The classroom buzzed with chatter until the sharp tap of chalk against the board silenced it. Mr. Halpern, a thin man with greying hair and glasses that always seemed on the verge of slipping off, cleared his throat.
"Settle down, everyone. We've got a new student joining us today."
June's stomach fluttered—not fear exactly, but the tension of being placed under a hundred watchful eyes. She pushed herself up straighter, following the teacher to the front of the room, her steps steady though her palms felt damp.
When she turned, the room went quiet.
"Class, this is June Callaway," Mr. Halpern said, gesturing to her with a tired smile. "She's new to Blackstone, so I expect you all to make her feel welcome."
A few scattered whispers rippled through the rows. June kept her face neutral, her gaze flicking over curious faces—until it landed on him.
Her breath caught.
There, at the back, lounging in his chair with the casual arrogance of someone who owned the space, was the same guy she'd crashed into at Sunnyside Diner. The same golden-eyed stranger who had dragged her out of danger that night - Damien Cross.
And now… he was smiling at her.
Not kindly. Not encouragingly. No, it was a slow, mocking smile, like he was reliving the moment milkshake had ruined his expensive jacket, and enjoying the memory far more than he should.
June's gaze snapped away. Her composure wavered for the first time since stepping on campus. She forced her lips into a faint, polite smile, but inside her thoughts were loud and scrambled. Of course. Out of every classroom in this whole school… it had to be his.
"June, you can take your seat." Mr Halpern said, pointing toward the exact spot she prayed he wouldn't - an empty seat in front of Damien.
June clenched the strap of her bag and walked carefully down the aisle. Each step felt heavier than the last, her eyes fixed anywhere but the pair that followed her with predatory amusement. She slid into the empty desk, setting her bag down with deliberate slowness.
Behind her, she could feel him—his presence filling the air, warm and suffocating.
Her shoulders stiffened, but she kept her back straight, pulling her notebook from her bag. Her pen tapped softly against the page as Mr. Halpern began the lesson, his voice droning about equations, but June heard none of it.
Every nerve was aware of Damien sitting just inches behind her. She could almost imagine his smirk still carved across his face, his eyes locked on her like she was something to dissect, to toy with.
Grace, sitting a few rows over, shot her a sympathetic look, mouthing something like 'it's ok' before quickly averting her eyes. Even she knew sitting in front of Damien Cross was its own kind of curse.
June forced her hand to move, copying notes with calm precision. But the pulse at her neck betrayed her. And Damien, leaning lazily back in his seat, noticed every twitch, every nervous shift.
The rest of the lesson blurred into meaningless noise. Equations filled the board, pens scratched across paper, and the clock ticked with agonizing slowness. But all June felt was the steady burn of Damien Cross's presence behind her.
By the time the bell finally rang, June nearly jumped out of her skin. The classroom erupted in chatter as students stuffed books into bags. She moved faster than all of them. Her notebook slammed shut, her pens disappeared into her bag with reckless speed, and she shoved her chair back, standing so quickly it screeched against the floor.
She could feel him watching her.
Grace blinked as June practically sprinted for the door. "June?"
June didn't answer. She was already halfway down the hallway, hair flying, sweater sleeves tugged low over her hands like she could hide from the memory of golden eyes in the dark.
"June! Hey—wait up!" Grace scrambled after her, bumping into two students in the process. She finally caught up, grabbing June's arm just outside by the lockers. "What is wrong with you? You ran out like the classroom was on fire."
June's chest rose and fell too quickly. She swallowed hard, adjusting the strap of her bag. "Nothing. I'm fine."
"Fine?" Grace raised a brow, incredulous. "You looked like you were escaping prison. Did Damien say something to you?"
June shook her head too quickly. "No. That's the problem. He didn't."
Grace blinked. "...Okay? So?"
June exhaled sharply, tugging a strand of hair behind her ear. "I don't know. He just… freaks me out, alright? I was nervous."
Grace's expression softened, but her lips twitched as though she was holding back laughter. "You're telling me the girl who just moved here from Bel-Air is scared of Damien Cross?"
June groaned, covering her face with both hands. "Please don't say his name out loud."
Grace laughed, looping her arm through June's as she tugged her toward the next hall. "You're hopeless. He probably didn't even notice you."
June didn't say anything, she just bit her lower lip as Grace tugged her along, Grace's voice a stream of chatter. But June wasn't listening—her pulse was still skipping, her mind flashing back to that night. The shadows. The fight. Those glowing, inhuman eyes.
