5. Chapter Five - Breathless Hesitation
“So,” Culver said, shifting the conversation with ease, “you have begun a project?”
“How did you—” I blinked, then remembered the folder tucked under my arm. “Right, yeah. We’re grouped up for something. I think they want me to handle the report.”
He nodded once, as if storing the information away. “Did you take notes?”
“Lots.” I lifted the folder slightly. “Thankfully, they just started assigning partners, so I’m not too far behind.”
“Do you enjoy writing?” he asked as we turned the corner.
I thought about it for a second, my mind drifting away from the moment. “I don’t hate it, but I wouldn’t say I love it either. It’s more of a get-it-done sorta thing.”
“I see,” he said, that restrained almost-smile touching his mouth again. “I enjoy reading more than writing, but if you require assistance with your report, do not hesitate to ask.”
I let out a light laugh. “I’ll survive, thanks. I’ll go to my partners first, since, ya know, you’re not even in my class.”
“I am in the advanced course, though,” he replied, dragging his fingers through his unruly raven hair as though he’d just made a very convincing point.
Oh, so he was smart and dramatic. Fantastic. Just what the world needed.
The slight crease between his brows gave him away, though. Subtle, but real. He was still bothered I wasn’t in his class, even if he tried to play it off.
His ego was real.
And he wasn’t bad-looking, either. Actually, he was almost unfairly attractive if you really stopped to take him in, the sort of face you’d expect to see painted in oils and hung somewhere dim and expensive. But it wasn’t only his features that made people look twice.
His build was lean, but I’d already noticed the quiet strength in his forearms earlier when he’d picked up my folder, subtle but impossible to miss. And his hands, broad and strong, looked as though they could handle something carefully… or crush it without hesitation if they chose to.
I was getting lost in thoughts I probably shouldn’t have entertained when he stopped suddenly and said with a seriousness that matched his tone, “And we have arrived.”
His eyes flickered with something softer, a brief flash that almost resembled satisfaction. “Although, this is the last seminar of the day.”
I snapped back just in time to avoid walking straight into the doorframe. Blinking, I took in the open classroom, half the students already seated and a few quietly watching us.
“Right,” I said, forcing my attention back where it needed to be. “I’m only taking three classes.”
“You will settle in soon enough,” Culver replied, leaning against the doorway as though it had been made for him. He stared off for a moment before looking back at me. “I suppose I will take my leave. I will await you after class, little lamb.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Really, again?”
He didn’t answer. He just smiled, that quiet, maddening curve of his mouth.
The nickname should’ve irritated me, but I couldn’t deny the ridiculous little rush that surfaced every time he said it.
I turned quickly and walked inside before I could lose what little composure I had left. Once I found an empty seat, I let out a slow breath, trying to convince myself I could finally relax.
Even then, surrounded by unfamiliar faces, his presence lingered stubbornly in my thoughts, refusing to fade just because he’d left.
The scent of his cologne clung to me, and the longer I sat there, the more it felt as though I was breathing him in.
The recognizable scent made my brows furrow.
I found myself wondering what he was wearing with vague, distracted curiosity because I didn’t hate it.
In fact, I was starting to realize there were a lot of things about him I didn’t hate that I definitely should’ve.
“Hi,” a soft voice said beside me.
I turned quickly, surprised by how quiet she had been.
“Oh, hey,” I replied, offering a small wave as I shifted my things and settled properly into my seat.
She had a presence that was hard to ignore.
Her black hair fell in soft waves down her back, except for a braid along the right side threaded with tiny charms, beads, and strands of gold, as though a crow had gathered its favorite treasures and woven them into her hair.
Her skin carried a warm glow, and her pale blue eyes were sharp in a way that made it difficult to look away.
She wore earrings that moved with even the slightest shift, stars and moons and bones catching the light.
Layered necklaces draped across her chest, bracelets chiming softly with each motion of her arms. Crystals, chains, bangles.
All of it clashed and somehow worked together.
She didn’t look as though she belonged to any one time or place, just somewhere…
other. She looked as though she sold handmade candles that could either heal your trauma or summon something insane.
I realized I’d been staring.
“Well,” she said, uncertainty threading lightly through her voice, “how do you know Scarbrough?”
I leaned on my elbow, my guard rising at the shift in tone. “I just met him today. Why?”
