AMELIA 'DECLAN' SILVER
He didn't stop!
If someone asked me to describe the Lunaris dining hall in one sentence, I’d say:
A feeding ground where testosterone, scrambled eggs, and chaos fight for dominance.
I hadn’t even stepped fully inside before the noise hit me like a slap.
Shouting. Laughter. Chairs scraping. Someone banging on a table rhythmically like it was a battle drum. The air smelled like maple syrup, toast, sausages… and competitiveness.
Boys moved in packs here… laughing too loud, talking too big, walking like they owned gravity. I clutched my tray like it was a shield and tried to blend with the crowd.
Zayn walked beside me, casual and silent like someone used to this madness. Meanwhile, I felt like a rabbit who snuck into a wolf convention by wearing fur and hoping for
