HIDDEN FATES [Mattheo Riddle]

EIGHT

CHAPTER EIGHT
—
A Place at the Table

The days following the party felt like a strange, weighty fog had descended over everything.

Dean barely acknowledged me at breakfast, lunch, or dinner. Our once effortless conversations dwindled to clipped exchanges, each word from him feeling like a carefully measured response, devoid of warmth. The usual playful banter that colored our study sessions was gone, leaving a gaping silence between us, thick and uncomfortable. It was as though an invisible barrier had been erected between us, one I couldn't seem to break through.

I'd asked him once—twice, really—if everything was alright, if there was something on his mind, if he was angry at me. His response was as hollow as the empty halls late at night. He had waved me off with a dismissive hand, his voice quiet, "It was nothing... just drunk talk." But I knew Dean better than that. His eyes betrayed him—clouded with something more. There was something he wasn't telling me.

My heart twisted in discomfort every time we were together, like I was an intruder in a space where I once belonged. The air around us felt thick, suffocating, and it made me feel like I was walking on the edge of something dangerous.

Sarah wasn't much better. She'd always been a bit distant since the whole thing with Mattheo, but now it was like there was a wall between us, tall and impenetrable. Her laughter sounded forced, her eyes never quite meeting mine, and there was an unmistakable chill to her words.

And then there were the whispers. The rumors.

I could hear them, following me like shadows in the hallways. That I was dangerous. That I couldn't control my magic. That I didn't need a wand or even words to cast spells. There was a kernel of truth buried deep in the lies. My magic had been... unpredictable lately, but I wasn't dangerous. At least, I didn't think I was.

Yet, the rumors spread like wildfire, and I had a strong suspicion where they had come from—Sarah. I couldn't bring myself to confront her, though. Something in me just... recoiled at the thought. Maybe it was the exhaustion from everything, maybe I was just too tired to care. But I didn't want to force any conversations with her. Not now.

By Monday, nearly a week after the party, I found myself seeking Mattheo out more and more. His presence, strange as it was, had become an unexpected escape. I'd slip out of study sessions early, desperate for a break from Dean's cold silence or Sarah's wary glances. Mattheo and I would retreat to the Astronomy Tower, a quiet sanctuary where the outside world felt far away. Sometimes, I'd help him with his homework; other times, we'd chat about mundane things or challenge each other to card games.

It was... odd. Unlikely. But it worked.

"Hey, wait up," I called out, catching sight of him heading down the corridor. My legs worked quickly to catch up, the soft shuffle of students around us echoing in the narrow space.

Mattheo slowed, flashing me a lazy, amused smile. "What's up?"

"Can I sit with you guys at lunch today?" My words spilled out quickly, and I could hear the slight tremor in my voice. I hated how anxious I sounded, how desperate for something different. My eyes darted over his face, searching for any hint of rejection.

He frowned slightly, concern etching into his features as he gently guided us out of the busy hallway. "Of course," he said, his voice softening. "Is everything alright?" His gaze locked on mine, reading something in me I hadn't even acknowledged yet.

I nodded too quickly, the motion jerky. "Yeah, sure, sure. Just need a change of setting, you know." The words felt brittle in my mouth, like I was trying too hard to convince both of us.