7. Chapter Seven - Unlikely Anchors #2
“So,” she cut in smoothly, never missing a beat, “is he remotely competent in the snogging department?” She puckered her lips dramatically, making an exaggerated kissing noise as though she were parodying a gossip magazine.
My body straightened, and a shiver ran up my spine. I wasn’t entirely sure what snogging meant, but the context filled in the blanks fast enough, and I realized they were already piecing together something that hadn’t even happened. “What? We haven’t—”
“Sure, babe. Keep up the act,” she said smugly, resting her chin on her palm. “You’re a rubbish liar, though.”
I was never going to survive British slang.
Before I could even attempt to form a response that might shut this down, Oliver leaned forward with sudden intensity.
“What is it about Scarbrough anyway?” he asked, his tone edged with something sharper than curiosity.
“He’s got no manners, doesn’t talk to anyone, and acts like we’re all beneath him. And don’t forget the ghastly—”
He cut himself off abruptly, his eyes widening as he slapped a hand over his mouth.
It was rich coming from Oliver, considering he acted like a caffeinated raccoon.
The air shifted, thickening around us. My chest tightened as I stared at him, the moment stretching uncomfortably long while I tried to process what had just slipped out.
There it was again, that invisible line everyone seemed to know not to cross.
I narrowed my gaze as unease crawled slowly up the back of my neck because his slip might’ve sounded casual to anyone else, but to me, it felt like standing too close to the edge of something deep and dark.
I didn’t understand why it bothered me so much when I barely knew Culver, but something about the way Oliver spoke, so rehearsed and dismissive, unsettled me.
It sounded as though everyone here had already decided who Culver was and sealed him into a neat little box labeled "dangerous," "untouchable," and "not worth the risk. "
Part of me hated how closely that echoed the doubts I was trying to ignore.
Kiera’s warning drifted back into my thoughts, unwanted and persistent. The disappearances. The fear in her voice. The way she’d looked at me when she told me to stay careful. I kept trying to convince myself it had to be exaggerated, some overblown myth that had spiraled too far over the years.
But even then, another truth settled heavily beneath it all. I wasn’t able to walk away.
Not when people always seemed to leave eventually anyway. He’d probably get bored too, just like everyone else, disappearing the moment I stopped being interesting enough to keep around.
I opened my mouth to push back, to ask directly what they meant, but the words caught in my throat. Asking felt risky in its own way. Still, the question forced itself out anyway, quieter than I intended.
“Hey, guys,” I said softly. “Speaking of Culver… I heard some rumors about him. Are they true?”
Sienna stiffened, her usual confidence faltering just enough for me to notice. She let out a laugh, brittle and thin. “No one really likes talking about what the Scarbroughs might’ve done,” she said carefully, her eyes darting away from mine.
Oliver scratched the back of his head, suddenly fascinated by the floor. “Ira, who’s been whispering in your ear?”
“So it’s true?” I asked, my voice dropping lower as my thoughts started turning over themselves again.
I wasn’t sure I wanted the answer, but I needed it anyway.
Because who was this guy who had walked into my life out of nowhere and settled into it as though he already belonged there?
The same one whose touch lingered against my skin long after he’d gone?
“Hey,” Sienna said gently, placing her hand over mine. “Let’s not get stuck in the past, yeah?”
The deflection was obvious, but I let it go. The tension already sitting in my chest felt too heavy to push any harder. Sienna brightened quickly, taking my silence as permission to move on.
“Anyway,” she continued, “before you showed up, Oliver was saying he’d love for you to come to the park with us this weekend. Weather’s meant to be lush. There will be dogs, and we just want to chill to get to know you proper.”
I shook my head lightly, trying to clear it.
This was supposed to be a fresh start. New country.
New people. A real chance to exist without dragging every piece of my old life behind me.
Obsessing over rumors and half-finished warnings wasn’t going to make any of this easier, especially not while Sienna and Oliver sat beside me arguing over one sentence as though it were life or death.
Just as I opened my mouth to answer Sienna about the park, the classroom door creaked open.
The professor shuffled in with the energy of someone who looked as though he’d lost a long, drawn-out war with his own bed.
His hair stuck out in every direction, as though it had been aggressively attacked by a pillow, and deep shadows hung beneath his eyes.
He lifted one hand in a vague wave and muttered, “Everyone, continue,” before collapsing into his chair as though gravity had finally claimed him.
At first, nothing seemed out of place. Then his gaze landed on me.
It was subtle, barely a fraction of a second, but I caught it.
His eyes widened slightly before he masked it, something primal flickering there before it disappeared beneath a carefully neutral expression. It wasn’t surprise or confusion.
No. It was fear. Pure and unfiltered.