Page 7 of Traveler (Soulbound #1)

Xander

The Air Basic s classroom feels less like a "whimsical cloud palace" and more like a trap. Too open. Too bright. The enchanted window framing endless sky makes my stomach drop—like I’m one misstep from tumbling into the void. Jared would’ve strutted in here like he owned the place, cracking jokes about the floating desks. But I’m not Jared. I’m the brother who stains his hoodies with ramen and types texts to his boyfriend three times before hitting "send."

I slink to the back row, knees knocking against the absurdly light desk. 90% air, 10% existential dread. The professor flips a book with a flick of her wrist, pages blurring. Magic. Always magic.

A girl plops down beside me, all chaotic energy and cherry-scented shampoo. I sink lower, gripping my bag like a shield. Don’t look. Don’t engage. But her foot taps a frenetic rhythm against the floor, and suddenly I’m hyperaware of her—the way she hums under her breath, the glitter pen she spins between her fingers.

Don’t look at her. Don’t even—

“—auditioning for ‘Most Mysterious Person in the Room’?”

My head whips toward her. The kin bond snaps into place. Mother fucking … gods damn it. Momma told us about the different bonds growing up. There is obviously the mate bond, but everyone knows about those. Way less common is a kin bond. Basically, think soulmate level best friend. This girl probably thinks I'm Jared. That's why she's being so nice.

“I—uh, I’m fine,” I stammer, face burning. Kale’s voice echoes in my head: “Babe, when you panic, you sound like a dial-up modem.”

She smirks, and I’m suddenly certain she can hear my thoughts. Impossible.

Professor Valen claps, and the desks rearrange, forcing me face-to-face with Cherry Shampoo Girl. Her grin widens.

“So… levitation?” I mumble, staring at the feather between us like it holds the secrets of the universe. “You, uh, guide the air. Like water.”

Wow. Riveting lecture, Professor Obvious.

She closes her eyes, and a breeze ripples through her hair. The feather lifts— both feathers—hovering at perfect heights. First try.

My jaw tightens. Show-off.

“Nah, my cousin taught me,” she says, sticking out her hand. “Alyssa.”

I recoil. Another one. They always want something—a story about Jared, a connection to the “fun” twin. “I’m not who you think I am,” I snap.

Her brow furrows. “Considering I don’t think anything about you…”

“Xander,” I grit out. There. Happy?

She leans in, undeterred. “You’re good at this. The air stuff.”

A traitorous warmth blooms in my chest. No. Nope. I focus on my feather, channeling the breeze until it dances in sync with hers. The kin bond prickles—a thread I didn’t ask for, stitching us together.

Too much.

When the bell rings, I bolt, nearly tripping over the cloud-patterned rug. Safe in the hallway, I clutch my phone, thumb hovering over Kale’s contact.

I glance back at the classroom. Alyssa’s laughing with the professor, her feather still floating midair. The kin bond tugs, insistent.

Maybe tomorrow, I think, fleeing toward the stairwell. Maybe never