Saturday morning rolled in softly, draping Moonstone Academy in a hushed golden hue. The sun, barely peeking through drifting clouds, cast long shadows over the courtyard as Adam stepped out of the dormitory dressed in a mix of casual flair and quiet self-doubt.
He wore baggy cargo pants that swayed slightly with each step, a crisp white branded T-shirt tucked just enough to show off the subtle silver chain that rested against his collarbone, and a watch that felt a little too shiny for someone who usually avoided attention.
It was his best effort at blending in without sticking out, a balancing act he wasn't sure he could pull off.
His boots clicked softly against the stone path as he approached the main gate. The entrance stood tall, flanked by iron bars and an equally stoic guard with a scanner device in one hand. Adam fished his student ID out of his wallet and handed it over.
The scanner emitted a high-pitched beep followed by a green flash. The guard barely looked up. "You're good to go."
Adam nodded, murmured a thanks, and stepped out beyond the gates. As he did, a second student approached behind him, a nervous-looking boy with glasses and twitchy hands. He passed over his card, only for the scanner to flash red.
"Denied," the guard said flatly.
"Wait, what? I put in the request last night. It said pending!" the boy argued, a mild panic seeping into his voice.
"Then it was denied this morning. If you've got a problem, take it up with admin." The guard crossed his arms, unmoved.
The boy let out a defeated breath and walked off, shoulders slumped.
Adam couldn't help but chuckle under his breath. The kid's bad luck was just another reminder of how meticulous the academy was. Leaving campus on weekends wasn't a simple stroll out the gate, it was a full-on process.
You logged into the smart school portal using your student ID, filled out forms, listed your departure and return times, and waited. For seniors like Adam, parental approval wasn't required anymore, but the system still pinged his dad automatically.
The school didn't miss a beat. Behavior records, attendance, everything fed into the algorithm that decided whether you were granted permission.
As he continued walking, it finally hit him.
He didn't have a ride.
Adam stopped, stared down the road ahead, then pulled out his phone. The location pin for the party blinked steadily, thirty minutes away by foot, near the Manchuri River, deep past the edge of the forest reserve. A cabin party hosted by a couple of third-years. A flex party, part exclusivity, part social power move.
Word had it that the organizers purposely excluded certain people, the ones they didn't like, just to stir drama. Adam didn't care much about all that. He was only going because Aiva had asked.
She'd invited him the night before, more like a friend-date. Just company. She didn't want to go alone, especially with Bryce not attending. That morning, Bryce had looked…off. Moody. Almost hollow. Adam had wanted to ask, but Bryce left the dorms early before the words could form.
Still, Adam had agreed. Because it was Aiva. Because he thought she was kind. Someone who felt like a fragile flower in a stormy field, the sort you instinctively wanted to protect. Like a sister.
And now, he was walking through the open countryside, the school behind him and the long stretch of winding gravel ahead.
The trees swayed rhythmically, their green leaves fluttering in the morning breeze. Birds chirped lazily overhead, and the occasional car buzzed by from the main road nearby. The world felt bigger out here, wider. A quiet kind of freedom he didn't experience often.
Then, a soft growl of tires against dirt.
A car slowed beside him, a black off-road SUV, dust kicking up from its wheels. The window rolled down.
"You do realize town's in the other direction, right?" came a familiar voice, deep and amused.
Adam turned, and there sat Hakeem Morris in the driver's seat, one arm resting on the wheel, the other slung lazily over the door frame. He wore a cobalt blue tee that hugged his arms, khakis, and a pair of sturdy outdoor boots. A silver chain glinted at his neck, catching the sun as he smirked.
Adam laughed. "I'm not heading to town. Party in the woods. Manchuri River cabins."
"Huh." Hakeem's brow lifted. "Didn't think you were the party type."
"Neither did I," Adam admitted. "But… someone invited me. Just tagging along."
"Lemme guess, Aiva?"
Adam blinked. "Yeah. How'd you—"
"Lucky guess," Hakeem said, shrugging. "She seems like the type to drag quiet guys into loud places."
There was a pause, a shared look of mutual understanding.
"Where are you headed?" Adam asked.
"Dad's plantation. Bit past this road. I go almost every weekend. Good to learn the business early, y'know?"
Adam nodded, genuinely impressed. "That's cool."
Hakeem reached over and popped the passenger door open. "Hop in. I'll take you part of the way."
Adam didn't hesitate. He slipped into the seat, grateful to get off his feet.
"Thanks, man."
