The Parking Lot Claim

LYDIA’S POV

The cold wind bit into my cheeks as I hurried past the science building. I spent the last three hours mastering the exhausting art of evasion. After walking away from Enzo in the quad, I deliberately skipped my usual routes. I took the poorly lit back stairwells. Kept my head down. Forced my AirPods in without bothering to turn on any music. Whispers already clung to my back like static electricity. I just needed to reach the edge of the parking lot where Cassian told me to wait. If I could get to his car, I could survive the day.

"Lydia." The voice cut through the ambient noise of slamming car doors.

I didn't stop.

"Lydia, please."

I stopped. My boots dragged against the concrete. I pivoted on my heel.

Enzo stood ten feet away. He looked wrecked. Not his usual calculated, messy golden-boy aesthetic. Actual physical exhaustion painted dark shadows under his eyes. His jaw was locked tight. His broad shoulders slouched forward. He took a cautious step toward me, treating me like a feral dog about to bolt.

"Can we just talk?" Enzo pleaded, holding both hands up in surrender. "Five minutes. That's all I'm asking."

"You had ten years to talk," I replied. My voice was dead flat.

He flinched. "I know I fucked up. I was selfish. I just thought... you were always there, Lydia. You were my constant. I never thought I had to fight to keep you around. I figured you'd wait for me to get my shit together."

"That's exactly why we're done," I said quietly. "You never fought for me."

Enzo dragged a shaking hand through his hair, pacing a tight circle. "Last night was a mistake. Last night meant nothing."

I stared directly into his eyes. "You didn't seem confused while you were doing it."

His jaw flexed. "Blair doesn't mean anything to me."

Bitter irony bubbled in my throat. I let out a dry, harsh laugh. "But I do?"

"Yes!" Enzo burst out, his voice cracking. "You always have!"

I ruthlessly crushed down the tiny, pathetic tremor in my chest. "Then why did I have to listen to you fuck her through a thin bedroom wall? Why did I have to sit on my bed and pretend my chest wasn't caving in?"

Enzo swallowed hard. "I was distracted," he repeated, desperate now. "The pressure of the season, the scouts watching the team, my dad breathing down my neck about law school. I wasn't thinking straight."

"Ten years, Enzo," I said softly. "You’ve been 'not thinking straight' for ten years."

His expression shifted. The frantic pleading melted into something colder. Calculating. "And you think you're thinking straight now? By moving into an apartment with Cassian Mercer?"

He stepped closer, closing the distance. "Do you have any idea who that guy actually is? Cassian doesn't do charity. He doesn't breathe without a calculated reason. He's a manipulator. Every move he makes is strategic. You're just a pawn to him. He gets off on messing with my life and putting you in the middle of it."

"That's rich coming from you," I muttered.

"I'm dead serious." Enzo’s eyes darkened with genuine frustration. "He cares about control. You think the massive scene he caused this morning was a coincidence? He wanted the whole campus to see it. He used you to send a message."

My stomach tightened into a hard knot. Part of me knew Enzo was telling the truth. But I refused to back down and let him win. "At least he didn't humiliate me," I shot back.

"You're making a massive mistake," Enzo warned. "He's not safe."

"And you are?" I asked.

Silence hung heavy between us. Then, the low, throaty growl of a matte black engine sliced through the tense air. Every nerve ending in my body snapped to attention. Cassian’s car coasted into the parking lot. Right on time. Like always.

Heads whipped around. Footsteps stopped abruptly. Phones immediately lifted into the air. I spotted Blair standing near the entrance of the lot with two of her sorority sisters, glaring daggers in my direction. The parking lot was rapidly transforming into an arena.

Enzo stiffened, his posture going rigid. "See?" he spat. "Right on cue."

I stared at the approaching car. The campus narrative was writing itself in real time. Poor, indecisive scholarship girl caught in a tug-of-war between the hockey elite. I was sick of being the victim.

I took a deliberate step toward the curb.

"Lydia, don't," Enzo ordered. He reached out and grabbed my wrist. His heavy fingers dug deep into my skin.

That physical touch broke the last frayed thread of my patience. I ripped my arm out of his grip.

Cassian’s car stopped directly in front of me. The tinted window slid down smoothly.

"You're early," Cassian said. His face was an unreadable mask of cool indifference.

"Lydia, stop acting stupid," Enzo snarled, stepping up right behind me. His fingers brushed against my wrist again.

I didn't think. I reacted.

I yanked the heavy passenger door open. Instead of sliding into the leather seat, I planted my boots firmly on the pavement. I leaned my upper body straight across the center console, grabbed the thick collar of Cassian’s hoodie in both fists, and smashed my mouth hard against his.

A collective gasp erupted from the onlookers around the lot.

For a fraction of a second, Cassian went rigid. I felt the pure shock rock through his solid chest under my hands.

Then, the trap snapped shut.

