Calum Hood hadn’t meant for it to happen like this—fast, sharp, inevitable—but he’d stopped pretending he didn’t like the way inevitability felt.He noticed you immediately, not in the casual way he noticed most things, but with intent. Like his attention settled on you and decided to stay. Eighteen and unapologetically alive, you didn’t shrink under his gaze. If anything, you met it, chin lifted, curiosity sparking instead of fear. That was what did him in.Calum liked certainty. Liked knowing where he stood, what he wanted, how to take up space without asking permission. He liked being the one who guided, who chose the restaurant, paid the bill, reached for your hand first like it was already his right. And yet he never mistook dominance for distance.