Chapter Two: Familiar Strangers
948 Words
Liana told herself the feeling would fade.
It didn’t.
By the time she stepped into her second class of the day, her chest still felt tight, as though something unseen had wrapped itself around her heart and refused to let go. She chose a seat near the back, close to the window, hoping the view of the ocean beyond the school grounds would steady her thoughts.
It didn’t.
Her mind drifted back to the hallway. To gray eyes she couldn’t forget. To the way the world had seemed to stop when they met.
You’re overthinking, she reminded herself. It was just a look.
Yet deep inside, she knew it wasn’t.
The teacher began speaking, her voice calm and steady, but Liana caught only fragments. Her pen hovered uselessly above her notebook, blank pages staring back at her like an accusation. She pressed her lips together and forced herself to write her name at the top.
Liana Moore.
Seeing it there made everything feel more real.
The bell rang again, signaling the end of class. Chairs scraped against the floor as students rose, filling the room with chatter. Liana waited until most of them had left before standing, hoping to avoid the crowded hallway.
She stepped outside—and nearly collided with him.
“Oh—” she gasped, instinctively stepping back.
He caught her elbow gently before she could lose her balance.
“Sorry,” he said quickly, his voice low and warm. “I wasn’t looking.”
Her breath hitched.
Up close, he was even more unsettling. Taller than she had expected. His gray eyes searched her face with the same intensity she remembered from earlier, but now there was uncertainty there too—like he was trying to place her.
“It’s fine,” she replied softly, pulling her arm back, though the spot where his fingers had touched her felt strangely warm.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
“I’m Noah,” he said finally, breaking the silence. “Noah Blackwood.”
The sound of his name sent a ripple through her chest.
“I’m… Liana,” she answered. “Liana Moore.”
The moment her name left her lips, Noah froze.
Something flashed across his face—shock, confusion, something dangerously close to pain. His jaw tightened as though he were holding back words he didn’t understand.
“Moore,” he repeated quietly.
“Do we… know each other?” Liana asked before she could stop herself.
The question hung heavily between them.
Noah hesitated. “I don’t think so,” he said slowly. “But it feels like we should.”
Her heart skipped painfully.
“Yeah,” she admitted. “It does.”
Students brushed past them, laughing, talking, living in a world that suddenly felt far away. Liana became painfully aware of how close they were standing. She could smell his cologne—something subtle and clean—and it made her dizzy.
“I’ve lived here my whole life,” Noah added, as if trying to make sense of the feeling. “You’re new, right?”
She nodded. “We just moved.”
Something about the way he said moved made his brows draw together, but he didn’t ask further.
“Welcome to Havenridge,” he said gently.
Before she could reply, a voice cut sharply through the moment.
“Noah.”
They both turned.
A girl stood a few steps away, arms crossed, her expression carefully neutral. She was beautiful in an effortless, practiced way—perfect hair, confident posture, eyes sharp with curiosity.
“This must be the new girl,” she said, her gaze flicking over Liana in a way that made her feel exposed.
“Maya,” Noah said. “This is Liana.”
Maya smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too,” Liana replied politely, though something in Maya’s tone made her uneasy.
“We’re heading to class,” Maya said, placing a hand lightly on Noah’s arm. “You don’t want to be late.”
Noah hesitated, glancing back at Liana. “I’ll see you around,” he said.
“Yeah,” she replied. “See you.”
As they walked away together, Liana felt an unexpected pang in her chest. She watched them disappear into the crowd, unable to explain the sense of loss that washed over her.
You just met him, she scolded herself. This is ridiculous.
But her heart didn’t listen.
Across the hallway, Maya leaned closer to Noah. “You were staring,” she said quietly.
He frowned. “I wasn’t.”
“You were,” she insisted. “And you never stare at anyone.”
Noah didn’t answer. His thoughts were still on Liana—on the way her eyes had widened when he said his name, on the way she looked like she was holding herself together by sheer will.
That night, Liana lay awake in her new bedroom, staring at the ceiling. The sound of the ocean drifted in through her open window, steady and relentless.
Her wrist brushed against something hard beneath her sleeve.
She pulled the fabric back slowly.
A faint scar stared back at her—one she could never remember getting.
Her chest tightened.
For the first time in years, a memory stirred. Not a clear image—just a sensation. Cold water. A hand gripping hers. A voice calling her name.
Noah jolted awake in his own room across town at the same moment, his heart pounding.
He sat up, breath uneven.
“Liana,” he whispered into the darkness.
The name felt right on his tongue.
And terrifying.
- Writer
