Blazar kept her eyes fixed stubbornly ahead as she stood in the food line, her jaw clenched tight, trying desperately to ignore the whispers rippling through the dining hall.
The familiar weight of dozens of curious gazes pressed against her back, making her shoulders tense involuntarily.
She didn't need to turn around to know he was coming—the way the air seemed to thicken with anticipation, the way the murmurs died down to anxious silence, the way the students beside her suddenly found the floor absolutely fascinating.
Her fingers tightened around the metal tray in her hands, knuckles white with the effort of maintaining her composure.
He's not walking toward me, she told herself, the mantra feeling increasingly hollow with each passing second. He's just passing by. He has to be.
But then his shadow stretched long and ominous across the floor in front of her, and when she finally risked a glance over her shoulder, her heart nearly stopped.