"No problem. Just know I won't get too close," Hakeem said as he pulled back onto the road. "If I get spotted near that cabin, people will start talking. And I'll have to do something about it."
Adam blinked. "You mean… report it?"
"Technically, yeah. It's against school policy. Unapproved off-campus gathering? That's grounds for suspension, expulsion, if anything serious goes down."
"Yikes. You really can't come then, huh?"
"Nope," Hakeem said with a small grin. "Gotta set the example. President and all."
The SUV hummed along the road as they drove past open fields and shaded trails. The deeper they went, the more the wilderness thickened, trees closing in, casting long slanted shadows across the gravel.
"But hey," Hakeem added, glancing at Adam. "Play this smart, yeah? Keep your head low. Don't drink anything sketchy. If something happens and you get caught up in it, you'll regret it."
"Got it," Adam said, eyes narrowing thoughtfully.
"You're a good guy, Adam. But for some reason you always seem to be two steps from trouble, nigga."
The car rolled to a slow stop a good distance from the cabins. The sound of faint music, bassy and distant, pulsed somewhere deeper in the woods.
"This is your stop."
Adam got out, the door closing with a soft thud. The SUV turned back, and Hakeem gave a casual two-finger salute before disappearing around the bend.
Adam stood still for a moment. The wind rustled his shirt. His cargo pants whispered as he shifted weight from foot to foot.
He could hear music now. And laughter. Cheers, voices, a crowd already deep in the mood.
He exhaled slowly, adjusting the chain at his neck.
Was he overdressed? Underdressed? Would anyone even notice?
It didn't matter.
This wasn't about him.
He started walking toward the cabin, guided by the rhythmic thump of bass and the scattered glow of lanterns strung between trees.
Aiva was already there, right?
Because somewhere deep inside, despite the nerves, the uncertainty, and the fear of not fitting in, he just wanted to make her smile.
The moment Adam stepped through the wooden threshold of the cabin, he felt like he'd wandered into the wrong universe. A heavy wave of music hit him first, upbeat, beachy, the kind you'd hear blasting from a cheap radio at some sun-drenched boardwalk.
Then came the colors. Everywhere. Bright floral shirts, surfboards leaning against the walls, straw hats, coconut drinks. The scent of fruit punch, sunscreen, and subtle sweat saturated the air. His steps slowed.
The cabin was packed, drink stations flanked both sides, the mini-bar glimmering under pink LED lights. A flat-screen TV had been wheeled into a corner, around which a bunch of boys hollered and mashed controllers. The Tiki-themed decor was complete with hanging paper lanterns, pineapple cut-outs, bamboo furniture, and a few inflatable palm trees tossed into the mix.
Adam, in his white tee, silver chain, and baggy black cargo trousers, stood out like a funeral crasher at a luau.
He tugged at the hem of his shirt subconsciously.
'Aiva definitely forgot to mention the theme,' he thought bitterly. Or maybe she thought he'd know. Either way, he felt like a mannequin in the wrong window display.
Before he could even begin to regroup, he spotted the punch table near the entrance and made a beeline for it. As he reached out for the ladle, a girl next to him turned at the same moment. She was mid-sip.
"Hey," Adam said, trying to keep his voice cool, "This got alcohol in it?"
The girl, Bridget, from Class C if he remembered right, arched a brow. "Uh… yeah. Definitely."
"Cool."
He filled a cup to the brim, hesitated for just a second, then downed it in one go. The sting hit the back of his throat, his eyes watered slightly.
"Damn," he muttered.
"Rough day?" Bridget asked, half-smiling.
He didn't answer, just offered a small chuckle and waved vaguely toward the noise. Then he slipped past her and stepped out into the backyard.
The shift was instant. Warm air hit his skin, and the bass thumped louder here.
Lights, strings of them in different colors, dangled overhead like glowing vines. People swarmed the space in twos and threes, drinks in hand, limbs loose with rhythm. Laughter buzzed from every corner.
Couples danced, some swaying, others outright grinding. The beat had hips moving everywhere. It was like a music video with no script.
Still out of place. Still awkward.
Adam scanned the crowd for familiar faces. Nothing. Everyone moved too fast, swirling and blurring. He could pick out Brandon somewhere in the distance, maybe, but no sign of Aiva. So he decided to try the riverbank. The cool edge of the party. Maybe she was there.
As he began weaving his way through the crowd, a voice called out to him, sharp and laced with sass.
"Damn, where you think you goin' dressed like that?"
He froze. Turned.
