Saturday sunlight had a way of sneaking into Moonstone Academy like it owned the place.
It poured through the tall hallway windows in warm, lazy sheets, catching dust motes midair and turning them into drifting specks of gold. The usual weekday tension, the clipped footsteps, the stiff uniforms, the quiet pressure to be someone important, all of it was gone. In its place was something softer. Laughter echoing down corridors. Lockers left half open. Students leaning against walls in loose clothes, unbothered, alive.
Adam noticed it immediately. He always did.
He stood in the middle of the wide marble hallway with a clipboard tucked under one arm, white sweatpants hanging low and loose on his hips, the fabric swaying when he shifted his weight. The black compression shirt clung to him in a way he was still getting used to. It traced his shoulders, his chest, the subtle definition along his arms that had not been there a few weeks ago. Every time he caught his reflection in a glass panel or polished trophy case, it startled him a little, like his body was quietly becoming something else without asking permission.
Beside him, Aiva leaned back against the wall, arms folded loosely, a satisfied smile playing on her lips.
Her outfit looked effortless, almost careless. A loose crop-top blouse that dipped and draped just enough to suggest without showing, grey sweatpants riding comfortably on her hips, the fabric hugging her in all the right places when she shifted. Sunlight caught in her hair, dark and glossy, framing a face that always looked like it was seconds away from either laughing or saying something dangerous. People passed them, some slowing, some pretending not to stare, others very obviously staring.
Adam checked the clipboard again, then finally let himself smile.
Another bold checkmark. Another club secured.
"That's it," he said, exhaling like he had been holding his breath all morning. "Drama club's officially in."
Aiva pushed off the wall and leaned over to glance at the clipboard, her shoulder brushing his arm. He felt it. Way too clearly.
"Told you," she said lightly. "They just needed to feel like they mattered."
Adam snorted. "They made us sit through a twenty-minute monologue about lighting aesthetics."
"And?" she asked, eyes flicking up to him.
"And," he admitted, "you told them their lighting could make the castle look haunted without being cliché, and suddenly they were sold."
Aiva shrugged, almost sheepish. "People like it when you listen."
She didn't say it like it was a tactic. She said it like it was obvious.
Adam looked down the hall, replaying the last day in his head. Club after club. Art. Chess. Film. Even the notoriously stubborn fencing club, who had initially laughed in his face, had eventually agreed after Aiva suggested a midnight demonstration during the first-year festivities, framed as historical combat. She never forced anyone. Never cornered them. She asked questions, listened to the answers, then stitched solutions together like it had always been the plan.
It wasn't loud charisma like Bryce's.
It was something quieter. More dangerous.
"I don't get how you do that," Adam said honestly.
Aiva glanced at him sideways. "Do what?"
"Make people say yes without realizing they've already decided."
She smiled, slow and knowing. "I just help them say yes to themselves."
Adam shook his head, laughing under his breath. "That shouldn't make sense, but somehow it does."
They started down the hallway together, footsteps echoing softly against stone. Adam felt good. Genuinely good. Tired, sure, but the kind of tired that came with accomplishment. They had started yesterday evening and somehow kept going through today, momentum carrying them forward like a current.
For once, he wasn't thinking about wolves, instincts, hunger, or control.
At least not yet.
The cafeteria was brighter on weekends, sunlight spilling across long tables instead of fluorescent lights. It smelled like fresh bread, citrus cleaner, and coffee strong enough to wake the dead. They grabbed food and sat near the windows, trays clinking softly as they settled in.
Adam ate slower than he used to. He was painfully aware of every bite, every chew. The hunger sat coiled in his gut, quiet but persistent, like something watching him from the inside.
Aiva noticed immediately.
She always did.
"You're pacing yourself," she said, eyes flicking to his tray. "Didn't peg you as the light-eating type."
Adam nearly choked on his drink.
"I eat," he said quickly, then winced at how defensive it sounded. "Just, you know, not trying to fall asleep after lunch."
She smirked. "Uh-huh. Sure."
He narrowed his eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"
She leaned forward slightly, elbows on the table, voice dropping just enough to feel conspiratorial. "It means," she said, "that you've been looking… different lately."
His heart skipped.
"Different..." Aiva's gaze flicked over him again, slow, deliberate. "More defined. Like you've put on some muscles really quickly."
Adam laughed, a little too fast. "Guess my workout plan's finally paying off. And wait a second, we already had this conversation before."
"Mmm," she hummed, unconvinced, lips twitching. "If you say so."
There it was. That look. Like she knew something he didn't think she knew. Or maybe she knew he was hiding something and just hadn't decided how hard to poke yet.
Adam changed the subject before his nerves betrayed him.
"So," he said, grabbing the clipboard again, "we're down to three clubs."
Aiva brightened instantly. "Hit me."
"Gardening club," he read, then paused and glanced at her. "Debate club. Music club."
Aiva clutched her chest dramatically. "Gardening club?" she said. "Oh no. How will we ever convince them?"
Adam raised an eyebrow. "You say that like it's not a real club."
She grinned. "It is. I'm just… also the only member."
He laughed outright this time, the sound bouncing off cafeteria walls. "You're ridiculous."
"Efficient," she corrected. "And I'm more than happy to volunteer the gardening club's full support."
He checked the box with exaggerated seriousness. "Motion carried unanimously."
"See?" she said. "Leadership."
Adam leaned back in his chair, glancing at the remaining two names. His excitement bubbled up again, cutting through the low ache in his stomach.
"Then it's just debate and music," he said. "And we're done."
Aiva stood, grabbing her tray. "Music first?"
"Already called ahead," Adam said, standing with her. "They said they'd be around."
She smiled at him, genuine and warm. "Look at you, being responsible."
"Don't get used to it."
They headed out together, side by side, stepping back into the sunlit halls. Adam felt lighter somehow, like the weight he'd been carrying had loosened its grip, at least for now.
As they walked, clipboard tucked under his arm, Aiva was close enough that he could feel her presence without looking, Adam allowed himself to believe something dangerous.
That maybe, just maybe, things could stay like this a little longer.
And with that thought lingering between them, they pushed open the cafeteria doors and stepped back into the day.