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hmm...

Agatha had never believed in love at first sight. Frankly, she found the whole idea irritating. Silly, even. The sort of thing printed on the covers of bad romance novels. No - Agatha preferred reason. Skepticism. A carefully guarded heart with high, barbed-wire walls built from years of disappointment and the sharp, unforgettable sting of betrayal.

But all of that, every ounce of her carefully constructed cynicism, went up in smoke the moment she saw him. Darius. He hadn't even noticed her, of course. He was just there, half-shadowed by sunlight and laughing, his ruffled shirt half-untucked, and his skateboard carving smooth, lazy arcs across the pavement like he didn't have a single care in the world.

He wasn't trying to be noticed. And that made it worse. Because Agatha noticed everything. Every tilt of his shoulders. Every push of his foot against the ground. The way his hand raked through his wind-swept hair without thinking. And the grin - Kobe, the grin - that flickered across his face when he nearly fell and caught himself like gravity was just a suggestion.

She hated it. She hated him for being that effortlessly magnetic. And she hated herself even more for the way her stomach twisted and her breath hitched, like she'd just been hexed. In that moment, she forgot every bitter thing she'd ever said about men.Because Darius wasn't a cliché. He was a problem. A gorgeous, intoxicating, maddening problem. And she knew.... knew with the kind of bone-deep certainty that had nothing to do with logic and everything to do with instinct... that she had exactly two options:

Seduce him. Or die trying.

Literally.