A short girl stood there, black like him, with skin the color of warm mahogany and curls coiled up into two fluffy buns. She had on a bright red sarong tied around her waist, a neon green bikini top, and oversized sunglasses perched up on her forehead. She was petite, maybe five-foot-four, but the confidence rolling off her made her feel ten feet tall.
"Lookin' like you came from someone's funeral," she teased, grinning.
Adam couldn't help it, he laughed.
"I didn't get the memo," he said, relaxing a little. "My invite was clearly incomplete." 'Have to match the vibe'
She stepped closer, giving him a look-over. "Mmm. It's cool. At least you got the chain. That's saving you."
"You think so?"
"Yeah. Adds, like, ten respect points. And the cargos? Classic. Real old-school uncle vibes."
He chuckled, scratching his neck. "Aight. I see how it is."
"Name's Sasha," she said, offering her fist for a dap.
"Adam."
She bumped fists with him and then nudged his arm with her elbow. "You new?"
"Somethin' like that."
"You look tense as hell, though. This yo' first party here?"
Adam smirked, slipping slightly into his comfort zone. "Yeah. Tryna blend in, but clearly failing."
"Nah, you good. You just need a drink in your hand and maybe someone fly to talk to." She winked.
"You volunteering?"
"Maybe," she said, drawing out the word. "Ain't every day I see another Black kid at one of these joints. Had to check if you was lost."
He nodded. "Yeah, I feel that."
They talked a little longer. Sasha was quick, charming, and full of little digs that kept Adam on his toes. But even as she leaned in and toyed with her sunglasses, he couldn't shake the gnawing tightness in his chest.
Anxiety was still clinging to him.
Then, another voice.
"Yo. Sasha."
Adam turned to see a guy approaching, tall, third-year energy, dressed in a floral shirt unbuttoned to show abs that were clearly deliberate. His expression was tight, jaw clenched. Eyes sharp. And drunk.
Adam recognized him. He was part of Morris's council.
The guy stepped between them.
"Who's this?"
Adam raised a brow but stayed calm. "Just talkin'. Relax, bro."
The guy didn't. "You know this a closed party, right? Not everyone gets invited."
Adam didn't flinch, but he felt his chest tighten. The words were direct. Not aggressive, but challenging.
Before he could respond, Sasha stepped in.
"He's my cousin," she said, flipping her curls. "From back home. Just catchin' up."
Adam glanced at her, surprised.
The guy looked between them, his brow furrowed. Something didn't add up in his expression. But after a beat, he scoffed.
"Alright. Whatever. Just sayin', people gonna ask questions."
Sasha rolled her eyes. "Then let 'em ask."
He mumbled something under his breath and walked off, bumping Adam's shoulder slightly as he passed.
Adam exhaled.
"Yo, appreciate that," he muttered to Sasha.
She waved it off. "No biggie. I wasn't about to let you get pressed for just existing."
He laughed. "Cousin, huh?"
She smirked. "You cute enough to pass."
He laughed again and gave her a two-finger salute. "Ima go try n' find someone. But we should talk again."
"Bet. Don't get jumped before then."
'Don't worry about, he wouldn't last a minute in a fight with me.' He thought as he walked away, easing back into the crowd. The music seemed to blur again. Just as he was about to step down the path toward the river, he collided with someone hard.
Liquid splashed. Onto his shirt.
"Yo, what the—" Adam began.
The guy turned.
It was Harris.
Adam stared.
Harris looked back, and immediately shrank.
"My bad," Harris muttered. "Didn't see you there."
Adam blinked. What the hell?
He took a step forward. "Hey. Can we talk? About—"
Harris shook his head, eyes darting past Adam. "Not now, man."
Adam followed his gaze, turning his head slowly.
Nothing out of the ordinary. Just a few kids hanging by the lights.
Except—
Luna.
Standing alone, drink in hand. Watching. Then, just as their eyes almost met, she turned and walked away without a word.
Adam turned back. Harris was gone.
"What the hell is going on?" he whispered.
He looked down at his stained tee. His fingers touched the wet fabric, now turning pink from the punch.
He sighed. Then kept walking.
The path to the river was calmer. Softer lights, less movement. The music dulled as he moved further out.
He reached the bank, where a few kids were playing with water guns or lounging on towels.
No Aiva.
He sat on a nearby rock, letting his arms drape across his knees.
'What a weird-ass night.'
He just started to breathe again when he felt a tap on his back.
He turned.
And lost all words.
Aiva stood there, an absolute vision.
Her hair, dark and styled in long box braids, cascaded down her shoulders in effortless layers. Her hazel eyes sparkled under the lights like melted amber.
