WHISPER

CHAPTER 2- FAR AWAY

The sky was dull with overcast light, not quite gray, not quite blue — the kind of color that matched how Avery felt walking into campus. Her jeans were clean now.

Yesterday.

The memory came sharp and uninvited — her legs tangling in someone else’s, the hot spill across her chest, and then his face. Sharp jawline. Deep-set eyes. That scowl that looked like it had been etched into his bones.

Darren.

Avery didn’t know what had annoyed her more: the coffee, or the way he hadn’t apologized. Just a muttered insult, like she had spilled it on him.

She hadn’t even gotten his name until later, when roll call in that shared class made everything click. Darren Wolfe.

But despite her irritation, she caught herself thinking about the curve of his jaw, the cold steel of his eyes, the way his voice sounded when he wasn’t snapping. There was something infuriating about how good-looking he was. As if it gave him the right to be cruel.

She shook her head. No. He’s a jerk.

Still, she knew exactly where he sat now — third row, two seats from the window. And she knew exactly how it felt to fall apart under a stranger’s stare.

Avery stood at the entrance of the cafeteria, tray in hand, trying not to look as unsure as she felt. The crowd, the noise, the sheer amount of people laughing, talking, moving—it was a lot. Her eyes flicked around the room, scanning for a table that looked… empty enough. Safe enough.

There wasn’t one.

She spotted an open chair near the back, close to a wall. It would do—if only it didn’t make her feel like she’d just planted a neon sign over her head: Lonely. New. Different.

As she started toward it, a voice called out, light and teasing.

“Hey! That table’s cursed.”

Avery blinked and turned.

Two girls were watching her with amused grins from a round table by the window. One had a mess of soft, bouncy curls and an expressive face; the other had electric-blue box braids and an air of relaxed confidence.

“You sit there,” said the curly-haired one, “and your GPA drops five points instantly. It’s a fact.”

Avery stared for a second too long before realizing they were genuinely inviting her over.

She hesitated. Then she stepped toward them, her movements careful, guarded. “Good to know,” she said quietly, forcing a small smile.

“C’mon, sit. We won’t bite. Unless you take the last fry,” said the girl with braids, nudging out a chair with her foot.

“I’m Nina,” the curly-haired one said.

“And I’m Talia,” added the one with the braids.

“Avery.”

She hadn’t meant to say it so softly, but it came out like that anyway.

There was a flicker—brief but there—in Nina’s expression. A spark of recognition she quickly tucked away.

But they didn’t say anything about it.

“Nice to meet you,” Nina said like it was the first time. “You’re in Psych 110, right?” Nina asked, popping a fry in her mouth.

“Yeah.” Avery nodded slowly. “I transferred in yesterday.”

Talia grinned. “Same here. Fresh meat. Although I’m already thinking of switching majors because if I hear the word ‘syllabus’ one more time I might snap.”

Avery let out a very small laugh. It felt unsteady, like she wasn’t sure she was allowed.

Avery’s fingers tensed slightly around her fork. She could feel the weight of their glances, measuring her, friendly but not naive. Still, they weren’t giving her that look. Not pity. Not the morbid curiosity she’d grown used to seeing in strangers’ eyes back home.

Talia leaned in like she was about to whisper a scandal. “Did you survive the reading list?”

“Barely,” Avery muttered, and to her surprise, the words came naturally.

Nina laughed. “Professor Charles is the queen of assigning thirty pages you don’t actually need.”

“So,” she said, carefully steering the attention off her, “you guys freshmen too?”

“Yup,” Talia said. “Moved in Sunday. Still learning how to function without my mom’s cooking.”

Avery managed a smile.

“We went to the same high school—St. Anselm’s. Sister school to Brant Academy?”

The name echoed faintly. She frowned.

“That sounds… familiar.”

Talia waved it off. “Probably saw it in a college pamphlet or something. We were always paired with bigger schools for joint programs.”

Avery nodded slowly, the itch in her mind settling without clicking into place.

“I think my old school did an exchange thing once,” she murmured. “Not sure.”

But neither Nina nor Talia picked at it. If they knew more, they didn’t show it.

“I like this school so far,” Nina said, changing the subject. “Feels alive.”

Talia snorted. “Alive and chaotic. But yeah. The community’s nice.”

Avery nodded but didn’t answer. That word—community—sat awkwardly in her stomach.

“You live on campus?” Nina asked gently.

“No I stay off campus but quite close to the school.”

Talia made an approving face. “Nice”

“ We stay on campus at Hawthorne building , close to the food vending machines”

“Didn’t realize vending machines had rankings,” Avery said dryly, and both girls burst into laughter.

“You’ll learn,” Nina said. “Rule one: avoid the one next to the art building. It eats dollars.”

“And spits your chips halfway out just to mock you,” Talia added.

Avery’s lips twitched in a reluctant smile.

“I have two older brothers,” Nina offered casually, fiddling with her straw. “Both annoying. But one’s at med school, so now only half my life is chaos.”

Talia grinned. “I’ve got a younger sister who thinks she’s gonna be the next Ariana Grande. She’s six. So far she knows three dance moves and refuses to stop singing ‘7 rings.’”

Avery let out a short, real laugh. “Ambitious.”

Something in her chest lightened just a little.

Nina looked at her, warm but unreadable. “What about you?”

“No siblings,” Avery said automatically. The air cooled around her, just a little.

Talia seemed to catch the shift and didn’t press.

