The afternoon sun cast long shadows as Rhys and I walked toward the school gate. Just before exiting, I spotted Alex in the parking lot, perched on his big bike, half-hidden in the shadows. His smile—predatory and cold—sent a chill down my spine. I faltered.
“What’s up?” Rhys asked, noticing my hesitation.
“Nothing,” I mumbled, unwilling to alarm him or give Alex the satisfaction of knowing he’d gotten to me. Rhys hadn’t seen him, but I had. That twisted smile was unmistakable.
The walk home blurred into background noise. Rhys carried the conversation, but I barely responded. My mind was stuck on Alex—his presence, his smirk, the dread he stirred. Rhys didn’t press, sensing I needed space. His quiet understanding meant everything.
At my gate, Rhys paused. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Just
