3. In the wrong hands, what you survived can be used against you
In the wrong hands, what you survived can be used against you
As soon as class ends, Oliver is out of his seat, striding out of the lecture hall. Callan and I watch as he gets swallowed by the crowd.
“Wonder why he’s running off so fast,” Callan remarks, brows furrowing.
I pack up my things and follow Callan out. “So, Oliver?” I let my question linger, casually weaving through the students in the hall.
Callan bites back a grin. “You’re not subtle. Neither of you are. The eye thing you both had going on made me feel like I was interrupting something.”
“There was no such thing going on.” But even as I say it, my cheeks heat.
“Sure.” He drags out the word. “Oliver’s my best friend. He’d take a bullet for me, and I would for him. But he’s…” He moves his head side to side as if he’s trying to find the exact words to describe Oliver.
“What? A male,” I supply.
“Different. Not the relationship type.”
“Most college guys aren’t relationship types; that doesn't make him any different.”
Callan scoffs. “I, for one, am all for relationships. Just—” He stops, and I do as well. “Don’t mistake loyalty for safety.”
I roll my eyes. Oliver seems like the last person I should consider for a relationship. A good fuck, absolutely, but nothing more. Callan’s warnings are unnecessary.
“Will do, guardian angel.” We start walking once again in comfortable silence. That is, until my name splits the air, nearly making me run into a girl hurrying past.
“Lyra!” I turn to search out the person shouting my name through the quad, gaining far too much attention. Blaine is crossing toward us, determination etching every feature.
“I'll catch you later. I think you need to handle something.” Callan murmurs, vanishing into the crowd. The traitor.
“Hey,” I say as Blaine stops in front of me. I suddenly don’t know what to do with my hands, so I cross my arms. Realizing I look defensive, I uncross them and let them hang at my sides.
“Hey? That’s all you're going to say to me?” The pain in his expression drags the ache right back to the surface.
“I don’t know what else to say,” I admit. I knew leaving him would hurt. In the moment, it felt like the only option. Deep down, I was afraid—afraid he’d choose Molly and his friends over me, or that I’d find out he already had. So, before he was given the option, I chose for him.
He steers me to the side alcove. Clouds drag over the sun, fading the light. Fitting for this conversation. “There’s so much to say.”
My head lifts. “I know I left.” I take a deep breath, filling my lungs with much-needed air. “But you don’t know the full truth. It sounds selfish and horrible, but I had to.”
“Fuck. Then tell me the truth.” His hands scrub down his face. “I knew there was more.” He gently grabs my arm. A year ago, the gesture would have grounded me; now it only brings back the hurt I caused.
“I’m sorry.” I shake my head. “Those words don’t even come close to how sorry I am, but I just…” This is so much harder than I pictured.
Blaine loved me in a way I could never quite return.
I cared about him deeply, but the words always got caught in my throat whenever I tried to love him back the way he loved me.
We met in my freshman year, and somewhere between late-night texts and coffee dates, friendship blurred into something more.
I never wanted to leave him the way I did, but he deserves part of the truth.
“I had to leave. I couldn’t breathe. I was drowning after the hospital.” I pull my arm out of his grasp.
“I get that, I do…But I would have been there; we could have done long distance.” Even as the words leave his lips, they fall flat. He scrubs a hand through his messy brown hair that flops over his forehead. His eyes convey so much more than he’s saying.
Blaine is good. Sweet. He was a great boyfriend, but an even better friend. “Maybe, but at the time, I couldn’t have given that to you. I had to focus on myself. Leaving you was one of the hardest things I've done and leaving you without a word was shitty of me.”
“Shitty is an understatement.” I give him a sad smile. “So, what now?” he asks.
“Can we move on from it? Not in a relationship or even friends if that’s too much, but…” I trail off.
He stares at me for a long moment before nodding. “It’s hard to move on from something that didn’t get a real ending.”
The words hit me like bullets. “I know,” I whisper. I tentatively step in and loop my arms around his neck for a quick hug. He holds onto my hips for a second too long, then steps back. “I’ll always care for you.”
“I never once stopped caring for you.” Then he walks away, just like I did to him a year ago, without looking back once.
I’m mid-pedicure when Roxy bursts through my door like a storm, arms wide, demanding a hug.
I laugh, discarding the polish on the side table and hobbling on my heels, meeting her halfway. “Three months is way too long.”
