Page 56 of Ghosted

She doesn’t.

Of course she fucking doesn’t.

Alice cuts toward the chapel.

Toward the trees.

Toward me.

I wait until she passes the first bend in the path, until the library lights fall behind her and the chapel blocks most of the view from the courtyard. The rain thickens around us, softening the world into dark shapes and wet stone.

Then I step out.

She hears me before she sees me.

Her shoulders tense, but she keeps walking. One step. Two. Three. Slower now. Listening.

Good girl.

I keep my pace even. Not fast. Not loud. Boots steady on the wet path, rain sliding down the mask, hands loose at my sides. I let her hear me. Let her understand I’m there. Let the space between us fill with every awful thing she can imagine before she finally turns her head.

The second she sees the mask, she stops.

For one clean heartbeat, neither of us moves.

The cemetery fence runs beside us. Trees drip overhead. Rain hits dead leaves and dark pavement. Campus is right there, glowing through the branches, but it suddenly feels miles away.

Her hand tightens around her camera bag.

I say nothing.

She knows anyway.

I see it hit her. Not panic. Not confusion. Anger first, sharp and immediate, then something underneath it that makes my pulse kick hard.

Recognition.

She knows it’s me.

And she’s still standing there.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” she says, voice low and furious.

My smile stays hidden as she turns and walks faster.

I follow.

Not close enough to grab her. Not far enough to let her pretend she isn’t being followed. I keep the distance steady while she cuts along the chapel path, past the iron fence and the old stone markers.

She looks back once.

Then again.

The second time, I see her mouth form another curse I can’t hear.

Then she runs.

Fuck.