“Only child life,” she said. “Bet the fridge is always yours.”

Avery nodded. It wasn’t a lie.

By the time their plates were half-empty, the conversation had shifted. It wasn’t anything too deep — not yet — but there was comfort in their rhythm. Talia was sarcastic and unapologetically loud, with a laugh that could turn heads. Nina was the quieter one, but with this sly kind of humor that snuck up on you.

“I swear that psych lecturer is always testing us like we’re in med school,” Nina said. “Did you see the reading list?”

“I thought it was a joke,” Talia muttered, stabbing her salad. “Like, a prank. A social experiment. ‘Let’s see how fast they burn out.’”

Avery laughed softly.

She wasn’t sure how long this would last, this tentative peace, but for now, it felt manageable.

Later that day, she found herself back in the lecture hall — the one she shared with him.

Darren.

He was already there. Hoodie pulled up, elbows on the desk, face half-hidden as he scribbled in a notebook. There was a kind of tension in his posture, like his whole body was coiled in on itself.

He hadn’t seen her. Or maybe he had, and just didn’t care.

Avery took a seat three rows behind him, telling herself it wasn’t on purpose. But her eyes drifted anyway — to the back of his head, to the way his hand moved across the page.

Who are you really?

He’d said her name once — coldly, curtly. But it had left a mark, like a ripple in water.

She hated that she noticed the small things. The scar along his wrist. The way he clenched his jaw when the professor mentioned group work. The faint shadow under his eyes, like he hadn’t slept.

Disgust. That’s what she should feel.

But curiosity had started curling its way into her brain like smoke, slow and invasive.

She forced her attention back to the lecture, but the echo of his voice — that one word, “Watch it” — played in her head more times than it should’ve. Why couldn’t she get it out of her head??

As the sun dipped lower, Avery sat on the campus lawn with Talia and Nina. It had become a thing, already — meeting after class to just sit, to decompress.

Talia tossed a packet of Skittles into Avery’s lap. “You survived day two. You get candy.”

Avery caught them with a laugh. “What’s day three’s reward?”

“Depends,” Nina said. “Did you cry today?”

“No.”

“Then we’re getting ice cream.”

Avery let the warmth soak in. The chatter. The teasing. The lack of pressure.

Talia was scrolling through a playlist, then paused. “Do you wanna come to open mic night? It’s tomorrow. You don’t have to sing or anything. Just hang out.”

Avery considered. “I might.” She could feel someone’s eyes boring a hole in her head and she looked around. Maybe she’s just being paranoid she thought. But she couldn’t shake off the feeling she was being watched.

“You should,” Nina said. “It’s chaos. Like good chaos.”

Avery nodded. “Okay. I will.”

It wasn’t much. Just a promise for tomorrow. But it was more than she’d had the day before.

And as she lay in bed that night, eyes drifting closed, she thought again of Darren cole— and of Nina and Talia’s laughter.

One image filled her head with unease. The other with something that looked suspiciously like hope.

POV: Darren

Darren stood near the edge of the student center, half-shielded by the brick overhang. From here, he could see through the wide windows of the cafeteria. He wasn’t hiding, not really — just not interested in being seen.

He spotted her right away.

Avery sat on the lawn. Her posture was slightly tenseshe still wasn’t used to the two girls who were talking to her Nina and Talia.

They were smiling. Laughing. One of them nudged Avery with an elbow, and Avery actually smiled back.

That surprised him more than it should have.

He hadn’t meant to look for her today. After what happened yesterday, he’d promised himself he’d stay clear. He didn’t need to make things worse. But when he passed by the garden, he caught sight of her and… stopped.

He told himself he just wanted to make sure she was okay. That she hadn’t snapped or fallen apart after their awkward collision and the coffee spill. That she hadn’t remembered anything. That she wasn’t spiraling.

But he kept watching.

Avery was listening now, eyes moving between the two girls. She didn’t say much. Just small nods, a couple of short replies. But she was trying.

And maybe that’s what kept him rooted to the spot.

He didn’t know Nina or Talia well, but they seemed decent. Normal. They weren’t trying too hard. They weren’t talking about her like a charity case. If they knew — if they’d heard the rumors — they were doing a good job pretending otherwise.

Avery looked… tired. Like someone who hadn’t slept properly in a while. Her hair was tied up messily. Her clothes looked like a rushed second option — probably after the coffee yesterday. Her eyes flicked to her surroundings every now and then.

Yeah. She was trying, but she wasn’t at ease.

Still, she was here. Sitting. Engaging. That was more than yesterday.

Darren exhaled quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. He wasn’t sure what he was doing anymore. Watching her like this wasn’t healthy. It wasn’t helping her. It sure as hell wasn’t helping him.

But he couldn’t look away.

There were flashes of the old Avery in her — the way she tapped her fingers against the table absentmindedly, how she tilted her head when listening. It was strange how those small details stuck in his memory.

The conversation at the table shifted again. Nina leaned in, saying something that made Talia laugh out loud. Avery just smiled this time, faint and guarded.

She wasn’t fully in it yet. Still cautious. Still outside the bubble.

But she was trying.

Darren didn’t move for a long while. He watched until Avery stood up, probably headed to her next class, the two girls following close behind.

Then he turned and walked the other way.

No one noticed him. That was the point.

He wasn’t going to approach her. Not yet. Maybe not ever. Whatever was building between her and those girls, let it happen.