8. Chapter Eight - Sunlight Stars #2
“He does seem to have an interest in me,” I admitted, and it sounded flattering until I remembered half the campus acted like he might eat people. “Whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing, I honestly don’t know yet. And I don’t think I’ll be figuring that out today.”
Before either of us could say more, the professor entered, his presence moving across the room with the dull authority of routine. We both turned our attention forward, pretending our thoughts weren’t still tangled elsewhere.
By the end of class, my mind had drifted away from Culver entirely, worn down by lectures, note-taking, and the simple passage of time pulling me back into the rhythm of the day.
When the room began to clear and Kiera started packing up her things, I took the opportunity.
“Hey,” I said, adjusting the strap of my bag. “Do you know Oliver and Sienna?”
She paused, fingers hovering over her book. “A bit,” she replied. “I have not spoken with them, but they are… recognizable faces.” Her smile was polite but distant.
I hesitated, then pushed on. “They invited me to the park this Saturday, and I thought you would like to come too.”
Her expression shifted almost imperceptibly. Her gaze slid past my shoulder, focusing on something unseen, and then she shook her head slowly.
“Oh,” she said softly, too softly. “I am a bit busy on weekends, so I cannot. But thank you for thinking of me.”
Her voice lifted at the end, brightening artificially. Then she turned and left, her steps quick and purposeful. She didn’t look back.
I stood there for a moment, staring at the space she’d just occupied, a tightness twisting in my stomach. The way she’d hurried off made me wonder if I’d pushed too far or stumbled right up against something she wasn’t about to share.
I barely had time to sit with that knot before I felt it again: the subtle shift in the air, the awareness of eyes on me without even having to turn.
My arms crossed over my chest on instinct as I swung toward the door, steeling myself for whatever smooth, loaded thing Culver was about to throw my way next.
He stood there like he had every right to be, his posture relaxed, his gaze sharp and observant. “About that refusal from earlier,” he began, his voice smooth, like silk pulled tight over something harder beneath.
I lifted a brow and shifted my weight onto one hip, letting sarcasm carry me through the moment. “Okay. Hi to you too.” Manners were apparently optional when he looked like that.
The faintest hint of a smile tugged at his mouth, his humor always understated, tucked into the spaces between his words.
“I apologize,” he said, and the sincerity in it felt practiced, like he’d learned how to deploy it effectively. He gestured toward the door with exaggerated courtesy. “Hello, little lamb. How was class?”
I let out a long breath that bordered on a laugh. “Boring. Now go on, make your big proposal, Culver. I’m dying to hear how you plan to lure me into your home.”
He didn’t even blink. “Since I swore that no harm would come to you while in my presence, I would like for you to come to my home.” His voice remained even. “I have already visited yours. It would be only polite to return the courtesy. Before you refuse, please consider my invitation carefully.”
A laugh bubbled out of me despite myself because, of course, he’d seen my no coming from a mile away. Part of me still questioned whether this was just another calculated move to get me alone or if there was something genuine underneath all of it.
There were plenty of reasons I should’ve said no, starting with how little I actually knew about him and all the whispers painting him as someone dangerous.
But standing there with his gaze fixed steadily on mine, it became harder to hold onto those thoughts.
There was something steadying about the way he looked at me, calm and unwavering, like he already knew I’d eventually say yes.
“I was gonna say no,” I admitted, a reluctant smile tugging at my mouth, “but I guess it wouldn’t hurt to at least check it out. Out of courtesy, of course.”
Historically speaking, those were probably famous last words in horror movies.
The cold hit the second he pushed the door open, slicing straight through my flimsy crop top and into my bones. I curled in on myself without thinking, a shiver running through me even as I tried to play it off.
Culver stopped, his brows knitting together with real concern.
“Just a moment,” he said, and then he was gone, moving with quick, fluid grace.
When he returned, he held out a thick leather jacket, dark and unmistakably expensive. My mouth opened in protest before he even spoke.
“I don’t need it,” I said, even as another shiver betrayed me.
He didn’t respond right away. He just watched me, his expression unreadable. Then he stepped closer, his voice softening. “You truly are a stubborn little lamb.”
There he went again with the shepherd flirting. A smirk followed. “Close your eyes.”
Heat crept into my cheeks. “Why should I?”
“Trust me, Ira.”
It was the way he said my name that got to me, drawing it out slow and heavy like it carried extra care just for him. I paused, then finally closed my eyes, telling myself it wasn’t about trusting him at all, just needing to get warm, even if that excuse felt a little thin.
The jacket settled over my shoulders, heavy and warm. His scent wrapped around me instantly, rich and recognizable. My breath caught when his hands brushed lightly against my arms while he adjusted it, careful and unhurried, before stepping back again like none of it had affected him at all.
I cracked one eye open, cheeks puffing with mild irritation, but before I could comment, he spoke again, his tone laced with mock wonder. “What a beautiful jacket. Tell me, where did you find such a stunning piece?”
I sighed, unable to stay annoyed. “A mysterious stranger put it on me,” I replied dryly. “Guess it’s mine now.”
He reached out, brushing my hair gently before opening the door for me once more. “What a gentleman,” he mused. “You should ask him his name next time.”
“I think a thank you will work just fine,” I said as I stepped past him, pulling the jacket closer. His cologne clung to the leather, rich and faintly minty, unmistakably him. “So… thank you.”
“You never have to thank me,” he replied, his voice low.
That sounded dangerously close to something a man said before emotionally ruining someone.
The walk to his car passed in charged silence, quiet tension hanging between us like it always seemed to.
When he opened the door for me, I slid inside, trying to brush off the way his gaze lingered a little too long.
I settled into the seat, where the close air only intensified his scent, wrapping around everything until it started pulling at me in an overwhelming way.
I leaned back hard against the cushion, just to steady myself and keep my head clear.
He climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine but didn’t reach for his seatbelt. I watched him for a beat before sighing. “If you won’t do it, I will,” I muttered, leaning across the console.
The second I hovered over him, the air between us shifted. A pulse fluttered low in my stomach as the back of my hand brushed his chest while I pulled the belt across him and clicked it into place.
Massive mistake.
When I finally looked up, his gaze was already fixed on mine, intense and unreadable from far too close.
The silence tightened around us. Instinct told me to pull away, to put space between us before my thoughts spiraled any further, but just as I started shifting back, his fingers wrapped around my upper arm in a slow, steady grip that stopped me completely.
I let out a soft gasp, my head turning just enough that our faces hovered inches apart. “What?” I whispered, barely audible. His touch remained gentle, but there was something purposeful beneath it.
His brows pulled together slightly, like he was holding something back. His lips parted as though he meant to speak, but no words came. Instead, he swallowed once and exhaled quietly, cool mint brushing faintly across my cheek.
For one suspended second, I couldn’t tell whether the tightness in my chest came from wanting him to let go… or from hoping he wouldn’t.