“Finally,” she breathes out. “The ride here was hell.” We hug, squeezing tight.
She flops onto my bed, face down, raven hair sticking up in all directions. “My classes start tomorrow. And let me tell you, I don’t know when I’ll be able to eat, sleep, or breathe.”
“That’s what you get for picking a major that takes twelve years to complete.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I want to save lives,” she shoots back, muffled by my pillow. Her face softens when she finally unburies herself. “How are you really? No bullshit either.”
I sit beside her, picking at a loose thread on the comforter. “Good. I think I made a new friend, well, two. Vee, who I told you about, and Callan.”
“Ouuuh, Callan.”
I scrunch my nose. “No, not like that at all, but he’s in a few of my classes.”
“That’s nice, a little backup never hurt.”
“Backup?” I raise an eyebrow.
“Never can be too sure.” She gets up and wanders around my officially decorated room. Roxy’s brows lift when she looks over at me. “And? You’re not telling me something. Spill it.” My best friend knows me too well.
“Callan has a friend. Oliver.”
The way she squints at me makes heat crawl up my neck. “I’ve been here how long and not a peep about this Oliver you clearly feel more for than that Callan person.”
“We didn’t talk.”
“But…”
I shake my head, firm. “No buts.”
I never told her about my nightmare that led me to run in the forest. She would give me an hour-long lecture about how unsafe it was and blah, blah, blah.
I also wouldn't tell her about the guy I ran into, because then she would go nuclear. Roxy’s protective.
If she knew I was getting nightmares again, she would insist on staying with me.
As much as I love her, I love an empty bed more.
“Deflection.” She huffs, coming over and pulling me to my feet. “Did you see who shall not be named?” She does a slice motion over her neck.
“Unfortunately, yes. We share a class, and Blaine and I talked.”
“You talked?!” she chokes out. “Did you finally tell him?”
“No, what would be the point now? It's been over a year.”
“Closure.”
I sigh. Grabbing the polish, I finish my last few nails. “I don’t need closure with him. What’s done is done. Closure would’ve been them going to jail.”
The coffee shop is the central location on campus.
Its dark, moody atmosphere fits perfectly with the school’s charm.
I push through the heavy wood door and spot Vee tucked into a corner table, books spread around her.
Alternative pop plays under the low hum of conversation, and the air smells like espresso and sugar.
Deep-colored walls, warm lighting, black-and-white photos—everything about it feels curated to make you want to take a seat and stay.
She doesn’t look up until I slide into the seat across from her. “Hey.” I drop my bag onto the open chair.
“Hi.” Her grin is instant. “Week one complete.”
“One week.” I sigh. “How many more to go?”
“Thirty-five.”
I pause, hand buried in my bag. “That was rhetorical.”
“Oh.” She bites the inside of her cheek. “Well, breaks exist. I didn’t account for breaks.”
I laugh, pulling out the gift I brought her. “Here, I got you these.” I slide two books across the table. “Some of my favorites.”
“You got me books?” She blinks down at them like I just handed her the cure for cancer.
“Yeah. I figured you could read them, and then we can gossip about every dramatic detail after.” I shrug.
When she looks up, her eyes are glossy behind her glasses.
Panic spikes through me. “If you don’t like them, I can totally take them back. I just thought—” Fuck, I’m really bad at this friend thing.
“No,” she cuts in quickly, swiping at her cheek. “It’s just…no one’s ever gotten me a gift outside of my family.”
Say what?
She clears her throat, steadying herself. “Thank you. I can’t wait to read these.” Her fingers trace over the spines, a smile splitting her face.
Noted. Vee is officially getting gifts for every minor life event from now on. “It's no problem.” I pull out my laptop. I want to stay ahead—especially after English.
On Thursday, Callan patted the seat to his left, and Oliver ignored it.
He took the chair on my right instead, as if it were the only option.
The lecture turned into white noise after that.
All I caught was Oliver: the measured tap of his finger on the desk, the way he leaned in just enough to trespass into my space, the faint scent of sandalwood and something earthier.
When the professor called on him, he answered without even glancing at a note.
I refocus on Vienna. “How was your week?”
She groans. “Science is going to kill me. But it’ll be worth it when I’m the one finally supporting Callan instead of the other way around.”
I blink. “Wait, did you say Callan?”
