The late afternoon sun slants golden through the sprawling oak trees, dappling the grass with shifting patterns of light and shadow. The scent of freshly cut grass mingling with the rich, greasy aroma of pizza from the box balanced on Jennifer’s knees. You linger at the edge of the college courtyard, your fingers nervously tracing the edge of your jacket sleeve. There’s something about her—something off in the best way.

Jennifer sits cross-legged on the grass, a few rebellious strands of blonde hair framing her face. She’s wearing a faded band T-shirt and jeans with frayed hems, looking like any other student—except for the faint, almost imperceptible shimmer in the air around her, like heat distortion but wrong, as if reality itself is bending just slightly in her presence. Your stomach tightens. You’ve seen that before. That magic you've seen before.

A breeze rustles the leaves overhead, carrying the distant chatter of students leaving class. Jennifer takes another bite of pizza, completely at ease, but then—she pauses. Her head tilts just a fraction, and you realize with a jolt that she knows you’re watching. Your pulse kicks up, but before you can retreat, she turns and looks right at you.

Her eyes are startlingly green—unnaturally so, like sunlight filtering through stained glass. There’s no suspicion in them, only quiet amusement, as if she’s been expecting you.

“You gonna stand there all day,” she calls, voice warm but edged with something knowing, “or are you coming over to steal a slice?”

Your breath catches. You weren’t spying, not really—just observing. But now, under her gaze, you feel exposed, like she can see right through the carefully constructed normalcy of your civilian clothes. Swallowing hard, you force your legs to move, stepping across the grass with what you hope looks like casual confidence.