Breaking the silence

CHAPTER 4

There's something undeniably nice about evening walks. You know, the sun's going down, the air's cooler, it's peaceful. Plus, it gives me an excuse to stay semi-fit, because God knows I'm not one of those people who actually enjoys working out. I'll take a leisurely walk over a gym session any day.

So, there I was, strolling around, enjoying the last bits of sunlight and trying to clear my head. I wasn't thinking about much—just the usual stuff: how much I missed Jackson, what kind of homework I was about to procrastinate on, and how much I really needed to figure out this Zayne situation. You know, typical teenage drama.

And then, because the universe has a twisted sense of humor, I heard it. Yelling. Shouting. Some loud, chaotic nonsense happening just a few streets away.

Now, any sane person would've turned around and walked away, right? They'd think, Oh, it's probably a bunch of drunk idiots or some sketchy shit going down, better mind my business.

But not me. Nope. I'm Sam fucking Davis, and apparently, I've got the survival instincts of a horror movie character. So, like the genius I am, I headed toward the noise. Because, of course, I needed to see what was going on.

It didn't take long to find the source of the commotion. There was a small group of guys hanging around the corner of a building, smoking and shouting like they'd just walked out of a frat party. Except none of them looked like they belonged in college; they were definitely high school age, maybe a bit older. And they had that vibe. You know the one. The "I'm a total asshole and I'll fight you for no reason" vibe.

I stood there for a second, trying to decide if I should be concerned or just laugh at how ridiculously loud they were. My gut was telling me to get the hell out of there, but my brain was like, Nah, let's just watch for a minute. What could go wrong?

And then, of course, things got worse.

One of the guys noticed me. I could feel it—one of those "oh shit" moments where you realize you've made a horrible mistake by standing there like an idiot. The guy was wearing a bike helmet, which, okay, weird choice for someone just hanging out, but I wasn't about to question it. He turned his head in my direction, and I swear to God, I could feel his eyes burning into me from under that helmet.

At that moment, I thought: Great. This is how I die. Beaten to death by a group of drunk assholes because I was too curious for my own good.

The guy didn't move at first. He just stood there, glaring at me like he was silently telling me to run while I still had a chance. His buddies were too busy laughing and shouting to notice, but this guy? He had me locked in his sights, and I was pretty sure my heart had just forgotten how to beat.

And then something clicked. Something about the way he was looking at me—those eyes. I couldn't shake the feeling that I knew him. I squinted, trying to see past the helmet and the shadows, and that's when it hit me.

Zayne?

No fucking way. There was no way it was him. Right?

But those eyes... Zayne had this thing with his eyes. They were sharp, intense, like they could cut through all the bullshit and see right into your soul. I'd spent enough time staring into them to know that they weren't exactly ordinary. And this guy, standing there with a bike helmet on and glaring at me like he wanted me to disappear? He had those eyes.

For a split second, I was convinced it was him. I mean, how could it not be? The guy who constantly acts like he doesn't give a shit about anything? The guy who's always lurking in the shadows, watching more than talking? Of course he'd be hanging out with a bunch of sketchy dudes on a street corner.

But then, I second-guessed myself. Maybe I was just being paranoid. Maybe I was so wrapped up in this whole "Zayne mystery" that I was starting to see him everywhere. Besides, what were the chances that Zayne, of all people, would be out here with a group of assholes like this?

Nah, it can't be him, I told myself, even though a part of me wasn't totally convinced. Just some other guy with similar eyes.

Either way, I wasn't about to stick around and find out. I gave the guy a quick nod—you know, that awkward "I see you, don't kill me" nod—and turned on my heel, making a beeline for home. My pace picked up, my heart pounding in my chest as I tried to shake off the weirdness of the whole situation.

I made it home without any of them following me (thank God), but the whole time, I couldn't get that guy's eyes out of my head. I kept replaying the moment, trying to convince myself that it wasn't Zayne, but deep down, I knew.

I couldn't mistake those eyes.

When I finally made it to my room, I collapsed on my bed and stared at the ceiling. What the fuck just happened?

Was Zayne really out there, hanging with those guys? And if it was him, what the hell was he doing?

My mind kept spinning with questions I didn't have answers to, and the worst part? I couldn't ask him. I couldn't just walk up to Zayne in class and be like, "Hey, were you hanging out with a bunch of douchebags last night while wearing a bike helmet?"

Yeah, that'd go over well.

So, I did what any normal person would do. I buried my face in a pillow and groaned. Because of course, the one guy I couldn't figure out had to be even more complicated than I'd thought.