Page 79 of Lured By Shadows

“New friend?” she asked.

“Sorta,” I shrugged. Calling him a friend felt easier than explaining that he was really nothing.

“Well, at least he brought you home.” She sniffed the air. “How much did you drink?”

“Too much,” I muttered. “It didn’t taste very good.”

She smiled, choosing not to lecture. “As long as you were being safe.”

“Of course, Ma.” I wandered into the kitchen and peeled open a yogurt like it was treasure. “Did you see the pictures?”

“Oh yes,” she said, brightening. “Looked like you had a lovely day. So good to see you enjoying yourself.”

I hummed, swallowing another spoonful. “How was work?”

“Not much going on while the Scarbroughs are out of town,” she said lightly.

I paused mid-bite. “So you’ll be busy when they get back?”

Culver Scarbrough. God, I missed him already like a psycho.

Not in some soft, dreamy way either. It felt deeper than that, heavier. Like my body had already adjusted to his presence and didn’t know what to do now that he was gone. Realizing it made embarrassment crawl up my spine because no distraction—not Carter, not the party, not the alcohol—had managed to dull it for even a second.

If anything, trying to replace the feeling had only intensified it.

Carter was easy to walk away from. Culver wasn’t.

I could still remember the cool glide of his fingers over my shoulder, the weight of his stare locking me in place, and the sharp mint scent that always seemed to follow him whenever he stepped too close. Every memory carried the same quiet intensity that made it impossible to shake him from my head.

I didn’t want to call it obsession. Maybe attachment was a safer word. Even that felt risky.

Still, there was something pulling me toward him no matter how hard I tried to redirect myself. Something humiliatingly helpless about the way I kept circling back to him in my thoughts. Two days without seeing him already felt stretched thin and wrong, like time had started moving unevenly without him around.

And when he came back—and I knew he would—I caught myself hoping he’d still look at me the same way. Like I held some kind of importance to him beyond circumstance. Like maybe, if I got close enough, I could finally reach whatever part of himself he kept hidden so carefully from everyone else.

“I actually have an important meeting when they return,” my ma said. “Might take up a good chunk of time.”

I sighed. “Make time for me after that, ’kay?”

She leaned in and kissed my forehead. “I’ll tell Julius I need a day off to spend with my girl.”

“Good,” I said with a faint smile. “Can’t wait.”

“I’m heading to bed,” she added, turning toward the stairs. “Good night.”

“G’night, Ma.”

I dragged myself upstairs and collapsed onto my bed, still carrying that faint trace of beer and whatever bargain-bin perfume had clung to me during the night. I was too exhausted—or maybe just too emotionally checked out—to bother with a shower.

Lying there beneath the dim glow of my room, I stared up at the ceiling and wondered if any of it had actually meant anything at all.

21

Iwas fighting sleep like it was some stubborn opponent I couldn’t quite shake off, my eyelids heavy and unyielding. My head dipped forward in slow, embarrassing nods that kept pulling me under before I could catch myself. The steady drone of the lecture washed over me without ever really landing, each word slipping past without sticking. The air in the room felt thick and stagnant, too confined for comfort, until my chin jerked up and I blinked hard, dragging myself back to the present.

Four sets of eyes were fixed on me.

Not taking notes, not on their phones, not even pretending to care about the lecture. Just watching with a mix of curiosity and faint amusement that made me wonder, for a split second, if I’d actually drooled right there in front of them.