2. Chapter Two - Strange Escort #2
I pulled the helmet off and instantly winced as my hair sprang out in every possible direction, leaving me looking like a drowned poodle on her first day of school. There went any chance of looking mysterious and unattainable. The absurdity of it almost made me laugh.
I ran my fingers through it, trying to fix the mess with no real success while the strands stuck out stubbornly. The helmet felt strange in my hands, almost personal.
Still, I’d made it through the ride, the rain, and the stranger who could’ve turned into a problem but hadn’t. So far, I hadn’t been kidnapped, stabbed, or shoved into the back of a van. Honestly, that felt like a solid start.
I heard the click of the kickstand and turned back to him, a little surprised by how much lighter I felt.
“Thanks for the ride,” I said with a grin. “I seriously thought you were gonna kidnap me, but it looks like that ain’t in the cards today.”
I held the helmet out to him, my hands open as though I were offering some sort of truce after everything that had gone through my head. He took it slowly before setting it back on the bike with the same quiet care that seemed to follow him.
His expression shifted in a way I hadn’t expected, confusion softening into a small, crooked smile that looked almost unfamiliar on him. It eased the harsher edges of his face just enough to make him seem less like something pulled from the darkness.
“You have a rather peculiar way of expressing gratitude,” he said, his voice carrying the same careful formality.
Well, excuse me for not having proper kidnapping etiquette.
I smiled wider. “Well, you can’t be too careful these days. I was raised not to hitch rides with strangers, y’know.”
Even as I said it, my brows drew together.
Wait a minute.
I wasn’t the one who’d wanted a ride in the first place. He had been the one to offer, to push just a little with that intense stare of his. Still, I had gone along with it, which probably wasn’t my smartest decision in hindsight.
But nothing bad had happened.
“Anyway, seriously,” I added, giving him a small wave as I turned away. “Thanks again.”
“Hold on,” he called from behind me.
I stopped, though I didn’t fully turn this time. “You still need something?” I asked, letting him come closer instead of risking another surprise.
I pulled my vape from my jeans pocket and took a hit, strawberry sweetness curling into the air as I exhaled.
He glanced at it while the vapor drifted between us, drawing in a breath through his nose before tensing at once. The corners of his mouth tightened, and his eyes narrowed slightly.
Still, he didn’t comment on it. Instead, he cleared his throat and composed himself.
“What classes are you attending?” he asked, his voice smooth but faintly strained, as though he were making an effort not to inhale too deeply.
It was almost funny how clearly he disliked it yet stayed exactly where he was, holding his ground as though the conversation mattered more than the smoke lingering between us.
I couldn’t help wondering whether it was just that ingrained politeness of his or if he genuinely wanted to keep talking to me.
“Haven’t gotten my schedule yet,” I said with a shrug, continuing forward.
He fell into step beside me, matching my pace easily. “Just to be certain, you are a student, correct?”
“Yeah… and you?” I shot him a sideways look, realizing that I didn’t actually know if he went here.
“Yes, first year,” he replied, holding the door open for me with an almost theatrical amount of politeness.
“Huh, didn’t expect that,” I muttered, giving him a quick once-over. Then, more pointedly, “So why were you headed in the opposite direction earlier, then?”
He gave the same half-smile again. “You are quite observant.”
I stared at him.
That wasn’t an answer.
Men really would say anything except the actual truth.
Instead of elaborating, he shifted seamlessly. “Allow me to show you to Student Services. They should have already created your account. It seems… unfortunate they have not.”
He sounded genuinely bothered for me when he shouldn’t have, considering we had just met.
As I thought back to what Ma had told me, the rushed conversations before we left, and how her employers had handled everything from my enrollment to choosing my major, unease crept back in. They had sorted out every detail and left me to simply show up without ever meeting them.
It was helpful.
Almost too helpful.
“What is your major?” he asked, his voice slipping back into that low, steady tone that settled somewhere deep in my chest.
“Bachelor of Fine Arts,” I replied, then blinked. “Sorry, what’s your name again?”
He paused before answering, then smiled in a way that sent a small, unexpected pulse through me.
“Culver,” he said. “You would do well to remember it, little lamb.”
I frowned. There he went again with the weird forest-creature dialogue. “Is that name normal around here, or…?”
“Not in the slightest,” he replied without hesitation. “It is a name for you, and only you.”
I gave him a look. “So you came up with a nickname for someone you just met? That’s either weirdly bold or a sign you’ve never been told to mind your manners.”
His mouth parted as though he meant to explain, but I stepped forward, brushing past him just enough to make my skepticism obvious.
“Yeah,” I called over my shoulder, “maybe you’re a real weirdo.”
He didn’t argue. Instead, he kept walking, slipping half a step ahead of me like a guide who wasn’t entirely convinced I’d follow.
I drifted in front of him for a moment before realizing how lost I actually was in the winding halls, so I let him take the lead again without comment.
I still didn’t trust him, not with that strange intensity he carried, but curiosity kept me moving beside him through corridors that seemed to stretch endlessly.
We stopped in front of a door marked “Student Services” in elegant cursive. I slowed and glanced back at him.
“This is me,” I said, giving a small nod before stepping inside.
As I passed through the glass doors, I looked over my shoulder.
Culver leaned against the hallway wall as though he belonged there, arms crossed and posture relaxed, his gaze settled on me.
He didn’t follow or speak. He simply waited, calm and unreadable, untouched by the restless energy moving through me.
I half-expected him to leave or wander off somewhere else, but he remained exactly where he was.
Inside, the office hummed with a dull, steady energy; places like this always seemed to.
Four women sat behind a long desk, their faces lit by computer screens.
A few glanced up when I walked in, offering polite nods before returning to their work.
None of them looked particularly happy to be there, and honestly, I couldn’t blame them.
School had never really been my thing, the way it boxed everything into schedules and rules that always rubbed me the wrong way.
I didn’t mind learning, not when it was on my own terms, but the rigid structure, showing up exactly when they said, and thinking the way they expected never sat right with me.
It made me feel confined instead of free.
When Ma first brought up college back home, I shut it down instantly without even entertaining the idea.
She’d just nodded, as though she’d already expected it, never pushing or trying to shape me into something I wasn’t.
That was one of the things she always got right, letting me be who I was without turning it into a fight.