Iris:
Something about the air at Blair Ridge felt wrong that morning.
Too still. Too quiet. Like the calm before something awful.
I woke up before dawn, heart racing — another dream I couldn't remember. Another echo of smoke and my father's voice slipping through the dark.
When I sat up, my phone buzzed on the nightstand.
No name. Just a number I didn't know.
You look happier lately.
My stomach dropped.
I stared at it until the screen dimmed, my reflection ghosting back at me. I didn't answer. I never did. But the messages kept finding me anyway.
By breakfast, I had painted on a smile. Pretended to laugh when Lena teased me. Ivy was sprawled on her bed, sipping iced coffee like she owned the place — even though she had her own dorm. That was Ivy: always near the chaos, even when it wasn't hers.
Hunter stood near the door, leaning against the frame, coffee mug in hand, quiet as always. His gaze flickered over me, pausing for half a heartbeat longer than it should have.
"Morning," he said.
"Hey," I managed, hoping he couldn't hear how fast my pulse was going.
Later, I tried to study in the campus café, but every noise made me flinch. Every vibration of my phone felt like a ghost tapping my shoulder.
Then Hunter dropped into the seat across from me, brushing his hand over his jaw like he'd been debating whether to come in at all.
"Still can't sit still, huh?" he asked, a teasing softness in his tone.
"I don't do well with quiet," I said.
"Maybe you just don't like being alone."
His words were low, careful — but they found a place in me that had been hollow for a long time.
I looked up at him, ready to make a joke, when another voice cut through the air.
Cole.
He stood at the counter, laughing with the barista, that perfect mix of charm and warmth that made everyone look twice. When his eyes landed on me, he smiled — slow, confident, easy.
"Didn't think I'd find you here," he said, sliding into the seat beside me without asking. "Guess fate's on my side today."
Hunter's jaw tightened. "Maybe she was studying."
Cole grinned. "She can multitask."
He leaned closer to me, his shoulder brushing mine, the scent of cedar and espresso filling my head.
It felt dangerous — but in a way that made me want to fall further.
When Hunter stood to leave, I caught his sleeve.
"Don't," I said softly.
He hesitated — and for a second, the world went quiet again.
Then my phone buzzed.
Another text.
You shouldn't let them get so close.
My throat went dry.
Hunter saw my face change. "Iris?"
I shook my head, forcing a smile. "It's nothing."
But I could feel it — the eyes on me. Somewhere. Watching.
And when I glanced out the café window, I swore I saw movement near the tree line — a flicker of shadow that vanished as fast as it appeared.
Hunter:
She said it was nothing.
But I knew better.
I watched her fingers tremble when she put her phone down, the way her gaze darted toward the window like she was looking for something she didn't want to find.
Cole didn't notice. Of course, he didn't. He was too busy making her laugh — and damn if that laugh didn't slice through me like glass.
She shouldn't have had to fake being okay. Not her. Not Iris.
When Cole got up to grab another drink, I leaned forward.
"You're scared," I said quietly.
Her eyes met mine, wide and fragile. "You ever feel like you can't escape something, no matter how far you run?"
"Yeah," I said. "Every day."
The silence between us felt alive — heavy with everything neither of us was ready to say.
She reached for her cup, our fingers brushed, and my heartbeat stuttered — too loud, too fast.
"Iris—"
The word came out rougher than I meant.
But before I could say more, her phone buzzed again.
She didn't even look this time. Just turned it face down.
And that's when I saw him.
Outside.
By the trees.
A figure half-hidden in shadow — still, watching.
When I blinked, he was gone
Iris:
Hunter's voice trailed off mid-sentence, his eyes flicking toward the window.
Something in his expression shifted — subtle, but enough to make my stomach twist.
"What is it?" I asked.
He blinked, the look gone as quickly as it came. "Nothing. Thought I heard something."
I didn't press him, but unease prickled at the back of my neck.
He didn't hear anything. He saw something. I could tell.
When he left to refill his drink, I stared down at my phone. The last message still glared back at me.
You shouldn't let them get so close.
I deleted it before I could think, but even after it vanished, I could still feel it — like someone was still there, fingers ghosting over my shoulder.
Cole came back with two cups, that casual grin on his face. "Hunter said he'd meet us outside. You okay?"
"Yeah," I lied, forcing a smile.
He sat across from me, leaning forward with that quiet charm that always seemed to pull people in.
"You don't look okay," he said softly. "You can tell me if something's off."
I wanted to.
Instead, I said, "I'm just tired."
He didn't look convinced. "You've got that look — like your head's somewhere else."
His hand brushed mine, and for a second, warmth cut through the cold that had been following me all day.
Then the door opened.
Hunter's voice — sharp, tense. "Cole. We're going."
Cole drew his hand back, his jaw tightening as if to challenge him.
I stood before either of them could speak. "It's fine. Let's just go."
Outside, the air was cooler, tinted gold by the fading sun. The courtyard was nearly empty, the wind carrying the faint smell of rain.
Hunter walked beside me, quiet — too quiet.
"Was it something I said?" I asked, glancing at him.
He shook his head. "No, Iris. It's not you."
But it felt like it was.
It always did.
We reached the edge of the trees, where the shadows bled into the light. Something about the air felt heavier — like it remembered things I didn't want to.
I turned, meaning to ask him if he was okay, but then—
A sound.
Soft. Almost a whisper.
My name.
I froze. "Did you—"
Hunter was already looking past me, unreadable.
The sound came again, faint, fading into the rustle of the leaves.
I stared into the trees, heart pounding. There was nothing there — just darkness and wind.
When I looked back, Hunter's gaze was fixed on me, his hand halfway lifted as if he wanted to touch my face but thought better of it.
"Hunter?" I whispered.
He dropped his hand. "We should go."
And when he turned away, I could've sworn I saw it — a flicker of light in the trees. Like a match being struck.
Gone before I could be sure it was ever there.