The weight of Arabella’s hips swayed with every step, a bizarre pendulum Nathan could not ignore. The dormitory loomed ahead, a modern slab of glass and steel, its automatic doors whirring open with a sigh of chilled air. The lobby was a buzz of student activity, but Nathan’s eyes locked onto the circular reception desk, and the young woman behind it typing on a computer.

Okay. Simple. Ask for the room keys. Don’t stumble. Be Arabella.

He took a breath, the unfamiliar swell of his chest rising, and stepped forward. Before he could open his mouth, a hand—Allison’s hand, slender but with a strong grip—clamped onto his forearm. Luke pulled him aside roughly.

“Let me handle this, princess,” Luke murmured, his voice a low, Allison-pitched purr that dripped with arrogant intent. He gave Nathan a wink that was all masculine mischief, then sauntered toward the desk, his new athletic body moving with a confidence Nathan found both impressive and infuriating.

Nathan stood frozen, a stunning blonde mannequin in designer jeans, as Luke leaned against the high counter, offering the receptionist a dazzling smile. The girl was pretty, with intelligent eyes behind stylish glasses and a skeptical tilt to her head.

“Hey there,” Luke said, his tone smooth. “We need to get into our rooms. Can you help us out?”

The receptionist blinked, looked from Luke’s face to Nathan’s, and then back. She didn’t smile. “You’ve both been residents here for a year. You have keycards. Your rooms are in the system you’re supposed to remember.” Her voice was dry, unimpressed. “Is this a joke?”

Luke’s smile didn’t falter, but it hardened at the edges. “No joke. We just need a little assistance. Which floors? Which numbers?”

“You should know,” she repeated, her patience clearly thinning. “Did you both get amnesia over the summer?”

A flash of genuine anger crossed Luke’s face, the expression so starkly male on Allison’s delicate features it was jarring. “Listen,” he said, his voice dropping, losing its playful pretense. “Just give us the goddamn room numbers. Now.”

Nathan’s heart lurched. He’s going to blow this before we even get past the lobby. Acting on pure instinct, he strode forward, the click of Arabella’s heels sharp on the tile. He wrapped a hand around Luke’s—Allison’s—upper arm.

“Darling, don’t be rude,” Nathan said, forcing Arabella’s cold, melodic accent. His own voice sounded foreign and high. He turned a gracious, empty smile toward the receptionist. “Thank you for your time. My friend is just… had a bumped into her head.”

He didn’t wait for a reply. He tugged, hard. For a second, Luke resisted, his body tense with irritation. Then, with a scoff, he allowed himself to be pulled away from the desk.

“What the hell, Summers?” Luke muttered as Nathan dragged him toward a cluster of potted plants.

Before Nathan could hiss a reply, a chorus of excited female voices cut through the lobby’s hum.

“Bella! Oh my god, BELLA!”

Three young women descended upon them in a cloud of perfume and gleaming hair. They were all archetypes of NYU chic: one a bohemian redhead with countless bracelets, another a sporty brunette in leggings, the third a sleek Asian girl with a perfect bob. Their faces were alight with genuine delight as they surrounded Nathan.

“We thought you were never getting back from Brussels!” the redhead squealed, throwing her arms around Nathan’s neck.

Nathan stiffened, the hug a shock of warmth and pressure against the prosthetic body. He fought to keep the terror off Arabella’s face. Nickname. They used the nickname. Bella. He managed a stiff pat on the girl’s back.

“We’ve been texting you for days!” the brunette said, grabbing his hand. “Come on, you have to tell us everything!”

“Where’s your luggage?” the third asked, looking around.

In the flurry, they seamlessly extracted Nathan from Luke’s side. He was pulled into their orbit, a satellite captured by a stronger gravity. He glanced back, saw Luke standing alone by the ferns, a scowl on Allison’s face. Then the girls were leading him toward the elevators, chatting a mile a minute.

He didn’t know their names. The briefing files had photos, but names had been a blur of anxiety. He smiled, a beautiful, vacant curve of Arabella’s lips, and leaned into the persona. Aloof. Entitled. Use them.

“Darlings, it is a chaos,” Nathan said, waving a dismissive hand. “The travel, the flight… my mind is soup. And this jet lag! I cannot even think straight to find my own room.” He injected a theatrical sigh, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead. “You must lead me. I feel a migraine coming. I must lie down and change immediately.”

The three friends exchanged a look of amused sympathy. “Of course, Bella,” the brunette said, rolling her eyes fondly. “You’re such a drama queen. It’s right where you left it. Come on.”

They steered him toward a specific elevator bank, the redhead already punching the call button. Nathan’s mind raced, filing away every detail. This elevator. Their familiarity. They know the room. Follow them. Don’t lose them.

***

Back at the reception desk, Luke watched Nathan—Arabella—get swallowed by the giggling group. Annoyance simmered in him, but it was quickly replaced by a fresh idea. He turned back to the receptionist, who was watching him with renewed suspicion.

He walked back to the counter, leaning on it again, but this time his posture was different. Less confrontation, more conspiracy. He gave her a sheepish, charming grin, one that made Allison’s eyes crinkle.

“Okay,” he said, his voice low and confidential. “You got me. It’s my first day.”

The receptionist raised an eyebrow. “As Allison Reed? Who’s been on the third-floor roster for ten months?”

“Look,” Luke said, his tone shifting to a playful negotiation. “Let’s make a deal. You pretend, just for me, that I’m a new transfer. That this is my first time here. You help me out, give me the whole ‘welcome to the dorm’ spiel.” He leaned in closer. “And in return, I treat you to a meal. Anywhere you want. Sushi on me. Or, you know, a really fancy dining hall burger.”

A flicker of amusement finally broke through her professional mask. She looked him up and down, assessing the offer—and the attractive, oddly intense girl making it. She sighed, a small smile touching her lips. “You’re bizarre. But… a deal’s a deal. And I do like sushi.” She tapped on her keyboard. “Allison Reed. You’re in 307. Here’s a temporary keycard while you ‘get settled.’ Don’t lose it.”

Luke took the card, his grin triumphant. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“I’m a pushover for free spicy tuna,” she corrected dryly.

He was about to turn and head for the elevators, keycard in hand, to finally find his own room and maybe figure out where the hell Nathan had gone, when the receptionist’s voice called out after him.

“Hey, Allison!”

Luke paused and looked back. The young woman was leaning slightly over the counter, holding up a finger.

“Almost forgot. Your friends—Maya and Chloe—they stopped by the desk earlier. Said when you got in, to tell you that practice is on. You’re supposed to head straight to the gym once you’re settled.” She shrugged, a small, knowing smile on her face. “Sounded urgent. Basketball waits for no one, I guess.”

Luke processed this. Basketball practice. Right. Allison Reed, grad student, women’s intramural team. The file had mentioned it. He’d skimmed that part. A slow, genuine smile spread across his face. This could be fun.

He just nodded and gave her a casual thumbs-up with Allison’s slender hand. “Got it. Thanks.”

Then he turned, adjusting the strap of the small bag he carried, and pushed through the automatic doors. Nathan was upstairs, lost in a sea of feminine friendship. Luke was headed to a gym, to play a game in a body he was still learning. Their mission had officially, chaotically, begun—and they were already flying blind, in opposite directions.