“Yeah. My older brother.”
I sit back, suddenly amused. “Is your brother tall, ridiculously good-looking, but looks nothing like you?”
She nods. “That would be the one. Do you know him?”
“You could say that. We share a few classes.” Then I remember Callan’s comment about his sister being wrapped up with Jade, and my mood plummets. I won’t allow them to suck Vee, this sweet girl, into their twisted orbit.
Vienna laughs softly, shaking her head. “Willow Hill really is small. Callan’s the best, and I’m not just saying that because he’s my brother. He’s my best friend.”
“I love that,” I say, and I mean it. “My family’s like that too.”
Vienna’s fingers fidget with the corner of her notebook. “Did you meet Oliver?”
“I…” I clear my throat. “Yeah. I did.” Play it cool, Lyra. Play. It. Cool.
Her smile turns knowing. “That’s the usual reaction when anyone mentions Oliver's name.”
“What reaction?” I try to sound casual.
I fail.
“The dreamy eyes,” she says, delighted. “The staring. The sudden inability to form a full sentence.” I burst out laughing, and Vienna follows. “He’s also…well,” she says when she catches her breath, “to me, he’s my best friend. To him, I think I’m a nuisance.”
“I think he considers the world a nuisance,” I mutter.
That’s when I see Roxy walk in. Saved. I lift my hand and wave her over. “Hey!”
She beelines toward us, already mid-rant. “Hi. Sorry. I had to stay late because I did something wrong on my pre-lab and…” She stops, inhales. “Doesn’t matter. I’m getting coffee. Then I’ll be a person again. Hi, Vienna. Nice to meet you. I promise I’m usually less…this.”
Then she’s gone.
I look at Vienna’s wide eyes. “She’s well…brash. Honest. Slightly terrifying,” I say.
Vienna blinks. “I was going to say cool.”
Roxy returns a minute later and drops into the chair beside me, taking a long sip of her coffee like it’s oxygen. She sighs in contentment. “Much better.”
I make quick introductions, then the two of them drift into majors and classes while I half-listen and half pretend I’m doing work.
I stand. “I’m grabbing another coffee. You guys want one?”
“No,” Roxy says, eyeing her cup. “I need to leave soon.”
“I’m good,” Vienna adds.
On my way back from the counter, I spot Amelia and Leo tucked into a two-top by the window. Amelia meets my eyes—then snaps her gaze away so fast it would be funny in any other circumstance. I stand there for a moment, watching Leo until his eyes meet mine, and it’s as if I am transported.
“Hopefully, you just stay unconscious.”
“It’s all a dream; too bad I have to make this quick.”
“You deserve this, bitch.”
I blink away the memory. When my attention returns to the table, they're gone.
I slide back into my seat and set my drink down so my unsteady hands don’t spill. Not two seconds later, a shadow spills across the table, Molly’s fingers hooking over the back of the empty chair, her red hair spilling over her shoulders with the movement.
“Hey,” she says. “Jade, Leo, Amelia, and I are heading to dinner. Want to come?”
She’s talking to Vienna, but her eyes find mine anyway.
“Ohh…uhm.” Vienna seems confused, and I don’t blame her.
Roxy snorts, looking up at her with a fake, too-bright smile. “No, Molly. Thanks, but I’m going to pass. Being around psychopaths isn’t really my idea of a good time.” I start packing up with her, holding in my laugh.
Molly’s smile sharpens. “Considering you and Lyra weren’t invited.”
I don’t bite. I don’t give her anything. I just sling my bag over my shoulder and look at Vienna. “Text you later. Fill you in.”
I brush past Molly and head down the stairs—and freeze.
Oliver stands at the bottom, casual in his stance. Jade is at his side, laughing at something I can’t hear, and together they block the exit.
It doesn’t feel like an accident.
Oliver’s eyes find mine, and the rest of the coffee shop drifts away. The noise dulls. My lungs tighten. It’s just him, and the space between us. The way he looks at me is like he already knows what I’m thinking.
“Bitches,” Roxy hisses from behind me.
I look away first and step down past them, but not before I feel it. The faintest graze along my arm.
Too light to be certain.
Too deliberate to be nothing.
I keep walking, pulse hammering, pretending it didn’t happen. Pretending I don’t already have a problem.
Because I do.
I can’t stop searching him out.
And every time, I swear he’s watching me right back.