The Boy in the Hoodie

Aleah's POV

The hallway spilled into noise as Ivy and I stepped out of class, the buzz of lunch chatter bouncing off the lockers. I was mid-sentence, something about how the test was rigged, when a sharp shoulder crashed into mine.

I stumbled backward — my bag slipping from my shoulder, my balance yanked from under me — and before I could catch myself, I hit the floor. Hard. The cold tile met my palms with a slap.

No hand reached for mine.

No wide-eyed apology.

Just footsteps retreating.

Sage didn't even flinch. He kept walking, tossing a lazy glance over his shoulder like he had brushed past furniture, not a person.

Heat rushed to my face, part pain, part rage.

Ivy bent down to help me, her brows pinched.

"You okay?" she asked softly.

I nodded, jaw tight, biting back the wave inside me.

"I'm fine," I lied, scraping my dignity off the floor with my books.

Then I felt it.

That eerie pull again — like someone was watching.

I glanced up through the shifting crowd.

And there he was.

Half-shadowed in the frame of a doorway, hoodie draped over him like a cloak of indifference. He was still, hands in his pockets, eyes locked on me. Not in that gawking, high school way — but something quieter. Sharper.

Our eyes held for a breath.

Maybe two.

Then he turned and walked away, disappearing into the blur of bodies.

I didn't even realize I was holding my breath until Ivy touched my arm.

"Aleah?"

I blinked, forcing my gaze back to her.

"He was watching," I whispered, almost to myself.

"Who?"

"I… I don't know."

But something in my chest stirred — uneasy and familiar.

Like something had shifted.

And I wasn't sure if I should follow…

Or run.