Before the Line is Crossed
Gabrielle POV
The bus lurches over a pothole, jolting me out of my thoughts.
Out of those eyes.
The bus smells faintly of damp coats and cheap deodorant, the windows fogged from too many bodies packed too close together.
Someone near the front is blasting music through tinny earbuds, the bass rattling the seat backs. Laughter bursts out in pockets, too loud, too forced – like everyone’s trying to convince themselves this is just another school trip.
“So,” Tess says brightly, turning in her seat to face me. “Back to the dream. Tell me more. Tell me more.” She sings it, full-on Grease Lightning style, complete with shoulder shimmy.
I press my lips together, but a laugh still sneaks out.
“Please stop.” I plead in the most sincere voice I can manage.
What she doesn’t realise is that the dream is the only thing I’ve been thinking about.
She ignores my weak protests, bopping along to a song only she can hear.
For a second, watching her feels comforting, familiar. Safe. Tess has always been like this: loud enough to drown out my overthinking.
“So,” Tess says again, quieter now. “Start from the beginning. Not the Cliffnotes version – give me all the juicy details.”
I sigh and tuck my hair behind my ear. “It was… different this time.”
“Oooh. How?”
“I wasn’t running,” I say slowly. “I was standing. And I knew where I was. I could feel him.”
Tess’s brows knit together, “That’s new.”
I stare at the back of the seat in front of me, unable to look her in the eye for this bit.
“Before I saw him, it was like the air changed. Like my body recognized something my brain didn’t – like it wanted, I mean I wanted...” I falter.
I can't quite bring myself to confess how much it physically affected me.
She stops smiling. A puzzled look sweeps across her brow.
Weird – she’d usually kill for a confession like this.
Someone a few rows back laughs too loudly.
Connor’s voice cuts through the bus, bragging about something I don’t bother to catch. I tune it out automatically.
“He didn’t touch me,” I quickly add. “He didn’t even move. He just stood there. Watching.”
“And that’s what freaked you out?” she asks.
“No,” I say. “That’s what didn’t.”
Tess shifts in her seat, fully facing me now. “Gabi…”
“I woke up in my bed,” I say, my voice dropping. “I told myself it was just another dream. Same as before.”
I hesitate.
“And then?”
“And then I stood up,” I say. “And my feet were filthy.”
Her eyes widen. “Filthy how?”
“Like I’d been outside. Properly outside. Mud. Pine needles. Dirt packed into my skin.”
“That’s not–” She stops. Tries again. “You sleepwalk sometimes.”
“I’ve never sleepwalked before I was eighteen,” I say. “Not once. And Tess,” I swallow. “Dreams don’t leave footprints.”
The bus rolls on, oblivious.
Tess goes very still – sobering suddenly.
Her smile slips just a fraction. “Gabs… you know that wasn’t normal, right?”
I open my mouth, then close it again.
“I mean,” she continues, lowering her voice, “Dreams don’t usually involve wandering into the woods. Or coming back with dirt under your feet.”
My stomach tightens.
“You need to be careful,” she says, no teasing now. “Your house is on the edge of town. If something happened...” She stops herself, shaking her head. “You’re easy prey.”
I huff a weak laugh. “You’re being dramatic.”
Tess’s hand finds mine again, her grip firm this time. Protective. Like she’s already positioning herself between me and something she can’t see.
Tess lowers her voice. “You didn’t tell anyone else about this, did you?”
“No.”
“Good,” she says. “Let’s keep it that way. If you were a wolf, it would be different,” she says gently. “But you’re not.”
The words sink beneath my skin.
“You’re human,” Tess adds. “That makes you vulnerable.”
Vulnerable. Weak. I've heard it my whole life.
"Human."
Not said unkindly – just fact.
The way you say glass when you mean fragile, or certain when you mean unavoidable. I’ve built my life around it without even realising.
Stayed out of the woods at night. Learned which paths were safe. Learned when to keep my head down.
I thought I was okay with it.
I thought being human meant being free of all the messy, dangerous things that come with wolves and bonds and destiny.
But now…
The bus drives on, voices rising and falling around us, and suddenly everything feels too loud. Too close.
I feel tears sting my eyes. I blink hard, staring out the window.
Because no matter how many times I tell myself it doesn’t bother me…
It does.
I don't embarrass myself by telling her what he said.
Not yet. If I don’t say it out loud, then it can’t be true.
The bus slows as the road curves, trees pressing closer to the windows.
For a second, I could swear someone is watching us from the tree-line.
Not following the bus. Waiting for it to stop.
I tell myself it’s nothing.
I’ve been doing that a lot lately.