Filed to story: Katy and Brayden Cooper Novel
I lean back a little, hands sliding into my pockets as I wander toward the corner. “What about Katy?
“I want you to stop entertaining her.”
Spot on. I knew it.
A laugh bursts out of me. “You serious right now? This is why you hunted me down?”
“Back off,” he grits, like he’s barely holding himself together.
I step closer, licking my lips. “And why the hell would I do that? Matter fact, what makes you think it’s a good idea to pull up on me with this crap?”
He moves in too, trying to square me up, but let’s be real, only one of us is six-two, and it sure as hell isn’t him.
“Do I need a reason? She’s my-“
“Ex,” I cut in. “She dumped you.”
His eyes flicker wide for a second, like he didn’t expect me to know. Guess he didn’t buy the rumors… or maybe he just never thought Katy could actually pull me and we’ve had conversations.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he snaps once he gets his face back under control.” What happened between us is none of your business. Just stop entertaining her. Stop responding.”
I rub the side of my nose. “You want me to stop? What makes you think she’s the one waiting on me? Ever thought it might be the other way around?”
His forehead creases, and I watch the confusion flash before he realizes what I mean. Then anger settles over his face like a mask. “Is she really the best you can do? Are you that desperate for my leftovers?”
I laugh under my breath, then grab his collar, leaning in a little. “Funny you say that, because the way I see it, you’re the leftover. Otherwise, why are you standing here wasting your breath over an ex who doesn’t even remember she dated you?”.
His nose twitches and he slaps my hand away. “Back off. I won’t warn you again.”
“I hope you won’t,” I say. “Seeing your face every morning will ruin my day.”
I swing my bag over my shoulder and move toward the lecture hall. For half a second, I think it’s over until his voice follows me.
“You’re wasting your time on her. Katy will never accept you.”
My steps slow and my grip on the strap tightens until my knuckles ache. I turn halfway, and of course, he’s standing there with that smug little smirk, like he’s been waiting to throw this at me.
“If you’re really into her, then I feel sorry for you,” he says. “You’re not her type.”
tilt my head. “Didn’t ask for your opinion.”
He shrugs. “Just trying to save you the embarrassment because I know her better than anyone. And trust me, you’re the last guy who could ever win her over, Katy’s not like the girls you run through, so she won’t fall for your tricks. She won’t even get butterflies for you. It’s not too late to back off now.”
Before I can fire something back, he turns and walks away.
I stand there staring after him, heat burning in my chest. I feel angry, sure, but something else too. What the hell does he mean by that? If Katy could fall for him, then why not me? If he could make her stomach flutter, why can’t I?
KATY’S POV
“I’ve been instructed to inform you of an opportunity for upper-level undergraduates.” Mrs. Tompson says, snapping her folder shut.
A few people instantly start closing laptops and zipping backpacks, the usual stampede energy of a college lecture about to end.
I join in, sliding my notes into my bag and half-listening, half-counting down the seconds until I can get out of here.
“It’s called the Blackrock Grant.”
The word grant cuts through the noise in my head like a bell. I pause mid-motion, fingers still on my zipper, and glance up.
“Some of you may be aware, but some may not,” she goes on. “Blackrock Corporation, every five years, awards one million dollars to the best student business innovation or new product.”
My eyes snap wide. Did she just say a million?
The low buzz of shuffling dies down and even the kid in the back row who sleeps through half the semester lifts his head. One million dollars has that effect.
“And luckily, it’s this year.”
I forget about my bag entirely and straighten in my seat, my pulse picking up. A million dollars could wipe out every obstacle I have and it’s enough to put a real dent in my future.
“The link for the application will be open soon,” she continues while the rest of us are clearly trying to do the math on what a million dollars even feels like. “Here’s how it works: only one student is selected. GPA doesn’t matter, year doesn’t matter. Your idea has to be original. If selected, you’ll get the patent for it. Physical products are encouraged, but digital products will be accepted too.”
She pauses before adding, “And most importantly, your idea or product must solve a real problem in society.”
The room is quiet now. No one’s packing up anymore. A couple of people exchange glances and someone even lets out a low whistle.
I gulp, endless thoughts swirling in my head. But all of them point to one thing: I have to enter this thing. If it means pulling all-nighters and living off vending machine snacks, I’ll do it. One million dollars could flip my entire life upside down.
I picture all the business ideas I’ve scribbled in notebooks since freshman year, the kind I promised myself I’d chase after graduation. With that money, I wouldn’t have to wait. I could actually build something.
“This is real,” Allie whispers, leaning into my space and making me flinch. She spins her laptop toward me, her eyes lit up. “Look, this is their website. The link officially opens in ten days and submission runs for six months.”
I lean closer, watching as she scrolls the website. Everything looks exciting until my eyes freeze on the application fee.
“Three thousand dollars?” I blurt, louder than I mean to.
A couple heads turn, but I don’t care.
Allie nods, wincing. “Yeah. It’s steep. But I guess that’s how they fund the whole thing or at least part of it.”
I drop back into my chair, staring at the ceiling. “Three grand before I even spend a cent building the product. That’s… brutal.”
“But the reward is worth it,” she says quickly.
“If you win,” I mutter, my eyes drifting back to Mrs. Tompson, who’s still talking at the front of the room.
“You’ll win.” Allie nudges me, and when I glance over, she’s practically glowing, like a mom cheering her kid on at a spelling bee. “If there’s anyone who deserves it, it’s you, Katy.”
I drag a hand through my hair. “Three grand is still a lot of money, Alls. I’ll have to ask Justin, and you know he’s barely scraping by on his hockey scholarship.”
Before she can answer, Mrs. Tompson calls out, “See you next week.”