A Cure Called Melody

Chapter One

I was bored out of my fucking mind.

Not the soft kind of bored that makes rich kids sit around scrolling until their eyes go blank. The deep kind. The chronic kind that sits in your chest like a weight and makes every ordinary night feel like slow drowning. Classes were fine. The gym was fine. Even the last fight two weeks ago had been fine quick money, clean win, lights still on at home. But fine was the problem. Fine was the enemy. I needed something sharp enough to cut through the static. High stakes. Chaos. Something that made my blood remember it was supposed to move.

So when I heard about the party on Ridgecrest some lacrosse captain's place with a pool, a DJ, and enough expensive liquor to drown a small country I didn't overthink it. I didn't know the guy. Didn't care. I just needed the noise and the possibility that something might go sideways hard enough to make me feel alive again.

I parked my beat-up Honda two blocks down and walked the rest of the way. Borden Springs at night always smelled like salt and money ocean air mixed with the sweet chemical scent of perfect lawns. The house glowed at the end of the street like it was trying too hard. Cars lined both sides: Teslas, Audis, one ridiculous matte-black G-Wagon that probably cost more than my mom's entire apartment building. My boots scuffed the perfect concrete as I cut across the lawn without asking. No one stopped me at the door. People rarely do when you look like you crawled out of a different zip code and don't give a single shit about it.

Inside was exactly what I expected. Too many bodies. Too much perfume. The sharp edge of entitlement hanging in the air like smoke. Music thumped through the floor hard enough to vibrate in my ribs. I moved through the crowd like smoke, nodding at a couple of guys from the gym who looked surprised to see me, ignoring the ones who looked nervous. I didn't drink. Didn't need to. The boredom was already thinning at the edges just from being somewhere I wasn't supposed to be.

I found a spot against the far wall near the kitchen, arms crossed, scanning the room the way I always did looking for exits, for trouble, for anything interesting enough to wake me up.

That's when I saw her.

I'd known who she was since the first week of the semester. Everyone did. Blonde hair that always looked like she'd just stepped out of some expensive photoshoot, clothes that cost more than my monthly rent, the kind of face that made people stare and then pretend they weren't. She moved through campus like the ground belonged to her. I'd never spoken to her. Never needed to. Girls like her lived in a different atmosphere oxygen-rich, consequence-free. I preferred the thinner air where I came from.

Tonight she looked different. Not polished. Cornered.

She was in the middle of the living room, surrounded by five guys in matching team jackets. One of them tall, dark hair, the kind of smile that never reached his eyes had his hand on her waist like he had every right to it. Another was laughing too loud, leaning in close enough that his breath was probably on her neck. Melody's posture was rigid. She kept shifting her weight, trying to step out of the circle, but they closed ranks every time. I watched the way one of them tugged at the hem of her little blue crop top, fingers brushing skin. Another pushed her lightly toward his friend, then the friend pushed her back. Like a game. Like she was a toy they were passing around for fun.

Something cold and familiar slid under my ribs.

I knew that look. Had seen it in alleyways and locker rooms and the backs of cars that never should have stopped. The boredom evaporated. In its place came the clean, sharp hunger I only felt when things were about to get violent.

I pushed off the wall.

The circle didn't notice me at first. They were too busy with their fun. Melody's voice cut through the music, sharp and strained.