Page 64 of Lured By Shadows

17

Asoft hum, almost musical, slipped into my dreams, threading through the hazy remnants of thoughts and images clinging to whatever I’d been dreaming about. It felt natural there, not startling at all. The sound wrapped around me gently, not pushing, only drawing me closer bit by bit until a voice joined it. Sweet and familiar.

“But I came to life when I first kissed you,” it sang, pulling me toward wakefulness without fully dragging me out of sleep. The words lingered warmly at the edge of my mind, too intimate to feel like some random song drifting through. “The best me has his arms around you…”

I knew the song. Or at least, I felt as though I should. It tugged at something soft inside my chest, but in that foggy space between sleeping and waking, my brain couldn’t quite grab hold of it.

“You make me better than I was before…”

“Thank God I’m yours.”

I shifted beneath the covers, finally cracking one eye open as my phone buzzed somewhere under me, muffled beneath sheets and pillows. A groan slipped out while I twisted around searching for it. Once I found it, I blinked blearily at the screen until the brightness dimmed enough for my eyes to stop protesting. Still half-asleep, I answered and lifted it to my ear.

“’Ello,” I croaked, my voice rough and wrecked. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Hello?”

“You’re still in bed, then?” a voice quipped on the other end. Feminine. Recognizable. It yanked me the rest of the way awake. “Come on, you promised you’d meet us at the park.”

I bolted upright, nearly dropping my phone as the last traces of the dream dissolved.

“Shit,” I muttered, rubbing my face. “Sienna, right?” A pause confirmed it. “Yesterday was… kinda a lot. I totally forgot.”

There was a brief silence before Oliver’s voice burst through somewhere behind her, cheerful and loud, asking about ten questions at once. I could picture him perfectly without even seeing him. Constant motion. I was convinced Oliver would physically combust if forced to sit still longer than ten minutes.

Sienna let out a dramatic sigh.

“Whereabouts are you living?”

“Uh…” I glanced around my room as though the walls might magically help. “It’s, like… the third house from the school if you turn right?”

Another pause. Longer this time.

“You mean to say you don’t know your own address?” she asked flatly.

In my defense, I barely knew my own emotional state right now either.

I swallowed. “No?”

Oliver jumped in, instantly defensive. “Come on, she’s only just moved in! How’s she meant to know it already?”

“Oh my God, what are you, five?” Sienna snapped at me.

Then the call ended.

I stared at my phone for a second before tossing it aside and stretching out across the bed. The movement pulled a long sigh from me. I didn’t feel energized exactly, just lighter somehow. As though my body had finally loosened after being wound too tight for too long. The sort of sleep that actually quieted things instead of simply knocking you unconscious for a few hours.

I rolled onto my side, letting pieces of yesterday drift back through my mind. Culver’s touch. His family. The unsettling warmth beneath all their polished composure. Then the realization that my ma worked for them and that Culver had known about me before we met.

Everything had piled together too quickly, one thing crashing into the next until there’d barely been space left to process any of it.

Eventually, I dragged myself out of bed, padding across the floor with tangled hair and a head still thick with sleep. That’s when I noticed the neatly stacked shopping bags waiting near my door.

Glossy paper untouched. Tissue folded perfectly.

My ma had texted me while I slept, something vague about Culver having them delivered, as though buying someone an entirely new wardrobe required no more thought than sending flowers. Rich people genuinely treated money like Monopoly cash.

I shoved the thought aside and focused on getting dressed instead, pulling one of the outfits from its bag. Casual, but cute in exactly the right way. I adjusted the fit and smoothed the fabric, loving my own sense of style more by the second.

For one embarrassing moment, it almost felt as though he was standing there watching me.