Chapter Four
Crowds Make Things Worse
Campus events were supposed to be harmless.
That was what Westbridge liked to advertise—community, school spirit, a break from academic stress. In reality, they were excuses for overcrowded spaces, forced interactions, and running into people you'd been actively avoiding.
I didn't know the spring social was happening until Aurora mentioned it over breakfast.
"You're coming with me," she said casually, scrolling through her phone.
I froze mid-sip. "I'm… what?"
"It's mandatory for my student leadership credit," she said. "And I don't feel like being there alone."
"I feel like being there at all is optional."
She shot me a look. "Evie."
I sighed. "You know he'll be there."
"So will half the campus," she replied. "You can blend in."
I wasn't convinced, but by evening I found myself standing on the quad anyway, lights strung overhead, music playing softly from speakers, groups of students clustered around food stalls and tables.
Westbridge looked different at night.
Less serious. Less sharp.
That didn't make me relax.
Ashton Sage stood near the edge of the crowd, half-turned away, one shoulder resting against a post. Theo and Cillian were nearby, mid-conversation. From a distance, he looked relaxed. Unbothered.
He didn't look at me.
That should've been reassuring.
Instead, it made my chest tighten.
I told myself it didn't matter. That he was just another person in a crowded space. I focused on the music, the lights, the normality of it all.
But every time the crowd shifted, I caught him in my peripheral vision.
Not staring.
Just… aware.
Aurora noticed it too.
I felt like I'm stalking his every movement.
We joined a small group from one of her classes, making polite conversation. I laughed at the right moments, nodded along, tried to be present. Still, my attention kept drifting.
My eyes caught him again, He spoke to his friends. Laughed once. Checked his phone. Looked around the quad like anyone else might.
Except every time his gaze passed over our side of the crowd, I felt it.
Not focused. Not obvious.
But intentional.
I shifted closer to Aurora without realizing it.
"You okay?" she asked.
"Yeah," I said. "Just tired."
That wasn't a lie.
At some point, the music grew louder, and the crowd pressed in. Someone brushed past me, another person bumped my shoulder. I stepped back automatically—and found myself closer to the edge of the quad.
Closer to where Ashton was standing.
I stopped.
He hadn't moved.
But now the distance between us was noticeably smaller.
For a moment, our eyes met.
It wasn't intense.
It wasn't confrontational.
It was brief. Measuring.
Then he looked away first.
My pulse stuttered anyway.
Aurora exhaled slowly beside me. "Okay. I don't like that."
"Neither do I," I said.
"But he's not doing anything," she pointed out.
"No," I agreed. "He's not."
That was the problem.
The rain started without warning.
One second, the quad was full of laughter and music. The next, cold drops splattered against the pavement, light at first—almost harmless—before quickly turning heavy.
People reacted instantly.
Groans, laughter, hurried goodbyes. Students scattered in every direction, ducking under umbrellas, jackets pulled over heads, drinks abandoned on tables.
"Great," Aurora muttered. "Of course."
We moved with the crowd, trying to get out before we were soaked. The lights blurred slightly as rain streaked across them, the ground already slick beneath our feet.
"Let's go through the east walkway," Aurora said. "It's closer."
We were halfway there when someone bumped into me hard enough to throw me off balance.
"Sorry—" the person called over their shoulder, already gone.
I turned, trying to keep up with Aurora, but another surge of people rushed between us.
"Aurora!" I called.
She looked back just as someone grabbed her arm, pulling her toward the covered path. She hesitated, clearly torn.
"I'll wait there!" she shouted. "By the notice boards!"
I nodded, though I wasn't sure she saw it.
The rain came down harder, soaking through my sweater in seconds. I glanced around, searching for the nearest shelter, and spotted the overhang near the old arts building—small, narrow, but dry.
I ran for it.
Only to realize I wasn't the only one with that idea.
Ashton was already there.
He stood near the wall, jacket damp at the shoulders, hands shoved into his pockets. He looked up when I stepped under the overhang, surprise flickering briefly across his face.
I stopped short.
For half a second, I considered stepping back into the rain.
That thought passed quickly.
Neither of us said anything.
The rain filled the silence, loud and steady, drowning out the music and chatter from the quad. Water dripped from the edge of the roof, splashing against the ground between us.
I stayed near the opposite side, staring out at the downpour like it was suddenly very interesting.
This was exactly what I'd been trying to avoid.