“I said we couldalsonot look like that. Implying we weren’t already.”
“That’s not what that implied.”
Kyron sighs and pulls the phone back out. “We were making sure you had one of us in your classes. That’s all.”
“Why?”
He looks at me like the answer should be obvious. “Because you don’t know anyone. And after yesterday with Harrick, people are going to—”
“Kyron.” Locke’s voice is low cutting across the room in warning.
Kyron stops. His jaw tightens but he doesn’t finish the sentence.
“It’s your first day,” Rane says, stepping in. “We just wanted to make sure you weren’t alone. That’s all.”
“Uh, yeah, thanks.” I say trying not to sound awkward.
I try to focus on breathing, but with the five of them, all in the same room, all looking at me it feels impossible. My skin feels too tight again, that same prickling awareness I had yesterday.
Fuck.
The fridge opens beside me and Beckett holds out a glass of orange juice without comment. “Morning.”
I take it because he’s already pressing it into my hand. “Morning.”
He moves past me toward the table and I catch Vaelor watching me from the stove. Not the food. Me. When our eyes meet, he looks away too fast, turning back to the eggs like they suddenly need all his attention.
My face feels warm. I focus on the orange juice.
“Breakfast,” Vaelor says, and suddenly everyone’s moving.
Plates come out of cabinets while Rane grabs silverware and Kyron sets down his phone to help. Someone puts toast on a plate and hands it to someone else who hands it to me. Beckett pulls out a chair and Locke pushes off the wall to take a seat.
I blink and somehow I’m sitting at the table with a full plate in front of me.
What the fuck just happened?
They’re already eating, already talking about something else, and I’m still trying to figure out how I got here. I pick up my fork and take a bite without really tasting it.
By the time Kyron stands and grabs his bag, my plate is half empty and I don’t remember eating any of it.
“We should go,” he says. “Don’t want to be late.”
I grab my schedule and follow him out.
The day is exactly what they promised. Every class, one of them is there. Kyron in Territorial Protocol, catching my eye when I get lost and mouthing “later” like he’s already planning our study session. Rane in House History, whispering commentary until the professor glares us into silence. Vaelor in Resonance Studies, a wall of calm between me and everyone else.
And everywhere—the staring. The whispers. Eyes tracking me like I’m something dangerous, something wrong, something that doesn’t belong. I keep my head down and try to focus on the lectures, but I understand maybe half of what’s being said. Fifteen years is a lot to miss.
By the end of the day, I’m exhausted and my skin still prickles every time one of them gets too close. Rane’s shoulder bumping mine in the hallway. Vaelor’s hand on my back, guiding me through a door. Kyron leaning in to say something, his breath warm against my ear.
I don’t know what my body is doing. I’m choosing not to think about it.
When the last class before Mark Theory ends, it’s Beckett waiting outside the door.
“One more,” he says.
We walk. He doesn’t fill the silence, and I’m grateful for it. Almost like I can just exist, and that feels oddly nice.
