Classes blurred together after that first day. Botany, History, Alchemy. The teachers were as strange as the students, but at least most of them left me alone. The one constant was Enid.
She stuck to me like I was her project, showing up at every meal, saving me seats in class, walking me to Ophelia Hall whether I wanted her to or not. At first I thought she was just being friendly because I was new, but after the first week, it was obvious she wasn't going anywhere.
And I didn't mind.
One night she showed up at my door with nail polish bottles clinking in a bag. "Roomie bonding time," she declared.
I frowned. "Do I look like someone who paints his nails?"
"Everyone looks like someone who paints their nails if I say so."
She plopped down on my bed, spreading colors out like treasure—black, silver, midnight blue. Against my better judgment, I let her paint one hand while she talked about her brothers, about how hard it was not to wolf out sometimes, about how the moon made her restless. Her voice filled the space, warm and busy, until my own thoughts went quiet.
When she was done, my nails were glossy black. She held up my hand, proud. "See? Looks amazing. You're welcome."
I rolled my eyes, but I didn't wipe it off.
By midterm, people had stopped whispering when I walked past. Or maybe they just didn't bother anymore, because Enid was always at my side, chattering, laughing, dragging me into the middle of things whether I wanted to be there or not.
One afternoon she convinced me to watch fencing practice with her. "It's like a soap opera," she whispered as Bianca and Xavier sparred in the middle of the room. "You just know someone's going to have a meltdown."
She wasn't wrong.
Afterward, she tugged me outside, plopping down on the bleachers under the fading light. She was quiet for once, just kicking her shoes against the wood.
"You know," she said, "you're actually not that scary."
"That's disappointing," I said.
She laughed softly. "I mean it. Everyone talks about you like you're cursed or dangerous, but you're just… Eli. A little broody, yeah, but you're nice. You listen."
I didn't know what to say to that. No one had ever called me nice before.
So I just sat there, staring at the orange sky, while she leaned against my shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world.
And for once, I didn't feel like pulling away.
By the end of the semester, we were inseparable. She snuck me into her dorm for movie nights, I covered for her when she skipped study hall, and she kept slipping cookies into my bag like I couldn't feed myself. People started calling us a "package deal," which made Enid beam and me roll my eyes.
But they weren't wrong.
It wasn't romantic. Not yet. But sometimes, when she laughed too loud or brushed her hand against mine in the hall, I wondered if it could be.
And that thought didn't scare me as much as it should have