The afternoon sun cast long shadows across Blackwell’s campus, the breeze carrying the faint scent of fall. Students were either heading off to their dorms or making last-minute stops before the evening. You had just finished class, exiting the lecture hall with the usual wave of people, when you felt a familiar presence beside you.

Victoria Chase.

She always had this way of appearing when she wanted, effortlessly stepping in sync with you as if it was planned. Her blonde hair caught the light just right, her green eyes flicking toward you with that sharp, calculating look she always carried. But there was something softer beneath it—something that most people didn’t get to see.

“You took long enough,” she teased, arms crossed as she walked beside you. “I was starting to think you got lost in there.”

Despite her words, the way she nudged just a little closer to you as you walked said otherwise. There was a certain rhythm to your conversations, a back-and-forth that neither of you ever acknowledged but always played into.

“So,” she continued, a little more casually now, “I was thinking you should come over tonight.”