THE BOY WHO FOUND HER
1894 Words
The rain had stopped by morning.
Westbridge University looked different beneath a pale September sun. The ancient buildings no longer seemed quite as threatening, and the puddles scattered across the stone walkways reflected a sky that was almost painfully blue.
Almost.
Amara Bennett stood outside the administration building with her phone pressed against her palm, staring at the message she'd received the night before.
DON'T TRUST THE BOY WHO FINDS YOU FIRST.
She had read it so many times that the words had begun to lose their meaning.
Still, something about it bothered her.
Not because she believed it.
Because part of her did.
“Amara!”
She looked up.
Tessa was hurrying across the courtyard, one hand holding a takeaway coffee and the other clutching a folder against her chest.
“You look like you haven't slept.”
“I didn't.”
Tessa stopped in front of her.
“Okay. That's concerning.”
Amara slipped her phone into her pocket.
“I'm fine.”
“You said that yesterday too.”
“And I was fine yesterday.”
“No, yesterday you were being followed by a mysterious man in a black coat.”
Amara's expression tightened.
Tessa immediately lowered her voice.
“Sorry.”
For a few seconds, neither of them spoke.
The courtyard was filling quickly now. Students moved between buildings, laughing and talking, completely unaware that Amara felt as though someone had quietly placed a target on her back.
Tessa handed her the coffee.
“Drink.”
“I don't—”
“Drink.”
Amara sighed and took it.
“You're bossy.”
“I prefer caring.”
“You prefer bossy.”
“That too.”
For the first time that morning, Amara smiled.
Then she noticed him.
Adrian.
He stood on the opposite side of the courtyard, surrounded by three other students. He wasn't participating in their conversation. He was simply listening, one hand in his pocket, his expression unreadable.
And somehow, despite the distance between them, Amara knew he was looking at her.
She looked away.
Too late.
A moment later, footsteps approached.
“Morning.”
Adrian's voice.
Tessa looked between them.
“Morning,” Amara replied.
Adrian's eyes briefly moved to the coffee in her hand.
“Didn't sleep?”
Amara frowned.
“How do you know?”
“You have the face of someone who spent the night arguing with her ceiling.”
Tessa snorted.
Amara gave her a look.
Adrian's mouth twitched.
It wasn't quite a smile.
“Very funny.”
“I wasn't trying to be.”
“That makes it worse.”
His eyes rested on her for another second.
“You shouldn't walk around alone.”
Amara's expression changed.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
“I don't remember asking for security advice.”
“It's not advice.”
“Then what is it?”
Adrian hesitated.
“Concern.”
The single word landed differently than she expected.
Tessa suddenly became fascinated by the lid of her coffee.
Amara crossed her arms.
“Why are you concerned?”
Adrian's jaw tightened.
“I just am.”
“That doesn't answer my question.”
“I know.”
He turned as if he intended to leave.
Amara stopped him.
“Adrian.”
He looked back.
“Last night,” she said quietly. “Did you send me a message?”
Something flickered across his face.
“What message?”
Amara studied him.
“You didn't.”
“No.”
She nodded slowly.
“Okay.”
But she didn't believe him.
Not completely.
Adrian noticed.
“You think I'm lying.”
“I think you have a habit of not telling the whole truth.”
His expression hardened.
“You've known me for barely any time at all.”
“Exactly.”
For several seconds, they simply stared at each other.
Then Adrian stepped closer—not enough to invade her space, but enough that his voice didn't carry.
“Whatever you think you know about me, Amara, you don't.”
Her heart skipped.
Not because of the way he looked at her.
Because of the warning in his voice.
He walked away.
Tessa waited until he was several steps away.
“Okay.”
Amara looked at her.
“What?”
“That was weird.”
“Very.”
“You two have known each other for approximately five minutes and already sound like divorced parents arguing over custody.”
Amara laughed despite herself.
Then her phone vibrated.
She froze.
Tessa noticed.
“What?”
Amara pulled it out.
One new message.
No number.
No name.
Just four words.
ASK HIM ABOUT WESTBRIDGE.
Her smile disappeared.
“What is it?” Tessa asked.
Amara didn't answer.
Across the courtyard, Adrian had stopped walking.
He was staring at her.
As if he already knew.
---
The first lecture of the day should have been easy.
It wasn't.
Amara sat near the middle of the lecture hall, notebook open in front of her, but she hadn't written anything in nearly fifteen minutes.
Her mind kept returning to the message.
Ask him about Westbridge.
What was she supposed to ask?
What did Adrian know?
Why did someone want her to stay away from him?
And why did everyone seem to know something except her?
“Psst.”
Amara looked to her side.
Tessa was whispering.
“You've been staring at the same page for ten minutes.”
“I know.”
“Are you actually taking notes?”
“Yes.”
Tessa looked down.
Amara's page contained one sentence.
Westbridge was found in 1887.
Below it, she'd written the same sentence three times.
Tessa raised an eyebrow.
“Very educational.”
“Shut up.”
