They chose the park.
Not the new one near the library, but the older, almost-forgotten one nestled near the edge of Hillenwood's town border—the one that brushed shoulders with the dense forest no one really talked about. There were no kids playing on the rusted swings. No joggers. No dogs. Just the whispering wind rustling through dying leaves and the creak of aged wooden benches that hadn't been painted in decades.
It was quiet.
Too quiet.
A place perfect for focusing, Julien had said. But Iris suspected he liked how isolated it was.
She didn't.
She kept glancing at her phone like a lifeline. She had texted Olivia and her mom the exact location. She'd even sent a picture of the surroundings—just in case.If something if bad happens...if I go missing... they'll know who I was with.
She didn't care how weird it sounded in her message.
She was alone. With him.
Julien sat beside her on the bench, utterly still. His black hoodie clung to his frame like shadows stitched into fabric. He didn't fidget, didn't adjust, didn't blink nearly enough.
"I'm sure what we're doing is far more important than what's on your phone," he said suddenly, his voice low, each word measured.
Iris jumped slightly, caught off guard. His tone wasn't harsh, but it wasn't casual either. It carried weight, like an unspoken warning.
"Yeah! Uh… uhm, sorry. You're right," she said, letting out an awkward laugh and forcing herself to slide her phone into her pocket. It felt like putting away a weapon. "Project stuff it is."
She flipped open the folder and looked at the assignment sheet again.
The task was simple: Choose a natural biome and create a comprehensive report. Deserts, oceans, tundras, beaches, valleys—anything. Include wildlife, plants, environmental importance. Bonus points for originality.
Problem was, Hillenwood didn't exactly have tropical beaches or snowy mountains. They weren't going to take a trip to a coral reef anytime soon either. Most students would go online, grab info from Google, and pick the flashiest ecosystem they could think of.
But Iris didn't feel like doing what everyone else did.
Her eyes drifted toward the edge of the park, to the wall of trees looming not far beyond. The forest. Dark. Quiet. Endless.
No one ever picked the forest.
Too local. Too weird. Too unexplored.
But maybe that's what made it… interesting.
"Why not the forest—" she started, but her voice faltered when she realized Julien had spoken the exact same words, at the exact same time.
Their eyes met. Her brows lifted in surprise.
His expression didn't change. Still calm. Still blank. Still unreadable.
"...Yes, the forest," she said, a small, uncertain smile forming. "It's kind of mysterious. It could be fun to write about. Although, we don't know much about it. The animal life, the plants, the… anything really."
"You only don't know," he said coolly, "because you've never been in the forest."
She blinked at him. "You've been in the forest?"
Julien's head turned slowly. When his eyes met hers, they seemed deeper than before—like they had opened and darkened at the same time. There was something ancient in them. Watching. Calculating.
"Only for important reasons," he said.
Iris leaned forward slightly. "Like what?"
For the first time, his lips curved—not a smile exactly, but the ghost of one. His smirk was sly, unsettling. "You really want to know about me, don't you?"
She felt her cheeks flush immediately. Damn him.That tone was deliberate. Teasing, but edged with something far too sharp to be playful.
He was too mysterious for his own good. Too cold. Too calm. It made her uncomfortable… but also a little breathless.
And before she could stop herself, the question slipped out.
"Do you… believe in vampires?"
His reaction was instant.
He froze.
His eyes widened just slightly, a flicker of surprise—real emotion—for the first time. It passed quickly, but it was enough to send a chill down her spine.
The silence between them thickened. Even the wind held its breath.
"I believe," he said slowly, voice suddenly distant, "that there are things in this world people don't fully understand."
His gaze returned to the trees, as if speaking to something far away.
"People believe what they want to believe. What makes them feel safe. They're too afraid to look deeper. Too afraid to see."
"Do you believe in vampires because you've heard stories?" he asked, tilting his head slightly. "Or do you believe in vampires because you've seen one?"
Iris swallowed. "I—I don't really believe in all that stuff."
"Then why ask?"
She hesitated. "Just… curious about your opinion, I guess."
He turned to face her again, the wind catching strands of his dark hair. His face held no expression. But his eyes—
They stared. Right through her. Like glass beneath a microscope.
"Sometimes," he said at last, "it's better if people stop being curious altogether. It never brings anything good."
He dropped his eyes to the document in his hand, as if the moment hadn't just become heavy with something unspoken.
Iris stared at him. Her mind spun in slow, uneasy circles. She didn't know if he was threatening her or warning her.
Or both.
She reached forward to grab her copy of the project outline at the same time as him—and their fingers brushed.
She recoiled slightly.
His skin was freezing.
Not cold like someone who'd been holding a drink. Not cold like the autumn wind.
But cold like death. Like marble. Like something that didn't pump blood.
He didn't flinch. Didn't react at all.
But his eyes flicked up and locked onto hers.
Golden and reddish-brown collided.
Something fluttered in her chest.
Not affection. Not quite fear.
Something in between.
She pulled her hand back quickly, heart hammering.
He handed her the paper wordlessly.
And even as she looked down at the words, she couldn't focus on a single line.
The forest. Vampires. The cold of his skin.
The strange, haunted feeling that had been following her since the party. Since her dreams. Since… before.