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For now, though, I remain in my hidden spot, content to watch and wonder, unable to look away from her. My eyes are fixed on her with more than just curiosity. She’s much more than just a pretty face; there’s a story behind those expressive blue eyes, a depth I find myself curious to explore. For a moment, I consider stepping out of my observer’s role to bridge the distance and perhaps learn more about the girl with the camel coat and the beautiful, sad eyes. But instead, I remain where I am, content to watch and wonder from afar.
“Couldn’t help but overhear,” Emily’s voice, dripping with a mix of curiosity and arrogance, catches the American’s attention. She saunters over with her duo of posh minions trailing behind her with their designer luggage and handbags. “You’re Evelyn Winters?”
“Eve Winters,” the pretty American corrects, her naturally full and perfectly shaped lips curving into a polite smile. “Everyone calls me Eve.”
Emily’s eyes flicker with interest, a sly smile playing on her lips. “You’re staying at Whitley House. We’re housemates,” she announces, stepping closer to Eve, her tone suggesting a sense of ownership. “I’m Emily Beaumont. We’re all second-year students but happy to show you the ropes at Hawthornes. Welcome to our little world.”
The two girls flanking Emily move in closer, their expressions a blend of curiosity and assessment. Eve’s eyes dart between them, sensing the unspoken dynamics at play. Despite their outward warmth, there’s an air of exclusivity around them, a barrier that’s both inviting and intimidating. Emily’s hold on Eve is firm yet deceptively warm, a subtle blend of welcome and control.
I watch from my spot in the shadows, intrigued by the scene unfolding before me. The dynamic is fascinating, a blend of social maneuvering and genuine interest.
“We’ll have you fitting right in,” Emily continues, her smile widening. “There’s a lot to take in, but don’t worry. Stick with us, and you’ll be just fine.”
There’s no missing the fleeting expression on Eve’s face – almost an eye roll. It’s a subtle sign that she’s aware of the type of crowd she’s being drawn into, one she might instinctively resist. Yet, there’s an inevitability to it, as if this social dynamic is both a burden and a calling for her. Her expressive blue eyes reveal a mix of reluctance and acceptance, suggesting she’s been through similar situations before and knows how to navigate them.
“Couldn’t help but notice, you’re also from the States,” a tall, muscular bloke approaches the group, his athletic build evident beneath a casual but well-fitted jacket, a sweatshirt hoodie peeking out from underneath. His attention is focused solely on Eve, giving only a brief nod of acknowledgment to Emily and her snobbish companions. He radiates a confident charm, his dark eyes locking onto Eve’s with genuine interest.
“Yeah, I am,” Eve responds, her smile growing more genuine as she meets his gaze. “New York.”
“I’m Zane. Zane Jones,” he introduces himself, extending a hand towards her. I notice he doesn’t mention which state he’s from.
Emily, standing slightly to the side, watches the exchange with a keen interest. Her eyes linger on Zane, a calculated spark of attraction in her gaze.
“Oh, you’re that scholarship athlete,” Emily retorts condescendingly. “Martial arts, isn’t it?”
Zane’s expression doesn’t falter. He meets Emily’s gaze with a leveled look, his hand still extended towards Eve. “Yes, I am,” he replies smoothly, his voice steady, but he doesn’t elaborate further.
Eve shakes his outstretched hand, her touch light but confident. “Nice to meet you, Zane. I’m Eve.”
Sensing the growing connection between Zane and Eve, Emily steps closer, her companions trailing behind her like shadows. “We were just about to help Eve with her luggage,” she says, her tone sweet but laced with an edge of possessiveness. You’re welcome to join us, Zane.”
Zane looks at the luggage, then back at Eve. “Sure, I’d be happy to help,” he agrees, his smile widening. “Anything to make the transition easier.”
“Hey, Em.”
The entire group stops to look at the tall fella with glasses who casually approaches them, addressing Emily. He doesn’t seem to acknowledge the three other females standing with her, andI wonder how this will play out since only a few of us know the short version of Byron Harding’s story.
“Byron,” Emily mutters, looking onwards, her tone barely masking her irritation.
Byron's frown is brief but telling. He quickly tries to hide it, though I can see an equal level of disdain on his face. His demeanor is that of someone who’s used to being sidelined but has learned to wear it well. As I observe him more carefully, I notice Eve’s curious glance in his direction, almost as if she’s secretly checking him out.
Interesting. So, she either has a penchant for Asian blokes or the studious-looking types.
Byron adjusts his glasses, his eyes momentarily meeting Eve’s before flicking them away. He slides his hands into his trouser pockets and stands there, eager to make a little more than small talk.
“How are your mum and dad?” he asks, rocking himself back and forth on his heels.
“They’re good, thanks,” Emily says, turning to her bodyguard to instruct him to leave her bags and go.
Realizing he’s not going to get much more from her, Byron stands up straight and quietly slips away, unnoticed. I observe Eve as she turns thoughtfully to watch him leave, her expression betraying curiosity about the interaction and Emily's dismissive attitude towards him.
“Who was that?” Eve asks curiously.
Emily is unlikely to tolerate Eve’s budding interest in Byron. She’ll see to it that any attraction Eve feels for him is nipped in the bud.
“Byron Harding,” Emily replies curtly. “A nobody.”
“I think he’s my roommate,” Zane suddenly blurts out as he watches Byron stride over to the docks.