A quiet laugh came from behind them.
Amara turned.
Noah.
She recognized him from the courtyard.
Adrian's friend.
He leaned back in his chair, looking far too amused.
“She's distracted,” he said.
Amara narrowed her eyes.
“Do I know you?”
“No.”
“Then don't analyze me.”
“Fair.”
Noah smiled.
“I'm Noah.”
“Tessa.”
“Amara.”
“I know.”
Amara frowned.
“How?”
Noah's smile faded slightly.
“You're Adrian's friend.”
“We're not friends.”
“Right.”
“Seriously.”
“Of course.”
There was something about the way he said it that irritated her.
Before she could respond, the lecturer entered.
The conversation ended.
But Noah's words stayed with her.
You're Adrian's friend.
Why had he said that as though it were obvious?
---
After the lecture, Amara found herself alone.
Tessa had another class across campus, and Amara decided to visit the library.
She needed answers.
The Westbridge University library was enormous.
Dark wooden shelves stretched toward high ceilings, and narrow windows allowed thin beams of sunlight to fall across the tables.
Amara walked toward the history section.
If someone wanted her to ask Adrian about Westbridge, perhaps she should first figure out what exactly she was supposed to ask.
She pulled out an old university history book.
The pages smelled like dust.
She flipped through them.
Founders.
Former presidents.
Major events.
Scholarship programs.
Nothing unusual.
Until she reached a section about the university's oldest student society.
The Westbridge Circle.
Amara paused.
The description was strangely vague.
An exclusive academic society established during the university's early years.
That was all.
She turned the page.
The next section had been torn out.
Her pulse quickened.
“Interesting, isn't it?”
Amara nearly dropped the book.
She spun around.
Adrian stood several feet away.
“How do you keep doing that?”
“Doing what?”
“Appearing out of nowhere.”
“Maybe you're just easily startled.”
She closed the book.
“What are you doing here?”
“Studying.”
“In the history section?”
“Yes.”
“You don't look like someone who studies.”
His eyebrows lifted.
“And what exactly do I look like?”
Amara immediately regretted the question.
“Forget it.”
A small smile appeared on his face.
“You were going to say something.”
“No.”
“You were.”
“I wasn't.”
He stepped toward the shelf.
His eyes landed on the book in her hands.
The smile disappeared.
“Where did you find that?”
Amara noticed the change immediately.
“Why?”
“Give it to me.”
“No.”
“Amara.”
“Why?”
He looked toward the library entrance.
Then back at her.
“Because you don't know what you're looking at.”
“That sounds familiar.”
His eyes narrowed.
“You got another message.”
It wasn't a question.
Amara's grip tightened around the book.
“How do you know?”
Adrian didn't answer.
Instead, he looked at the book again.
“You need to put that back.”
“Why?”
“Because some things at Westbridge are better left alone.”
Amara stared at him.
“Who are you?”
Adrian's expression changed.
For the first time, the confidence disappeared.
He looked tired.
Not physically.
Something deeper.
“Someone who knows what happens when you start asking the wrong questions.”
“And what happens?”
He was silent.
Then he said,
“People get hurt.”
A chill ran through her.
“Is that a threat?”
“No.”
“Then what is it?”
“A warning.”
Before she could respond, footsteps echoed between the shelves.
Adrian immediately stepped back.
A librarian appeared at the end of the aisle.
“Everything alright?”
“Yes,” Adrian answered.
Amara looked at him.
His face had returned to its usual calm expression.
Too calm.
The librarian walked away.
Adrian leaned closer—not intimately, but enough to keep his voice low.
“Put the book back.”
Then he walked away.
Amara watched him disappear between the shelves.
She looked down at the book.
She should have put it back.
Instead, she opened it again.
The torn page caught her attention.
There was something beneath it.
A folded piece of paper.
Amara pulled it free.
Her hands trembled slightly as she unfolded it.
There was only one sentence.
HE DOESN'T REMEMBER WHAT HAPPENED.
She stopped breathing.
Then, beneath it, another line slowly came into view.
BUT YOU WILL MAKE HIM REMEMBER.
Amara stared at the words.
She heard footsteps.
This time, they weren't Adrian's.
Someone was approaching from the other side of the shelves.
She quickly folded the paper and slipped it into her notebook.
A shadow appeared across the floor.
Amara looked up.
Nobody was there.
She stepped backward.
Her phone vibrated.
One message.
RUN.
She didn't.
She couldn't.
A second message arrived.
HE IS ALREADY BEHIND YOU.
Amara turned.
Adrian stood at the end of the aisle.
His expression was no longer calm.
It was fear.
Real fear.
“Amara,” he said.
She swallowed.
“What?”
His eyes moved past her.
Someone else was standing somewhere behind the shelves.
Adrian's voice dropped.
“Don't move.”
And for the first time since she'd arrived at Westbridge University, Amara understood something terrifying.
The warnings weren't trying to make her afraid of Adrian.
They were trying to make sure she never discovered why Adrian was afraid of her.
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