LATE REALISATIONS, CURVED DISTRACTIONS

The ceiling fan above Cal's bed rotated with a dry hum, its spinning blades catching the last light from the setting sun as it leaked through the dusty blinds. He laid there, arms folded behind his head, eyes unmoving, gaze fixed on nothing and everything all at once. His room was quiet, save for the occasional groan of pipes and the distant hum of traffic from Halcroft's main roads. But inside Cal's head, the silence was anything but calm.

That moment replayed over and over, the sudden lurch of his body, the way the bat flew over to his corner, like gravity had reversed itself for just him. The look on Becky's face when the bullies stumbled back in shock. And more than anything, the way his own breath caught when it was over. It wasn't adrenaline. It wasn't just luck. Something had happened.

But how?

His fingers twitched at the memory. "That doesn't just happen."

He sat up, elbows on his knees, staring at the cracked screen of his old phone as it blinked dimly. He thumbed through the recent call list and hovered over Nate's contact. His best friend probably hadn't heard about what went down yet

Cal tapped the button.

Ringing.

No answer.

He tried again. Still nothing.

"Come on, Nate…" he muttered, tossing the phone onto the bed beside him. He stood up, pushing his fingers through his messy hair, pacing across the creaky floorboards of his room. Outside the window, dusk gave way to the deep blue of evening. Streetlights flickered on one by one. The entire city was sinking into that quiet lull between night and whatever madness tomorrow would bring.

And then came the softest creak. He stopped. The window behind him slid open. He turned slowly, heart thudding in his chest.

A woman stepped in like she owned the night. Long legs clad in skintight black leather, hips that swayed with unnatural confidence, and a body that didn't walk so much as glide. Her coat, if you could call the thin, open thing a coat, hung loosely over a cleavage so pronounced it nearly bounced with each step. Her heels clicked once against the wood floor before she closed the window behind her without even looking.

Cal's jaw slackened. "What. The. Hell."

"You really should lock your windows, Cal Everene," she said, voice like silk dipped in wine; low, rich, and impossible not to listen to. Her lips curved into a smile that was somewhere between amused and predatory.

Cal blinked, looked her up and down, then blinked again. "Who the hell are you?" he asked, but his voice cracked halfway through.

She chuckled.

"Oh, we're starting with the rude questions. I was expecting something more like—'whoa, are you a supermodel who just fell into my room?'" Her eyes wandered past him.

Then she stopped. A single sheet of paper sat on his desk, poorly shaded with pencil lines and bold curves.

A drawing. Of Becky. A fantasy version, thighs unrealistically thick, her skirt hiked just short of scandalous.

Selene's smile widened.

"Oh… my." She walked over to it, tapped it with one long finger. "You drew this?"

Cal's soul nearly left his body. "I—I—That's just—it's not—!"

She tilted her head. "That's a very imaginative perspective. Do you usually draw your classmates in—how do I put this—full breeding position?"

He grabbed the paper and crumpled it in one panicked sweep, face burning hot. "Please shut up."

Her laughter was low and dangerous. "Relax. You're seventeen. I'd be more concerned if you weren't drooling over someone's curves like a half-starved dog."

"Anyways." 

She stepped closer. "I'm here because of you."

A chill rippled down his back. "What does that mean?"

She circled him once, eyes scanning. "You did something today. Something that sent a very… subtle ripple through a few sensors my people monitor."

"Sensors?" he asked, stepping away from her.

Selene nodded. "Arbiters don't always awaken in flashy, explosive ways. But when someone accesses a power, even unconsciously, it sends out a tiny pulse. The Ledger has feelers for that. Lucky me, your little incident was close to where I was stationed tonight."

Cal squinted. "So you're with the government?"

"Independent," she corrected smoothly. "The Ledger. We're somewhere between paperwork and shadow puppets."

"You're an Arbiter?" he asked, doubt all over his voice.

She smiled. "Would it help if I blew a hole through your wall or seduced you into a coma to prove it?"

Cal blinked. "Wait… you can do that?"

She leaned in, voice warm against his ear. "Wouldn't you like to know."

His face lit up with the kind of red that only shame, hormones, and pure confusion could bring.

Selene straightened and continued, "We don't know what your ability is yet. That's rare. Most awakenings leave clearer signs. Yours…" she glanced toward his hand, "was subtle. Stealthy. Unrefined."

"Some bat flew towards me," Cal said. "That's all. I didn't even touch it."

"Exactly." Her eyes flickered with thought. "But that happened. Without contact. Without warning. That's enough for us to keep watching. And for me to say hi."

"You came all the way here to say hi?"

She grinned. "And to see if you were worth the trip. So far, you're very entertaining."

Cal folded his arms, trying to fight the twitch at his temple. "Do I get a say in any of this?"

"Eventually," Selene said with a wink. "But for now? No. Welcome to the world of Arbiters, Cal Everene. You just earned your entry pass."

She walked back to the window and opened it. The night breeze curled her hair, giving her that slow-motion movie effect you only saw in perfume commercials.

"I'll be around," she added. "Don't do anything stupid. Or do. It's more fun that way."

And just like that, she was gone.

⸻

Cal didn't sleep that night.

He lay awake, phone in one hand, laptop open beside him, eyes scanning every page he could find on Arbiters. Most of it was filtered, generic government-approved info—power manifestations, recorded history, notable figures, ranking systems. Nothing practical. Nothing real.

He finally shot Nate a text around 2 AM.

"Dude. I think I awakened. I'm not joking. Please call me tmrw."

Nate responded an hour later.

"Swear to God if this is some dream about Becky's ass I'm blocking you."

⸻

Morning arrived with its usual pain—stiff neck, half-dead eyes, and the ache of everything changing too fast. But Cal made it to school, somehow. The halls buzzed with mild gossip, but no one really knew what had happened behind the old gym building the day before. Becky hadn't told anyone.

She was at her locker when he saw her. Tight jeans. Crop top. Long hair tied up. The kind of look that made Cal's brain short-circuit. He walked past her, fully prepared to avoid eye contact.

"Hey," she said.

He stopped then turned.

She was facing him now, arms crossed under her chest, pushing her boobs up just enough to command attention without trying. Her expression wasn't annoyed or cold.

It was… conflicted.

"Thanks," she said. "For yesterday. I don't know what you did but that saved me there."

Cal scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah, uh… they're jerks. Just did what anyone would do."

"No," she said, eyes on him. "Most people wouldn't have done anything."

Silence.

Her gaze softened for just a second. Then she looked away, closed her locker, and left.

Cal stood there, stunned. Not because she thanked him, but because for the first time in forever…She saw him.