Finally, she stopped dead in the middle of the hallway. "Grace…"
Grace turned, brows raised. "What?"
June bit down on her lip again, hard enough to sting. She wanted to say it. She wanted to spill everything right there, because maybe—just maybe—Grace would understand. But the words tangled on her tongue.
Grace tilted her head. "Okay, seriously, what's going on with you? You're looking at me like you've seen a ghost."
June exhaled shakily. "I'm not scared of people. I'm not. But Damien—" Her voice faltered. "He's different. That night, when I first got here…"
Grace's smile slipped. "What about that night?"
June hesitated, fingers twisting in the strap of her bag. Tell her. Just tell her. She's your cousin. She'll believe you.
But then she looked at Grace's wide, expectant eyes—the way Grace never stopped talking, never stopped buzzing with energy, never stopped spilling words like they were secrets that didn't matter. And June knew. Grace would tell someone. Maybe not on purpose, but she would. And this… this wasn't something you could just laugh off.
Still, a fragment slipped past her lips before she could stop herself. "I saw him."
Grace blinked. "Saw who?"
June swallowed. "Damien. That night. He wasn't—" Her voice caught. He didn't seem normal." But she stopped, shaking her head. "Forget it. You wouldn't understand."
Grace stared, suspicion flickering in her eyes. "What are you even saying right now?"
"I don't know!" June snapped, pressing her palm to her forehead. Her voice softened. "I just… I don't know anymore. And this town—" She glanced around the hall, lowering her voice until it was barely a whisper. "Everything about this place creeps me out."
Grace frowned like she wanted to pry further. But after a moment, she just squeezed June's arm. "You've been here, what—three days? Of course everything feels weird. You'll get used to it. Blackstone's small, but it's not that bad."
June let out a small laugh—soft and shaky, but still a laugh. It eased something heavy in her chest. Maybe Grace was right. Maybe it wasn't all dark eyes and creeping shadows.
"Well," June said, tugging at the strap of her bag, "you'd better hope I get used to it fast. Because right now, I don't even know where I'm going." She blinked, looking at Grace. "Wait—what class do we have next?"
Grace blinked at her, then snorted. "You're serious?"
"Completely."
"History." Grace rolled her eyes with mock exasperation. "And yes, lucky for you, I have it too. You can't get rid of me that easily."
"Good," June said, relieved. Then, hesitating, she asked the one question clawing at her mind. "Is Damien going to be in that class?"
Grace stopped mid-step, blinking at her. Then, suddenly, she burst out laughing. "Pfft—no. No, no, no. Don't worry. He doesn't take that one. Thank the stars, right?"
June let out a breath she didn't even know she'd been holding. "Oh, thank God. Okay, that's great. That's perfect."
But her relief lasted only a heartbeat before she faltered, staring down the branching hallways. "Uh… which way is it again? This way or… that way?" She pointed between two corridors, her face pinched in confusion.
Grace doubled over, clutching her stomach in laughter. "Oh, my God, you're hopeless." She pointed firmly to the right. "That way. Don't make me regret dragging you here."
June huffed, tugging her jacket tighter. "Alright, alright. That way."
They fell into step, Grace still chuckling as June shook her head, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips.
The hallway buzzed with voices and the slam of lockers, but June's steps faltered as they turned the corner. A man was standing at the far end, half in shadow, his posture too still for a place so full of movement. He wasn't a student. Too tall, too sharp around the edges, and far too pale.
Grace was mid–sentence, laughing about how Ms. Martian always forgot her glasses, but June had stopped listening. Her gaze snagged on the man. The hollow under his eyes, the unnatural paleness of his skin—it pulled something loose in her memory.
Her stomach dipped. That face.
She had seen it before.
Blue uniform. The cardboard box in his hands. The night knock on the door. Pizza delivery. Except they hadn't ordered any pizza.
June's chest tightened, and for a heartbeat she thought the world around her had gone silent. The man's eyes found hers, sharp and deliberate, like he knew she remembered. Then—just as quickly—he turned, slipping down another hall with unnatural ease, as though he was gliding rather than walking.
Grace tugged her sleeve. "Hey, you're spacing out. C'mon, it's this way."
June forced a nod, but her skin prickled all over. She didn't say anything. Not yet. But she knew—this wasn't a coincidence.