My little companion

01

Cheyenne

I sighed in relief as I walked off campus, pulling on my sunglasses and letting my hair fall out of its braid. The day had been long-three lectures back to back, plus a group project that went absolutely nowhere. My scalp ached from how tight the braid had been, so I ran my fingers through my hair, fluffing it out around my shoulders. It felt good to be free of the classroom, even if just for a little while. The late afternoon sun warmed my face as I adjusted my messenger bag and headed over to a bench near the sidewalk.

I sat down, stretching my legs out in front of me and leaning back, letting my back crack a little with a satisfying pop. The weight of the day started to melt away as I sank into the bench, my shoulders relaxing. I closed my eyes for a moment, just enjoying the quiet hum of campus life starting to settle down. Most students were still in class, and the foot traffic had slowed to a peaceful trickle.

Owen was supposed to pick me up today. I'd gotten out earlier than usual, which meant I had about ten or fifteen minutes to kill. I pulled out my phone and scrolled mindlessly through social media, occasionally liking a meme or skipping over someone's drama post. Typical stuff.

Then I felt the bench shift slightly.

Someone had sat down next to me. I glanced to my left out of curiosity-and froze for a second. A guy. Maybe around my age, maybe a little older. He had dark hair, tousled like he didn't care about appearances, and eyes that were staring at me just a little too hard. Not in a flirtatious way, not even in a curious way-just intense. Focused.

It gave me the creeps.

I turned to face him more directly and slipped off my sunglasses. "Why are you looking at me like that?" I asked, voice flat.

The guy blinked, as if snapping out of a trance, then smiled. Grinned, really. Like he'd just heard the punchline of some private joke. The corners of his mouth lifted wide and I swear, for a split second, he looked like he might try to hug me. He actually leaned forward like he was going to-what the hell?

I shot up before he could even try. My instincts were screaming at me, and I wasn't about to ignore them. I took a step away from the bench, keeping my eyes on him the whole time. He didn't follow immediately, but his smile faltered and he suddenly looked very... focused. Like something important just clicked into place in his brain.

He stood up slowly, took a step toward me. I didn't back away-I didn't want to show fear-but I subtly shifted my weight, ready to move if I had to.

"Hey, can I talk to you?" he asked, reaching out and grabbing my arm.

His hand was warm. Not just normal warm-weirdly warm. Like a heating pad, or fresh-baked bread pulled from the oven. It sent a strange jolt through me and my stomach turned. That was enough. I yanked my arm back with a sharp motion.

Just then, a loud honk snapped through the air. I looked up in time to see Owen's familiar blue Honda idling by the curb, his arm waving out the driver's side window. My heart practically leapt in relief. Without a second thought, I grabbed my bag and dashed toward the car, flinging the strap through the open back window before sliding into the front seat.

"Go," I said, glancing behind me.

Owen didn't need to be told twice. He pulled away from the curb with a grin and a wave to no one in particular.