messages. There rarely were. Still, it felt important to look occupied. Wanted. Temporarily unavailable.
Desire crept in the way it always did—uninvited, elaborate, cinematic. Tony's mind was generous where reality was not. In his imagination, rooms leaned toward him. Conversations slowed. Women noticed the space between his words. Men recalculated their tone.
In real life, a girl brushed past him without apology.
"Sorry," Tony said automatically.
She didn't hear him. Or she did and didn't care. Tony added that to the list of lessons he was compiling without consent.
His dorm room smelled like cleaning chemicals and ambition. Bare walls. Narrow bed. A desk positioned like a challenge. He unpacked slowly, arranging his books first—philosophy, economics, a novel he hadn't finished but liked being seen with. He placed them carefully, like they could speak for him when he couldn't.
His roommate arrived mid-ritual.
"Yo," the guy said, dropping his bag. "You Tony?"
Tony nodded.
"I'm Mark. Orientation's in, like, ten minutes. You going?"
Tony hesitated just long enough to seem thoughtful instead of terrified.
"Yeah," he said. "Probably."
Mark shrugged. "Cool. People are already pregaming, by the way."
That word—pregaming—landed like a rumor Tony wasn't sure he believed.
As Mark left, Tony sat on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Somewhere down the hall, music thumped. Laughter leaked through the walls. The campus was warming up without him.
He stood, caught his reflection in the mirror. Same face. Same careful eyes. Same hunger he never talked about.
Money. Power. Fame. Women.
Not because he was greedy.
Because he was tired of being invisible.
Tony straightened his jacket and practiced an expression that said I belong here without inviting questions.
Outside, the campus moved around him effortlessly.
Tony stepped into it anyway.