Her voice is quiet, but her words hit me hard. “Thanks for…noticing me.”
Noticing her is exactly what I’ve been doing. Noticing the exit plans she creates in her mind. The flinches. The way she fights for small victories.
“Yeah,” I say. “Anytime.”
Harlow nods once and slips back inside. I stay on the porch a second longer, staring into the yard like my brain isn’t sprinting. The pieces are close enough to make my ribs feel tight, and that’s a big problem.
Because if my suspicion is even remotely right—if these patterns mean anything?—
Then I’m not just pulled.
I’m trapped.
Kai’s trust on one side, her quiet on the other, and me standing in the middle, wanting to reach for something I’m not allowed to touch.
And the problem is that I can’t stop noticing Harlow Mercer.
14
HARLOW
The worst part about almost-panicking in public isn’t the panic.
It’s the after.
The next morning, when your body is technically fine, but your brain replays the entire thing like a highlight reel you didn’t ask for. Like it’s collecting evidence for a trial called Reasons You Should Never Leave Your Dorm Again.
I wake up to sunlight and the distant sound of someone laughing in the hallway, and my first thought is:
Why are people awake?
My second thought is:
Oh my God. The party.
My third thought—because my brain loves piling on—is:
Grayson Bennett followed you outside like you were a stray cat that needed rescuing.
Which is not what happened. Not exactly. He didn’t rescue me. He didn’t try to fix it. He just…noticed. Offered air. Stood there like the world wasn’t asking anything of me. And somehow, that’s worse. Because it makes it harder to file him underpeople I can avoid.
I sit up slowly and press my palms into my eyes until little stars pop behind my lids.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
You’re okay.
You’re okay.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand.
A notification waits from my brother. Of course.
Kai: u alive
I stare at the text.
My first instinct is to roll my eyes because yes, obviously. My second instinct is to feel guilty because he only asks because he cares. My third instinct is to get irritated because I don’t want to be checked on like I’m a malfunctioning appliance.