Cassian’s large hand shot up, his thick fingers diving deep into the hair at the back of my skull. He gripped my roots hard, locking my head firmly in place. He kissed me back.

It wasn't a soft, performative kiss. It was aggressive and demanding. His lips parted mine with zero hesitation, his wet tongue pushing deep into my mouth. He tasted like mint and dark coffee. The hot slide of his tongue tangled aggressively with mine, claiming the inside of my mouth. He sucked hard on my lower lip, his teeth scraping against the sensitive flesh, forcing my mouth wider so he could thrust deeper.

My original plan evaporated into thin air. This was supposed to be a visual strike against Enzo. A tactical weapon. But Cassian stripped the weapon right out of my hands and turned it into raw, undeniable physical dominance.

His free hand clamped down hard on my waist. His large fingers dug into my hip, hauling my body further inside the car. My knees collided heavily with the edge of the leather seat. I was draped across the center console, my breasts crushed flat against the hard wall of his chest. I tightened my fists in the fabric of his hoodie, desperate for leverage as his mouth devoured mine. The friction of his tongue sliding against mine sent a heavy, pooling heat straight between my thighs.

A soft, wet moan escaped the back of my throat.

The tiny sound vibrated right against his lips.

Cassian broke the kiss. He pulled back an inch, moving agonizingly slow. His breathing was heavy, the air rushing harsh through his nose. His gray-blue eyes were blown wide, the pupils swallowing the irises. They burned with a dark, territorial possessiveness that made my lungs seize.

His rough thumb dragged slowly across my lower lip, wiping away the slick sheen of our mixed saliva. He released his grip on my hair.

The silence outside the car was deafening.

Cassian shifted his gaze. He looked past my shoulder. Straight at Enzo.

The raw heat in Cassian’s eyes instantly froze into lethal ice. He shoved his driver’s side door open and stepped out onto the asphalt. He didn't rush. He walked around the hood of the car with the predatory, unhurried grace of a wolf cornering its prey.

Enzo stood his ground, but I saw the micro-tremor in his hands. He was terrified.

Cassian stopped mere inches from Enzo’s chest. The physical difference was undeniable. Cassian towered over him, practically radiating violence.

"The lady told you to leave her alone," Cassian said evenly. His voice was deathly quiet.

Enzo swallowed hard. He didn't say a word.

Cassian leaned in a fraction of an inch. "Leave. Her. Alone." Each word hit the air like a controlled detonation. "Don't make me force you to."

Enzo's fists clenched tight at his sides. He wanted to swing. But he knew Cassian would destroy him. Cassian held the stare for three grueling seconds. Then, he turned his back on Enzo, dismissing him like irrelevant garbage on the pavement.

Cassian walked back to the car, folded his large frame into the driver's seat, and slammed the door shut.

I barely had time to yank my legs fully inside and shut the passenger door before he hit the gas. The tires screeched. The campus blurred into streaks of brick and green as we tore out of the parking lot onto the main road.

My reflection in the passenger window stared back at me. My cheeks were flushed crimson. My lips looked thoroughly ravaged. My chest heaved with every uneven breath. My heart hammered hard against my ribs. My lips throbbed, swollen and wet from his mouth. The scent of his cologne trapped in the small cabin of the car was intoxicating.

I kissed him to get back at Enzo. To make a public statement.

But the explicit way Cassian took over? The way he tasted me? That wasn't part of the plan.

The silence in the car stretched out. Thick. Suffocating. Electrified.

A full minute passed before Cassian spoke. He kept his eyes locked on the road ahead.

"Was that tactical?" Cassian asked. His voice was calm, a smooth surface over boiling water. "Or should I start worrying about my self-control?"

I swallowed the dry lump in my throat. My hands were shaking in my lap. "I needed him to stop," I managed to say.

A muscle ticked furiously along Cassian’s sharp jawline. His grip on the steering wheel tightened until his knuckles turned bone-white.

"He'll stop," Cassian replied quietly.

The tone of his voice made my stomach perform a hard flip. It wasn't a comforting reassurance. It wasn't satisfaction. It was a blood promise.

I turned my head to look at him. "Cassian..."

He stopped at a red light and finally turned his head to meet my gaze. The indifferent mask he wore for the rest of the world was gone. Ripped away.

What stared back at me wasn't a strategic roommate. It wasn't a guy doing me a favor to annoy his rival. It was a man stripped down to raw, dangerous intent. The heat in his eyes was blinding.

"I don't do things halfway, Lydia," he said softly. His voice dropped an octave, scraping against my nerves.

My pulse skipped a frantic beat.

For the first time since I packed my bags and moved into his guest suite, a genuine spike of fear shot through my veins. I thought I was in control of this arrangement. But looking at the dark, consuming hunger in his eyes, I realized the terrifying truth. I just started something I was unprepared to finish.