The cafeteria was always too loud.
The crash of trays, the endless chatter, the laughter that seemed to bounce off the walls—it pressed against my head until I wanted to curl into myself. But Mia insisted we eat here, because "that's how you meet people," and she wasn't taking no for an answer.
So, I sat in the corner of a crowded room, picking at a plate of food I didn't have an appetite for, trying not to look like I was suffocating.
"You need to loosen up," Mia scolded, sipping her soda. "It's not high school anymore, Arielle. No one's paying that much attention to you."
Her words made me flinch. If only she knew.
I glanced around, careful, casual—or at least I hoped it looked that way. Students laughed in groups, couples leaned too close across tables, the smell of greasy fries and burnt coffee hung in the air. Normal. Completely normal.
But the prickle was back.
That crawling sensation, like unseen fingers brushing my skin. The certainty of being watched.
My stomach twisted. I told myself not to look. Not to give in. But I couldn't help it.
My eyes swept the cafeteria—and stopped.
There.
Across the room, half-shadowed by the angle of the light, he sat. Dark hair, sharp features, an unreadable expression. His tray of food was untouched. His eyes were on me.
Always on me.
I froze, my fork slipping from my fingers and clattering against the plate. Mia blinked at me. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," I whispered too quickly, forcing my gaze down, my hand trembling as I picked up the fork again. "Just… nothing."
But it wasn't nothing.
Every nerve in my body screamed that something was wrong. That he was wrong.
Mia launched into a story about one of her professors, her voice animated, but I couldn't hear her. Not really. My ears buzzed with the sound of my own pulse. I risked another glance, only to find the chair across the room empty.
Gone.
My chest tightened.
Was I imagining it? Had I really seen him?
I swallowed hard, pushing food around my plate. Maybe Mia was right. Maybe I was just paranoid, too wound up from moving to a new city. Maybe—
The thought died when I felt it again.
The air shifted behind me. A subtle awareness. Someone standing close—too close.
My body went rigid. Slowly, I turned.
He was there.
Not across the room anymore. Not a shadow at a distance. He was only a few feet away, passing behind me with smooth, unhurried steps, his shoulder brushing near mine as he moved toward the exit.
For a split second, our eyes met.
Cold. Sharp. Unblinking.
My breath caught, my heart slamming painfully against my ribs.
Then he was gone, swallowed by the crowd, leaving only the ghost of his presence trailing behind.
I forced myself to sit still, to breathe, to act normal, but inside—
inside, I was unraveling.
Because this wasn't paranoia anymore.
It was real.
And whoever he was, he wasn't just watching me.
He was closing in.