Silence fell between us. The weight of it made me glance at his face. He wasn’t glaring, wasn’t annoyed. If anything, he looked caught off guard, like my words had landed somewhere deeper than I intended.

When I tied off the braid, I leaned back to admire my work. His hair looked good—better than good. Neat, intentional, almost regal.

“You should close your eyes,” I told him.

His brows rose. That was the only warning he got before I tipped a handful of water over his face. It streamed down his sharp cheekbones, dripping from his lashes and the curve of his jaw. He sputtered faintly, blinking at me, and I fought back a grin.

But when my gaze slipped to his chest, my amusement faltered. The black residue still smeared across his skin, thick over his shoulders and torso where he’d been bare outside.

I hesitated. I could stop here, retreat to my bed. But something in me twisted at the thought of pulling back, like he might read my silence as disgust. And the truth was… it wasn’t disgust I felt. Not even close.

So I shifted closer, the towel around his waist suddenly impossible to ignore, and dipped my hand into the basin. “Hold still,” I whispered, pressing the cool water against his chest.

The second my palm slid across his skin, his hand shot up, catching my wrist in a strong grip. My breath caught as my eyes lifted to his face. He was flushed, bright red across his cheekbones, and that was when I realized just how close we were. Close enough that if I leaned forward even a little, our mouths would touch.

Heat surged through me. The thought came unbidden, reckless: I could kiss him.

I jerked back, heart pounding, my own face on fire. “Um—yeah. Washing your chest is probably… too personal. I wasn’t really thinking.”

I started to stand, to retreat before the air between us grew any heavier, but his grip didn’t release. Instead, Liam gave a sharp tug, pulling me forward. I stumbled closer, caught off balance, and then his mouth was on mine.

At first, it was barely there—a brush, a testing touch. My pulse exploded in my veins. He pressed harder when I didn’t pull away, lips firm and sure. Then his tongue flicked against my lower lip, tentative but insistent, asking permission.

I parted my lips before I could think better of it, the taste of him filling me. Salt. Heat. Something sharp and unfamiliar that made me shiver.

And then—

“Um, hello?” Athina’s dry voice cut straight through the haze. “I’m still here. I really don’t want to see you two fuck.”

I tore away so fast I nearly fell backward. My face was hot enough to burn. I didn’t dare look at him, or at her. Embarrassment flooded me, stronger than anything else. The ghost was supposed to be my grandmother—if what the headmaster said was true. And she’d just watched me kiss someone.

Liam let go of my wrist at last. I scrambled back to my bed, climbing under the covers without looking at either of them. Closing my eyes seemed like the only escape left. Sleep. Pretend none of this happened.

Her aura glowed before me, soft and steady, the same neutral grey as always. It hadn’t even flickered when I kissed her. No hint of excitement, no shift into warmth or color. I couldn’t read her at all. And that unsettled me more than I wanted to admit.

What did she feel? Did she regret it? Want more?

I didn’t even know what I felt. The kiss was reckless. Stupid. But the way her lips parted under mine… I hadn’t wanted to stop.

Most people recoiled from me. Girls, especially. My presence was enough to disgust them, and the thought of my touch only made it worse. Grace, though—she had insulted me earlier, but then she apologized. She helped me when no one else would’ve even come near. She touched me without flinching.

The thought coiled deep inside, dangerous and tempting.

I forced it away, finishing cleaning the last of the black residue from my skin before tugging on a clean pair of sweats. Some part of me burned to chase the ghost out of the room, to lean over Grace’s bed and finish what we had started.

But I didn’t.

The sun woke me, spilling in through a window I hadn’t even noticed yesterday when I first dragged myself into this dorm room. I’d been too drained to pay attention to the light or the layout. No tossing and turning, no nightmares clawing at me, just blank sleep until morning. That in itself was unusual—and almost unsettling.

Groaning, I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, stretching stiff muscles as I sat up. The first thing I noticed was that Liam was gone. Not exactly shocking. He probably didn’t want to deal with me after what happened last night—the kiss neither of us seemed to know what to do with. Athina was gone too, which was a surprise. Usually, she lingered like a stubborn shadow.

Knowing I couldn’t stay in yesterday’s filthy clothes forever, I pushed myself to my feet and peeled them off piece by piece. My jacket hit the floor with a heavy thud, the fabric rough with dirt and a few fresh tears. I counted at least six new holes to join the dozens already hidden under my crooked little patches. They weren’t neat, and most weren’t even the right color, but they were mine. I’d done the work myself, and I didn’t want some shiny new replacement. The jacket had history. Faded words scrawled across the front had long since become unreadable—hell, I couldn’t even remember what they once said.

Stripped bare, I looked down at myself and grimaced. If my clothes looked that bad, my body couldn’t be much better. Tugging Liam’s basin over to my side of the room, I dipped my hands in the cool water and began rinsing the dirt away. The temperature sent goosebumps rising across my arms and chest, but it felt good—like I was scrubbing off not just sweat and grime, but the weight of yesterday too.

I sank my hair into the water, working through tangles with my fingers until leaves and tiny twigs floated loose, dropping into the basin one by one. I hadn’t even realized they’d gotten stuck in there. Probably from that mad run through the forest. Once I had rinsed the last of the grit from my skin and scalp, I sat back, considering whether I should just dunk my ruined clothes and wash them too.

I didn’t get the chance to decide. The dorm door creaked open.

My stomach dropped. In a blind panic, I snatched the blanket off my bed and dove under it, cocooning myself in the covers just as Liam walked in. He had two trays balanced in his hands, but he wasn’t alone. Three other students trailed behind him, each carrying their own food.

For a heartbeat, all four of them just stood there. The strangers’ eyes went straight to the basin and then to the messy pile of my discarded clothes. Their faces twisted in some mix of amusement and judgment. Before I could even say anything, one of them grabbed Liam by the arm and tugged him backward. All three of them ushered him out of the room like they were protecting him from… me? Or maybe from the awkwardness of the situation. The door clicked shut behind them, leaving me swearing under my breath.

I scrambled into the first things I could find—an old black tank top and a pair of loose shorts—before calling out, “You can come in now.”

For a second, silence. As if they were debating whether or not to risk it. Finally, the door cracked open, and the four of them filed back in. This time, Liam moved quickly, striding across the room to me while the others hung back like curious onlookers.

His aura brushed against me faintly, a warm flicker of guilt and embarrassment, though his face was carefully composed. He set one of the trays in my lap, eyes darting anywhere but my bare shoulders.

“I—I’m sorry,” he stammered, voice lower than usual. “I didn’t realize you were… um… washing up. I thought I’d grab us breakfast. Got you turkey sausages—the nurse said you don’t eat pork.”

The words tumbled out too fast, like he was trying to cover his tracks.

“Thanks,” I murmured, keeping my voice quiet, almost guarded. My fingers curled around the tray as though it might anchor me in place.

I could feel it—the heaviness of their eyes pressing against me, thick and uncomfortable, like invisible hands brushing over my skin. When I glanced up, none of them looked away. They didn’t even bother to pretend. Their stares lingered too long, too openly, roaming in ways that felt far too invasive, as though they were stripping me bare despite the tank top and shorts I’d thrown on.

Heat rose in my cheeks, though whether it was anger or embarrassment, I wasn’t sure. My mind twisted with questions. What had Liam told them? Had he said how I insulted him, only to stumble through an apology later? Or worse, had he told them about last night—the closeness, the kiss, the way his hand had held onto me like he didn’t want to let go?

The not knowing made my stomach knot painfully. So, I lowered my eyes and busied myself by picking at the food on my tray, forcing down the tension with every bite.