REFLECTIONS ON THEM

The cafeteria buzzed with chatter, forks clinking against plates, and the faint hum of students swapping gossip after classes. The smell of overcooked pasta and fried potatoes mingled in the air, clinging to the tiled walls and fluorescent lights that hummed faintly overhead.

Evelyn sat at the far end of the room, her tray untouched. She wasn’t hungry. Not really. Not with the storm of unease that had been building in her chest ever since she found herself caught between Elias and Lucien. Every sound around her felt distant, muffled, as though she were sitting underwater.

Elias sat two tables away, his posture stiff, his tray abandoned in favor of watching the room with quiet vigilance. His gaze flickered toward her every so often, never lingering long enough for others to notice, but always sharp, always searching—as if checking she was still there.

Lucien, on the other hand, leaned casually against the wall near the exit. His dark eyes didn’t glance or flicker. They fixed. They pierced. His attention felt like a hand at her throat, not choking her, but holding her still. It wasn’t just curiosity—it was dissection. He studied her as though peeling back every layer she’d built to protect herself.

Evelyn shifted in her chair, her fingers tightening around her fork until the metal dug into her skin. She stabbed at her food, pretending to eat, though each bite turned to ash before she could swallow. The tension in the air was thick enough for anyone paying attention to notice. And someone was.

Ava.

Sitting directly across from Evelyn, Ava rested her chin on her palm, her green eyes alive with mischief—or maybe something sharper. She had that same smile she always wore, the one that looked friendly at first glance but never quite reached her eyes.

“You know,” Ava murmured, her voice light but edged, “if you keep glaring at your mashed potatoes like that, they might just run away.”

Evelyn blinked, dragged back to reality. She let out a hollow laugh. “Sorry, I’m just… distracted.”

“By Elias?” Ava asked sweetly. Then, after the briefest pause, her gaze flicked—so fast Evelyn might have missed it—toward Lucien. “Or by him?”

The question made Evelyn’s heart stumble. She forced herself to look unfazed, though the heat crawling up her neck betrayed her. “Neither,” she said too quickly.

Ava’s smile deepened, though it was softer now, amused. “You’re a terrible liar.”

Evelyn turned away, ashamed of how easily Ava had read her. She didn’t know how to explain the pull she felt toward both boys—Elias with his quiet steadiness that grounded her, Lucien with his dangerous allure that drew her in against her better judgment. It didn’t make sense. And yet… it terrified her how much sense it did make, deep down, in the part of her that craved both safety and danger.

Before Ava could press further, Elias rose from his table. He moved with deliberate calm, every step measured, but his shoulders were tense and his eyes hard as they locked onto Lucien.

Lucien noticed. Of course he did. His lips curved, slow and mocking, as he pushed away from the wall. The shift in his posture was like a predator stretching, answering a challenge that hadn’t been spoken aloud.

The cafeteria seemed to shrink, the hum of conversation faltering into uneasy silence. Students leaned closer, eyes darting between the two boys as if sensing that something more than rivalry was unfolding in front of them.

“Evelyn.” Elias’s voice cut through the room when he reached her table. Calm. Controlled. But beneath it lay a coil of tension so sharp it made her pulse quicken. “I need to talk to you.”

Lucien’s smile spread, lazy and dangerous. “Funny. So do I.”

The words weren’t casual. They were possessive. A claim.

Evelyn’s throat tightened. “I—uh—”

“Now isn’t the place for this,” Elias said firmly, his voice edged with steel as he glanced at Lucien.

Lucien tilted his head, his eyes glinting with challenge. “Why not? Unless you’re afraid of what she’ll hear.”

The cafeteria froze. Not a clatter, not a whisper. Just silence, heavy and expectant.

Evelyn’s heart thundered in her ears. She glanced at Ava, hoping for support, but her friend only leaned back in her chair, her expression unreadable. Her eyes, though, gleamed with a strange intensity—as though she wanted this confrontation. As though she’d been waiting for it.

Evelyn pushed to her feet, her chair scraping loudly against the tile. “We can… we can talk somewhere else. Outside.”

The three of them moved, the crowd parting like water. Whispers swirled in their wake, but no one dared speak too loudly. The weight of eyes followed them until the cafeteria doors swung shut behind them.

The evening air hit Evelyn’s skin like a blessing, cool and clean compared to the heavy heat inside. The courtyard stretched out before them, bathed in the fading glow of sunset. Shadows stretched long across the stone paths, deepening with every passing moment.

Elias turned first, squaring himself to Lucien. His jaw was tight, his hands clenched. “Stay away from her.”

Lucien laughed softly, though the sound was sharp, like glass breaking. “You don’t get to decide that. She’s free to choose.” His gaze slid to Evelyn, burning with something both tender and dangerous. “Aren’t you?”

The question weighed on her like a stone. Evelyn wanted to speak, to deny the storm coiling inside her, but her lips refused to form words.

Elias stepped forward, his arm half-raised in a protective gesture. “She doesn’t need your kind of influence.”

For the first time, Lucien’s smirk wavered. Just for a second. Something older—hurt, anger, maybe grief—slipped through his mask. “You think you can protect her from everything? From me?” His voice dropped low, almost a whisper. And though it was directed at Elias, Evelyn felt it cut straight through her. “You don’t know half of what’s coming.”

Her breath caught. “What do you mean?” she asked, her voice trembling.

Lucien’s gaze softened, conflicted. For a heartbeat, it looked as if he might tell her everything. Then he shook his head and stepped back into the deepening dusk. “You’ll see soon enough.”

Elias’s stance tightened, as though ready to lunge, but Lucien was already gone, his figure swallowed by the courtyard’s shadows.

Silence pressed in. The fading light seemed colder now, heavier. Evelyn could barely breathe.

“Evelyn.” Elias turned to her, his face taut with worry. “You need to stay away from him. Please.”

She opened her mouth, torn between agreeing and admitting the truth clawing at her chest—but froze.

At the far edge of the courtyard, beneath the archway, Ava stood. Half-hidden by shadow. Watching.

Her faint smile met Evelyn’s gaze. It should have been reassuring, but it wasn’t. It was cold. Satisfied. Almost like she’d gotten exactly what she wanted.

A shiver ran down Evelyn’s spine, and for the first time, she wondered if Ava wasn’t just watching—if she was pulling strings.