Page 19

I couldn't tell when I nodded off, but here I was. I woke up to silence. Not the kind that came with sleep, not the peaceful quiet of a hotel room at night—but the kind that observed. The quiet that pressed against my chest, immobile and weighty, as if the room itself was holding its breath.

The air was colder than it should have been.

That was when I noticed him.

Ethan lay in his bed, half-hidden under the blankets, his back rising and falling with slow, steady breaths. But his eyes—God, his eyes.

They were open.

And glowing.

A deep, unnatural glow pulsed within them, something foreign, something wrong. It wasn't the soft reflection of a streetlamp or the glow of a phone screen. This light didn't emanate from anything. It simply was.

My blood turned to ice. I hoped I was dreaming, that all this was my overactive, sleep-deprived brain playing tricks on me. But the longer I stared, the more I knew.

He was looking directly at me.

And then he smiled.

Before I could move, he launched at me.

°*°

I sat up with a start.

It was a dream. No. A nightmare. Despite feeling as real as anything could be.

My chest rose and fell rapidly, gasping breaths as I fought to realize where I was. The room remained dark, the first light of dawn creeping through the curtains. No glowing eyes. No eerie silence. No sinister movements.

Just a dream—a nightmare.

The bathroom door creaked open.

I rolled my head just in time to see Ethan come out, rubbing a towel through his soaking wet hair. He was naked from the chest up, his muscular body visible in the pale light. I quickly looked away, pushing blankets off me.

"You good?" he asked gruffly from sleep.

I didn't say anything. I just grabbed my clothes and headed into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me.

It wasn't real.

I kept telling myself that as I turned on the shower, but even as the warm water pounded against my skin, the nightmare clung to me like a second skin. My fists were balled as I stood leaning against the cold of the tile

This trip wasn't turning out to be the way I wanted.

I was supposed to stick to the documentary, keep my head down, create something worth doing. Instead, I was partnered with him. I was now having nightmares—nightmares I was pretty damn sure weren't random.

I knew those eyes.

The way they glowed. The way they burned me, full of something harsh, something unhuman. It wasn't Ethan. Not precisely.

But my stepdad's eyes had glowed that way as well.

When he struck me.

When he raged at me with words, fists, with something darker than both.

I glanced down at the scar beneath my belly. The ridged, jagged line was invisible under the steam. A reminder. A wound healed but never faded.

I'd learned to live with demons. Forced myself. Because they filled every corner of me. Because I was not going to let the past own me.

But now?

Now Ethan was starting to feel like a reminder.

I drew a deep breath and shut off the water. I had to get my head together.

By the time I came out, dressed and meticulously tucking my shirt so that the scar would be hidden, I had myself in hand. Or so I told myself.

Ethan was on his bed, laptop open, scrolling through video. When he saw me, he turned the screen.

"Check this out."

I hesitated, then leaned in, expecting the worst. Given Ethan’s stereotype, I was prepared for over-the-top transitions, ridiculous sound effects, or—at best—something barely salvageable.

But as the footage rolled, I found myself… impressed.

The shots were clean. The pacing felt natural.

The color grading brought out the depth of the forest greens and the sunlit golds of the creatures we’d recorded yesterday.

He had trimmed down the shaky clips, added subtle fades where necessary, and even synced the background music perfectly to the movements of a herd of luminescent antelope-like creatures bounding through the grass.

I blinked. “Wait… this is actually good.”

I grinned knowing that at least now we had something solid to show principal Catherine.

Ethan smirked, clearly pleased with himself. “Duh. Did you think I’d just slap some random cuts together? I’ve got taste, Ghost boy.”

I hated that he was right.

“I—yeah, I just wasn’t expecting this.” I hesitated before adding, “Good job.”

Ethan’s smirk softened into something more genuine. “Well, well, well. Did Clark the Perfectionist just give me a compliment?”

I rolled my eyes and turned away, shoving my things into my bag. “Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

He let out a dramatic sigh. “Too late. I’m framing this moment in my memory forever.”

I ignored him.

Because the momentary warmth of our conversation was already fading under the weight of last night’s dream.

I moved my eyes away.

It was brief. One second. Just long enough that even I wasn't entirely sure if I'd done it by accident.

But I knew.

A shift.

