Irene's POV
That night, sleep came slowly. I tossed and turned, my mind restless with thoughts of Adrian Blackwood. Eventually, my eyes fluttered shut—only for my dreams to take a turn I didn't expect.
The scene shifted. I wasn't myself anymore.
Instead, I stood—no, he stood—before the tall iron gates of Westbrook Academy. Students passed by in clusters, laughing and chatting, but his steps were steady, unhurried. Every movement carried a quiet confidence, the kind that came not from arrogance but from knowing exactly who he was.
Adrian's gaze swept over the campus with a sharpness that cut through the noise. He felt the stares, the whispers, the awe. He didn't need their approval. Their curiosity only fueled the wall he had built around himself.
Don't get too close, his thoughts echoed. Don't let them in.
And yet… when his eyes settled on one face in the crowd—hers—something shifted. The boldness in his stride faltered, just for a second. He hadn't expected that. He hadn't expected her.
The dream blurred, voices fading into silence.
Irene gasped and sat up in bed, her heart racing. For a moment, she could still feel it—the weight of his thoughts, the chill of his presence, the strange pull she couldn't explain.
It was only a dream, she told herself. Just a dream.
But deep down, she knew it was more than that.
The day dragged longer than Adrian expected. Westbrook Academy wasn't much different from his old school—same crowded hallways, same noisy students, same shallow looks people threw his way. What made it different was him.
Or rather, how he had decided to be.
He wasn't here to make friends. He wasn't here to impress teachers or charm classmates. He was here to finish his year quietly, with as little drama as possible. His father's orders echoed in his mind: Keep your head down. Don't cause trouble again.
Still, blending in wasn't easy when every step he took seemed to turn heads.
During lunch, Adrian sat alone at the edge of the cafeteria, pulling out his tray as though the chatter around him didn't exist. People whispered—he could feel it—but he ignored them, focusing instead on scanning the room.
That was when his eyes found her again.
Irene Walker who sat with two girls who were clearly her closest friends—Anna and Elsa, if he remembered right from class introductions. Anna was bubbly, expressive, almost too loud for her own good. Elsa carried herself with the confidence of someone who enjoyed being admired. They both fit easily into the world around them.
But Irene… she was different.
She laughed with her friends, but there was something careful about the way she did it. Something guarded, like she lived in two worlds at once—one she showed, and one she kept hidden. When their eyes met across the cafeteria, just for a second, she looked away quickly, pretending to focus on her food.
Adrian smirked faintly. She wasn't like the others, and that intrigued him more than he cared to admit.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of introductions and new classes. Teachers seemed impressed with my quiet confidence. Students seemed drawn to my silence, mistaking it for mystery. I let them think whatever they wanted.
But when the final bell rang and he stepped out into the evening air, one thought lingered in his mind, clear and sharp.
Irene Walker.
She wasn't going to be easy to ignore