A Story That Won't End

y

skin. The road to Da Vinci College was buzzing like always-students draggin

irst day of a new semester always felt like

ime... I f

rom me-something I couldn't name. Even the sharp bite o

ady?" Nate, my driver, b

him a s

ing out like they owned the place. Some in leather jackets, some lean

my head down and get to cl

me one, over and over. A cold river. A small hand grip

ounding and cold sweat running down my neck.

last night, it clung to me lik

er jitters. Or maybe... a pa

ture major. I only signed up for the class as an elective because people said t

for my elbow rest. Most of the time, I used books as a shield anyw

s seat

oked

y. Warm, tanned skin. And his eyes... silver-gray, sharp but not threateni

, and he

ed up, he glanced at me. "You still like drawi

y chest. My pulse went crazy, like s

My voi

small smile.

guess is right. Do you always th

id casually. "Name

yl

ike a tiny electric shock crawling up my arm. My skin tingled, an

d wasn't in class. River's words

out something I us

d, graying hair, soft-spoken but comman

,' going into Frank Lloyd Wright, talking abo

ughts drifted again, back to the river, bac

s Mo

ed my h

w does Wright balance the relationship between in

pty. "Uh... maybe.

Every e

id politely. "Though it cou

forward. "I

tured for him

l stone and concrete, creating terraces that echoed the rock formations by the river. It was his w

d. "An excellen

Callaha

Mr. Callahan

a maple tree, I found myself blurting, "You wer

e structures. Shapes. They

to escape people. Architecture feels like... a w

ding, almost too much. It made me uneas

er voice c

yl

urn

rotective, leather-jacket-

, head to toe. "What exactly

calm as ever. "We

Architecture student suddenly cozying

sly, Rhett? He lit

are about your intentions. I

ch. "I'm not here

rackling between them like s

. I don't even know who I really am yet, so let me figur

didn't say anything. His eyes

my bag over my shoulder and walked

hallways, my hands trembling from an

ooked at me. From the strange f

about the flowers. All of it felt... too close

ow him. I was Ayla. That

of his gaze, I heared a voi

say n

y reflection in the gla

.. I'd lived another