As if a little part of me was already starting to retreat.

By the time we were all packed and boarding the bus, the energy levels had skyrocketed.

Joy was the first to kick things off. She stood at the front of the aisle, stretching dramatically.

“Alright, you heathens. Since we have a long ride ahead, it’s time for—drumroll, please—THE JOY CONCERT!”

Shun, sitting by the window, tapped out an unenthusiastic drumroll against her phone case.

Ethan grinned. “Finally, some quality entertainment.”

“Oh no. Not again,” I muttered.

Before I could even attempt to stop her, Joy took a deep breath and launched into a gloriously off-key rendition of some overly dramatic ballad.

Max immediately joined in, his voice somehow worse.

Ethan, never one to be left out of chaos, threw in unnecessary vocal runs like he was auditioning for a fantasy-world version of a talent show.

Shun hummed along. Just a little. As usual.

Mia had the camera up, recording the disaster.

I sank into my seat, wishing I could disappear.

Fred, who was next to me, sighed. “I don’t even know what song this is supposed to be.”

“Doesn’t matter. They’ll butcher it anyway.”

Joy’s voice cracked spectacularly on a high note.

Max cackled. “Beautiful.”

I needed to escape.

I stood up, grabbed my bag, and turned to Fred. “Switch seats with me?”

He blinked. “Uh, why?”

“I need to focus on my research.” It was the best excuse I had.

Fred shrugged and scooted over. I slid into his former spot, putting more distance between me and Ethan.

Joy narrowed her eyes at me. She knew.

But she didn’t say anything.

We drove to the next destination. A park.

The nature park was, objectively, incredible.

We were surrounded by towering trees with glowing veins running through their bark, shimmering in the filtered light.

The air smelled crisp, carrying hints of moss and distant rain.

Strange creatures flitted between branches—some with iridescent wings, others with multiple eyes that blinked curiously at us before vanishing.

If I hadn’t been drowning in my own head, I might have appreciated it more.

The wildlife club wasted no time setting up equipment. Mia handled the main camera, Joy dictated the filming schedule like a military commander, and everyone else scrambled to keep up.

“Mia, get a slow pan of those crystal-backed lizards.”

“Fred, make sure the audio’s clean. No weird background noises.”

“Ethan, Max—” she turned to them. “I’m putting you on observation notes.”

Max groaned. “Lame.”

Ethan nudged him. “At least we’re not carrying the equipment.”

Joy ignored them.

I was supposed to be taking notes too, but my focus was shot. I kept catching myself glancing at Ethan, half-expecting his eyes to glow in the shadows.

It was irrational.

I knew that.

But knowing didn’t stop the unease curling in my stomach.

I buried myself in work, forcing my thoughts onto something—anything—else.

The day went by, and we found ourselves driving for the next stop—a motel somewhere across the country.

The energy from earlier had worn off, leaving most people half-asleep or scrolling through their phones.

I should’ve been tired too. Instead, my brain wouldn’t shut up.

The day had gone fine. Better than before, even. But the fog in my mind wouldn’t clear, and the more I thought about it, the more I realized—

I had been actively avoiding Ethan.

I wasn’t obvious about it. Not really. Just small things. Choosing a different seat. Staying near the others. Making sure there was always some kind of buffer between us.

Maybe he hadn’t noticed. Maybe I was overthinking.

But as we pulled up to another rundown motel for the night, I caught Ethan watching me.

Not in an intense or suspicious way.

Just… watching.

I didn’t like it.

I grabbed my bag and headed inside, pretending not to notice.

I was halfway through brushing my teeth when I saw him.

Ethan stood by the window, hoodie up, hands in his pockets. The same posture he had the other day when he was sneaking out.

Automatically, I knew it—today was not editing-day, it was sneaking-out day.

I set my toothbrush down and leaned against the sink, watching him through the mirror.

He threw me one glance as if he knew exactly how to drag me out of the room at midnight.

I sighed. "Really?"

No response.

I dried my hands, dragging out the moment, hoping maybe he'd change his mind. But of course, he didn’t.

"Ethan." My voice was sharper this time.

He pulled open the window.

I swore under my breath. "Where the hell are you even going?"

Still, nothing.

Then, without a word, he slipped outside.

Damn it.

I grabbed my jacket and climbed out after him.