Page 2 of In Shadows We Dance

Out of all the students in school, why did it have to be him?

And I just spilled my drink all over him.

Fuck my life.

“I … I’m sorry.” The words feel flimsy as I grab a napkin from the closest table. “It was an accident.” I hold it out to him like a peace offering.

His gaze moves from my face to the spreading stain, then to the napkin. Instead of taking it, he drags his fingers over the wet fabric, smearing orange across white in deliberate strokes. Then his head tilts, eyes on me again. In my horrified state, it’s like he’s considering what to do with me. His expression is unreadable, but there’s something about it that puts my nerves on edge.

“Is spilling drinks your way of making an impression?” His voice carries across the silent room.

I nod, realize what I’m doing, and shake my head. His friends snicker, leaning back in their chairs, clearly anticipating the show about to start. One of them, Monty Grier, grins.

“She’s got some nerve, huh? What a way to try and get your attention, Wren.”

One corner of Wren’s mouth kicks up at his friend’s words. “You trying to get my attention, Ballerina?”

My blood turns to ice.

Ballerina?

How does he know?

I’ve never told anyone about my dancing.

It’smysecret.Mysanctuary.

Wren’s eyes narrow slightly when I don’t reply, and he takes a step forward. The space between us shrinks, and the closer he comes toward me, the harder it is to breathe.

“Let me give you a little bit of advice.” His voice is low, and I’m not sure anyone else can hear him. “Don’t attract my attention again. You might not like the outcome.”

I’m pretty sure anything I say in response will make this situation worse, so I stay silent, and lower the hand still holding onto the napkin. He holds my gaze for another long moment,eyes sharp, and I feel every second of it like a physical touch. Just as I’m about to explode from holding my breath, he steps past me, brushing his shoulder against mine in the process. The contact is brief, but deliberate.

His friends push up from their seats and follow him, laughing and nudging each other as they pass me, while I stand frozen to the spot. I’m still clutching the napkin, and my mind is spinning.

The noise in the cafeteria slowly returns to normal, but the air feels different—thicker, oppressive.

Everyone saw what happened. Everyone saw me mess up. Everyone saw …me.

And now … Wren Carlisle knows I exist.

Forcing myself to move, I head to the table I’d aimed for. In my head, everyone’s watching, tracking my steps. Logically, I know the second Wren left, they lost interest. But it doesn’t feel that way.

I set down my tray, but don’t bother touching the food. The thought of eating makes me feel sick, and my stomach twists as the stories I’ve heard about Wren echo in my head.

How he doesn’t get angry, he gets even.

How he can destroy someone’s reputation without laying a single finger on them.

How he likes to play with his prey before striking.

He’s like a storm gathering on the horizon. Beautiful to look at from a distance, but deadly if he gets too close.

Don’t be ridiculous. He knows it was an accident.

But will that matter to Wren?

I jump up. There’s no point in me staying here. I’m not going to eat. I’m just going to rehash what happened over and over in my head. I gather my things and head for the door. I have a free period next, and I need to get away. Away from the noise, from the stares I’m likely just imagining, fromeverything. So, I go to the one place I know no one else will be. The only place where I feel like I can breathe.

---