Chapter 4 Volunteer Chaos and Questionable Decisions

By Saturday morning, I was fully convinced I had made the worst mistake of my academic career.

Volunteers.

With Jace.

In public.

Whose idea was that?

…oh right. Mine.

I stood outside the student quad clutching a clipboard like it was a medieval shield. Students milled around—some lounging on the lawn, some skateboarding dangerously close to pedestrians, some carrying smoothies with confidence I did not personally have.

Jace, meanwhile, looked like he’d just stepped out of a recruitment poster titled “Join the Fun Side of College!” He lounged on a bench, sunglasses on, legs stretched out, holding a cardboard sign he made five minutes ago.

“FREE CANDY FOR PARTICIPATION”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “You’re going to get us arrested.”

“For what? Extreme generosity?”

“For being suspicious! You look like you’re promoting a scam.”

He grinned lazily. “A scam that works. Three people already came up.”

“They thought you were handing out candy, not conducting a research survey!”

“Details.”

I was regretting everything.

He took off his sunglasses and turned to me with an annoyingly bright smile. “Relax. Volunteers will be lining up once they hear it’s a personality thing. People love finding out if they’re secretly psychopaths or not.”

“We are NOT testing anyone for psychopathy.”

“Well, then they’ll be disappointed.”

I groaned. “Can you please try to act like a normal human being?”

“No promises.”

Before I could respond, a familiar voice shrieked, “AVA!”

I turned—just in time for Harper to crash into me, nearly knocking my clipboard into the fountain.

“You look alive,” she said with a dramatic sigh. “I was worried Jace had done something catastrophic.”

“Bold of you to assume he hasn’t,” I muttered.

Jace gave a playful salute. “Good morning to you too, Harper.”

She smirked. “Morning, Casanova.”

I choked.

Jace blinked. “Why am I Casanova?”

“Because you have that whole ‘I’m trouble but in a fun way’ vibe.” She leaned toward me, stage-whispering loudly enough that five people heard, “Ava likes them broody, but she’s in denial.”

I stepped on her foot.

Harper yelped. “OW! Okay, okay—I’ll behave!”

“Thank you,” I said through clenched teeth.

“You guys married or something?” a random guy walking past asked.

Jace beamed. “Working on it.”

I sputtered so violently I inhaled air wrong.

Harper patted my back. “Breathe, babe. Breathe.”

THIS. WAS. A. NIGHTMARE.

“Let’s just start,” I wheezed.

Jace stood and stretched, cracking his knuckles. “Showtime.”

We set up a table with clipboards, surveys, and candy—an idea of mine, thank you—and then the chaos began.

“Hi!” Harper shouted to the crowd. “Want to know how wrong your first impressions are? Come take a five-minute survey!”

This, unfortunately, worked.

Students lined up.

Jace took the lead because he had a magnetic personality I resented. He greeted everyone like he was hosting a game show.

“Welcome! Step right up! Judge a stranger—legally!”

I handled the actual data collection because I trusted myself and absolutely did not trust Jace with academic validity.

He smiled and flirted his way through half the quad.

I stress-organized pens and muttered under my breath like an exhausted mother of seven.

At one point, a girl with bright red hair approached the table and immediately zeroed in on Jace.

“Oh my god, hi,” she said, twirling her hair. “Didn’t I see you at the welcome party?”

Jace blinked. “Probably?”

She giggled. “You were the one teaching everyone that ridiculous TikTok dance.”

He snapped his fingers. “Yes! You were the girl who face-planted into the snack table.”

She turned crimson. “That’s me.”

Then she placed a hand on Jace’s arm.

HIS ARM.

My chest tightened in a weird, random, totally meaningless way.

Nope.

Not going there.

I casually—VERY casually—slammed a clipboard on the table.

They both startled.

“Survey,” I said sweetly. “Ready?”

Jace opened his mouth, but I smiled harder.

Harder.

He shut his mouth.

Red-Haired Girl took the clipboard and shot Jace a flirty smile before walking away.

He watched her go.

I resisted the urge to hurl a pen at his head.

“Someone’s popular,” Harper sang behind me.

“I don’t care,” I said.

“You care a little.”

“I care zero.”

“Ava,” she whispered, “your eyebrow is twitching.”

“It’s allergies.”

Harper snorted. “Allergies to what? Other girls talking to Jace?”

I considered throwing her into the fountain.

Two hours later, we’d collected a full list of participants, eaten half the candy, and mistakenly recruited a professor who thought we were selling fundraiser brownies.

(I did not correct him. Jace did. Loudly.)

Then, just as things were calming down, disaster struck.

Jace climbed onto the edge of the fountain to “get attention.”

I opened my mouth to tell him NOT TO DO THAT, but fate hates me.

His foot slipped.

He windmilled his arms.

I dropped my clipboard.

“OH MY GOD—”

Splash.

He fell straight backward into the fountain, legs flailing, water exploding upward like a dramatic movie scene.

The entire quad burst into laughter.

Harper screamed.

I froze, hands clamped over my mouth.

Jace surfaced with his hair plastered to his forehead, dripping, blinking through the water.

Then—because he is a menace—he pushed his wet hair back, smirked, and said:

“So… did I make a good first impression?”

I wheezed.

Actually wheezed.

People around us tore up laughing. Someone filmed it. Someone else shouted, “POST IT TO THE GROUP CHAT!”

Jace climbed out, squelching, shoes dripping puddles onto the concrete.

“You good?” he asked me.

“I—” I tried to speak, but laughter kept bursting out of me in humiliating little hiccups. “You—you fell—in the—oh my god—”

He wiggled his eyebrows. “Glad I could entertain you.”

“You look like a drowned guinea pig.”

“A sexy drowned guinea pig.”

I snorted so hard I bent over.

Once Harper finally stopped cackling and helped gather our things, we started walking back toward the dorms—Jace leaving a wet trail like a sad, overgrown puppy.

“You’re never living this down,” I said.

“Oh, I know,” he said proudly. “I committed. It was performance art.”

“You fell.”

“I FELL with style.”

I rolled my eyes, still smiling. “Please tell me you at least took the survey seriously.”

“Of course,” he said. “I filled it out while sitting in the fountain. My handwriting is a little waterlogged, though.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Yet here you are. Hanging out with me.”

“That’s because we’re partners.”

“Sure.” He shot me a sideways glance. “Just partners.”

Something fluttered low in my stomach.

Nope. No. No fluttering allowed.

I cleared my throat. “We should sort the data tomorrow.”

“Your place or mine?” he asked.

I blinked. “Your dorm is chaotic.”

“My roommate is gone until Monday.”

“Mine is not.”

“So mine, then,” he said with a triumphant nod.

I groaned. “Fine.”

He nudged my shoulder. “See? Not so bad.”

“You fell into a fountain.”

He shrugged. “All in the name of science.”

I laughed again—soft this time, quieter.

Less… defensive.

“Thanks,” Jace said out of nowhere.

“For what?”

“For today. For not ditching me. For… y’know. Doing this with me.”

Something warm bloomed in my chest.

Dangerously warm.

“You’re welcome,” I murmured.

We walked the rest of the way in a silence that wasn’t awkward.

Just… easy.

Which worried me more than anything else.

Because easy meant cracks. And cracks meant feelings.

And feelings?

Feelings were the one thing I swore I wouldn’t develop for Jace Rivera.

Too late, a tiny voice whispered.