NOAH
I was sprawled on my bed in old sweats, staring at the familiar cracks in the ceiling like they held some kind of escape route. My mind kept looping back to the student council room earlier that day—Seraphina watching me sort those stupid folders with the cool detachment of someone training a pet. The way she'd said "good progress" like she was handing out mercy instead of punishment.
The apartment felt too quiet tonight. Mom being home should've been comforting. It wasn't.
Then her voice drifted down the short hallway, bright and unsuspecting.
"Noah! Someone from school is here to see you!"
My stomach plummeted like a stone dropped down a well.
I bolted upright, heart slamming against my ribs hard enough to bruise. I didn't have friends at Westfield Academy—definitely not the kind who showed up unannounced at our door in this neighborhood.
I shoved my feet into untied sneakers and stepped out of my room, dread pooling in my gut.
I stopped dead in the hallway.
Seraphina Voss was sitting on our worn couch like she belonged there.
Seraphina.
In our living room.
She looked impossibly out of place—like a glossy magazine cutout dropped into the wrong photograph. Black dress clinging to every curve, cropped leather jacket draped over one arm, legs crossed with elegant poise. A small brown paper shopping bag rested neatly in her lap. She was smiling at my mom—soft, warm, disarmingly polite—like she was the kindest soul alive.
Mom turned from the kitchen doorway, her tired face lighting up with genuine delight. "There he is! Look who stopped by, honey."
Seraphina lifted her gaze to me. That smile never faltered. "Hi, Noah."
My brain short-circuited. Words refused to form.
Seraphina Voss. On our sagging couch. Chatting with my mother as if they were old friends.
I blinked hard. Once. Twice. She didn't vanish.
Mom gestured warmly. "She brought you something. Isn't that thoughtful of her?"
Seraphina lifted the bag slightly, voice honey-sweet. "I forgot to give you this at school today. I thought I'd drop it off personally."
Mom's eyes sparkled. "That's so kind. You didn't have to do that."
I forced my legs to move until I stood in front of her, throat tight.
Seraphina rose with fluid grace—the dress shifting like liquid silk over her body—and pressed the bag into my hands. Our fingers brushed. Her skin was warm and impossibly soft. Mine felt clammy and cold.
I looked inside.
A brand-new iPhone—latest model, box still sealed. A complete Westfield uniform—blazer, trousers, shirt, tie—all in my exact size. And a fresh case of prescription contacts.
My throat closed completely.
"Thank you," I managed. The words came out flat and hollow.
Mom nudged me gently with her elbow. "Noah, say it like you mean it, sweetheart."
I swallowed the bile rising in my throat. "Thanks… Seraphina."
She turned to my mom with that same radiant smile. "I should go—I have plans tonight. Thank you so much for letting me in."
Mom waved her hand dismissively, already beaming. "Nonsense! Stay for dinner. It's nothing fancy—just chicken and rice with roasted vegetables—but there's plenty for everyone."
My eyes snapped to Seraphina's in silent panic. Don't you dare.
She tilted her head sweetly, the picture of reluctant politeness. "I wouldn't want to impose…"
"You're not imposing at all," Mom insisted, already heading back toward the kitchen. "Noah, tell her to stay."
I stared at Seraphina, silently screaming at her with my eyes.
She gave a soft, innocent laugh. "If it's really no trouble…"
Mom disappeared around the corner, humming happily. "No trouble whatsoever! Sit, sit—I'll set another plate."
The moment we were alone, I stepped closer, voice low and trembling with barely contained fury.
"What the hell are you doing here?" I hissed.
Seraphina turned slowly, facing the small crooked mirror on the hallway wall. With deliberate grace, she slid the leather jacket off her shoulders, letting it hang open.
The black dress clung to her like it had been painted on—sleeveless, neckline dipping just low enough to be intentional, fabric catching the dim lamplight and turning glossy. Sharp collarbones, the soft curve of her waist, long legs crossed elegantly at the ankle. Everything was on calculated display.
I saw it all reflected in the mirror.
Her eyes met mine in the glass.
Then she turned to face me directly.
"Like I told your mother," she said softly, voice dripping with false innocence, "I simply forgot to give you your little present at school. So I dropped by."
"You're insane."
She stepped closer. Close enough that her expensive perfume—sharp, floral, intoxicating—wrapped around me like invisible chains. I'd never been this near a girl who smelled like money and danger. Riley had never come close.
"I'm generous," she corrected, eyes gleaming with dark amusement. "You should be grateful, Noah."
Mom's cheerful voice floated from the kitchen. "Dinner's ready!"
Seraphina's smile brightened—warm, charming, utterly victorious—and she walked past me toward the tiny dining table like she owned the place.
Dinner was Mom's usual after a long hospital shift: simple chicken and rice with roasted vegetables and a small green salad. Seraphina thanked her for every single bite. She asked thoughtful questions about Mom's nursing shifts, laughed softly at the funny story about the patient who kept stealing Jell-O cups. Mom actually lit up, talking more freely than she had in months.
I sat across from Seraphina in heavy silence, forcing down bites that tasted like cardboard. Every time our eyes met over the table, I looked away first, cheeks burning with humiliation. My old glasses suddenly felt too big, too cheap. My hands wouldn't stop trembling beneath the table.
Afterward, when Seraphina offered to help clear the dishes, Mom laughed warmly. "Don't be silly, honey. You're our guest tonight."
I stood up quickly. "I'll walk her out."
Mom smiled, pleased. "That's sweet of you. Be careful out there—it's not the safest neighborhood after dark."
Seraphina picked up her jacket and purse with elegant poise.
The moment the apartment door clicked shut behind us, the cool night air hit my face, carrying distant car horns and the faint scent of someone's charcoal grill.
"Stop this," I hissed, voice shaking. "I agreed to your probation terms. I didn't agree to you invading my home. To dragging my mom into whatever twisted game you're playing."
Seraphina looked at me—really looked, her gaze slow and assessing.
Then she held out the leather jacket toward me.
"Help me put this on."
It wasn't a request.
My hands trembled as I took the butter-soft leather. I'd never been this close to a girl like this before. I stepped behind her, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from her skin. Carefully—almost gently, despite every instinct screaming at me—I slid the sleeves up her arms. When I settled the collar onto her shoulders, my knuckles accidentally grazed the side of her neck.
A jolt of electricity shot through me, unwanted and humiliating.
She turned slowly.
Looked up at me.
I was breathing too hard. Heart hammering so loudly I was sure she could hear it. Furious. Terrified. Conflicted in ways I didn't want to name.
Seraphina smiled—slow, satisfied, and dangerously triumphant.
"Goodnight, Noah."
She descended the concrete stairs, heels clicking sharply against the worn steps, slid gracefully into her sleek black Mercedes, and drove away without another glance.
I stood frozen on the landing until the taillights disappeared into the night.
My heart refused to slow down.
Inside, Mom was humming softly as she finished the dishes.
"She seems lovely," she called out cheerfully. "Very polite. And so pretty, too."
I didn't answer.
I couldn't.