“But do you know of him?” she corrected gently, her gaze dropping to the desk. “I will pray for you.”
That was probably one of the top five least comforting sentences I’d ever heard.
“Wait, what?” I turned toward her fully, confusion tightening in my chest. “What d’ya mean by that?”
She leaned closer, lowering her voice beside my ear. “The Scarbroughs are… complicated. On the surface, their business deals in fashion, luxury clothing, and custom tailoring, but that is only a mask.”
I blinked, taken aback. “A mask how?”
She hesitated, biting her lip. “There is a whisper going around. They have been here longer than anyone can count. Some say they have not aged a day since arriving in England.”
Rich people really did get away with everything.
“Is that why people talk about Culver?” I asked quietly. “Why they won’t say his first name?”
“It is not only that,” she said, her posture tightening. “There have been disappearances. One student in particular, when the family first arrived. It was a boy in his year. Scarbrough watched him. His eyes followed the poor boy like a shadow. Weeks later, he vanished without a trace.”
A cold sensation slid beneath my ribs as I thought of Culver’s gaze, how sharp and impossible to escape it felt whenever it settled on me.
“And no one did anything?” I whispered.
“Because it kept happening,” she said simply. “More people… more silence.”
“But you don’t know he did it,” I said, reaching for something solid. “It’s not confirmed.”
“That is the thing,” she replied calmly. “People know. They simply do not dare speak it aloud.”
Unease coiled tighter in my chest. “So you think I should stay away from him?”
She leaned back, studying me with an unexpected softness. “If I were in your place, I would tread carefully. Still, I shall pray for you, one way or another.”
The professor’s voice started up, but none of it registered. Her words looped through my mind, tightening and circling until class ended and I snapped back to awareness, realizing I hadn’t absorbed a single thing.
As I gathered my belongings, my thoughts felt unsteady, caught somewhere between disbelief and a lack of fear that unsettled me more than panic ever could. I shoved my notebook into my bag, my movements slower than usual, as though my body was lagging behind my thoughts.
A hand touched my shoulder.
“Also,” someone said softly.
I turned, startled. “Oh—hey, sorry. I spaced out.”
“My name is Kiera,” she said, holding out her hand.
“I’m Ira,” I replied, taking it, the soft clink of crystals and metal echoing between us. “Sorry I didn’t introduce myself earlier.”
“You were not the only one,” she said with a small smile, though a thread of tension still lingered beneath it.
Her expression shifted as her gaze drifted past me, the warmth draining from her face. I followed it without thinking.
Culver stood just outside the doorway, completely still, his expression unreadable, as though he were weighing a decision rather than simply waiting.
He knew that I knew.
“Anyway, Ira, I pray for your safety until we meet again,” Kiera said, slipping past him quickly. She didn’t brush against him, didn’t even come close.
“How was class?” Culver asked; his voice remained soft.
“I guess it went good,” I replied, adjusting my bag on my shoulder, my movements still stiff with lingering tension.
“Shall I drive you home?”
The question sent a strong enough warning through me to slow my steps before I steadied myself. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” I asked, even though I already knew his answer wouldn’t be simple.
“Is that a yes?” he asked, tilting his head slightly, his attention fixed on me as though he were trying to understand me rather than pressure me into anything.
“I’d rather walk,” I muttered, keeping my eyes forward.
That was totally a lie.
I definitely wanted another motorcycle ride.
Earlier, I would’ve accepted without hesitation, maybe even gladly.
But Kiera’s warning echoed too loudly in my mind to ignore.
I didn’t believe everything she’d said, not entirely, but the strain in her voice and the way she’d looked at him had settled somewhere uneasy inside me.
It kept pushing at me, urging me to be smarter about this.
I should’ve been more cautious. I should’ve created distance.
There were too many things I knew I should do and not nearly enough I actually followed through on.
“Please,” he murmured, a flicker of urgency surfacing in his eyes. “I would feel rather guilty if I made you walk home in the rain.”
I glanced toward the window. Dark clouds pressed against the glass, heavy and waiting, as though they were already planning their return.
“Is Rupert going to be with us?” I asked, reaching for something practical to steady myself.
He blinked. “A motorcycle accommodates two.”
Right. Obvious.
I cringed inwardly.