I shake my head. “Just trying to get my bearings.”
The lie rolls off my tongue easily.
I haven’t told anyone about my history with a certain student here—not yet.
Most of the crowd is first-years like us, but I spot a few second- and third-years weaving through the rows. “Where are the fourth-years?” I murmur, tapping my fingers against my thigh, still scanning.
A student manning the potions table glances up. “Some of the fourth-years got deployed to help down south. That hurricane last week wrecked a few towns.”
I blink, surprised—I hadn’t realized I’d spoken aloud.
He shrugs. “It happens sometimes. Once you’re an officer.”
He’s not even here.
The disappointment hits like a slow wave—thick and heavy with false hope. Because some small, humiliating part of me had been braced for impact the moment I stepped through the gates—like he might be waiting for me. Like fate would intervene and be kinder than it’s ever been before.
* * *
That night,my roommates and I curl up around the fireplacein our dorm, trading stories from home. The things or people we’ve left behind. What we’re most excited to learn.
I don’t tell them about my dad, or how I ended up at Whittaker. That pain is still too fresh. Too sharp around the edges.
I do tell them about my mom—how she saw me call the lake this summer, and the rush to get a late application in.
Turns out that Elliot left behind her girlfriend in California—a non-Magick. They decided against trying to stay together due to the school’s strict rules on outside communication.
Rozsen left behind three boyfriends, each one with varying promises of love and devotion ’til the end of time.
Amelia and I stay quiet, not giving anything away.
I’m starting to doubt if I even have something to tell.
* * *
The last timeI saw Noa, we were in his living room. He was waiting for his parents and sister to get home before starting the long drive back to Whittaker. Summer was ending, the emotions between us tangled and threadbare.
He’d already changed into his uniform. I sat tucked into his side on the couch, just breathing him in. Wishing for more time. Wishing the distance wouldn’t feel so impossible.
When his parents’ car finally pulled up, we both stilled. One last moment.
He kissed me—long, lingering. A kiss full of promise and passion we wouldn’t get to act on. Our time was up.
When he pulled away, I could still feel him. A slow burn on my lips. An ache settling deep in my chest. And when I walked him to the car, I had to stop myself from begging him to stay just one more day.
We said goodbye, whispering promises that only hope or fate could keep.
I wonder if he’s thought of me the way I think of him.
If he’s missed me.
If my dreams of him have slipped into his somehow—the ones where I wake up warm, my skin tingling, the ghost of his touch still lingering.
Like he never really left.
CHAPTER 4
To awaken an affinity is to invite the element to speak through you. Listen well. But be warned—it does not always whisper.