She had on a richly colored Hawaiian bikini with a red-and-gold floral print that clung to her curves like a secret. A silk robe hung loose over her shoulders, fluttering slightly in the breeze.
"Damn," he whispered without thinking.
She laughed, a clear, melodic sound that warmed the space around them.
"Took you long enough to find me."
Adam tried to speak. Nothing came out.
His jaw clenched, and he cleared his throat.
"Uh… hey."
She beamed, stepping closer.
"Hey."
And for the first time that night, Adam stopped thinking about his shirt, his awkwardness, the council member, or Luna's look.
Everything was just… her.
And that laugh.
The party simmered around them, music swelling into distant crescendos, blurred voices threading through the gaps in conversation, and golden, flickering light from string lanterns casting shadows that danced over Aiva's soft expression.
She stood close to Adam, her arms folded across her chest, cradling her own elbows as if the gesture could hold in the warmth she didn't realize she was searching for.
"Hey," she said quietly, a soft tug in her voice. "Sorry I didn't tell you about the dress code. I totally forgot."
Adam tilted his head, glancing down at his wine-stained T-shirt, then back up with an amused half-smile. "Well... at least I made a statement."
She laughed gently, her eyes flicking over his figure. "You kinda did. Still, it wasn't cool of me. I picked out this outfit hoping to impress someone."
Adam's brow quirked. "Bryce?"
Aiva nodded, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "Yeah. But he bailed... and I didn't want it to go to waste."
Adam's gaze lingered on her for a beat too long, as if fully noticing her for the first time in this light. She looked effortlessly enchanting.
"You look... really good," he said.
Her breath caught just slightly, and her lips curled in surprise. "Thank you," she replied, voice a touch breathy, cheeks pinking. She looked away, and in that moment, she wandered what the rest of the day had in store for them.
***
There was something about him, something she hadn't quite figured out. Adam wasn't like the others. He was present, grounded, even when the world around them felt like smoke and mirrors.
But the oddest part was how she was drawn to him as a magnet would. even if she didn't particularly fancy him. As the music shifted tempo, drums pulsing like a heartbeat through the floor, the crowd blurred into a background haze.
She could barely remember the last time she'd shared a moment like this with Bryce. And yet here she was, talking to a boy who'd stumbled into her world less than two weeks ago and already had her feeling like... Like she mattered.
She didn't want to feel it. This strange comfort. But it wrapped around her like a slow tide.
Adam reached for his cup, and his fingers brushed hers.
Just lightly.
A blink of warmth. A spark she hadn't anticipated.
Her fingers lingered. His didn't.
Oblivious, probably. Adam just sipped, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, talking about how the juice reminded him of something his grandfather used to make. He was casual, relaxed, while her heart thumped with every stolen glance. 'But why now? Why him out of all people?'
"Hey," she said suddenly, a little too loud.
He turned to her.
"You should take that shirt off. I mean, it's stained, and... you're kinda ruining the vibe," she added with a teasing smirk, though her voice trembled faintly at the end.
Adam paused, gave a dramatic look down at himself. "Y'know what? That's fair."
He reached behind his neck and pulled the shirt over his head in one smooth motion. Her eyes traced over the lean lines of his torso, the way his chest rose and fell, how his skin caught the golden lighting.
Then she saw it.
A tattoo. Small but striking, etched on his lower chest. A slender spear of black ink cutting straight down the center of his sternum, ending in a neat crescent curve. Above it, a star-like cross flared out, balanced by the half-moon that crowned it. Minimal, symmetrical, sharp in its geometry. Strange, but not frightening. It had carried the sterile grace of an emblem, a symbol etched in secrecy. It pulsed faintly with the shadows, like it had its own heartbeat.
"That's... beautiful," she whispered.
He looked down at it, then shrugged. "Oh this ol'thing... Got it from mom."
But for a fleeting second, her heart clenched. Something about that mark stirred her. A whisper just beyond memory. Like a faint echo from a forgotten dream.
She shivered.
"You cold?" he asked.
She shook her head quickly. "No. Just, nevermind."
They fell into conversation again. This time about nothing. School. Clubs. How weirdly tall Brandon was up close. And in the midst of it, she felt it again.
She didn't want this to end.
Did he feel it too?
Or was he just being kind?
Then came the scream.
"BEAR!"
The music cut off.
Chaos detonated around them.
People ran, screaming, pushing, trampling over grass and drink cups and picnic blankets. The lantern lights swung violently above, shadows lurching like demons through the smoke.
Another scream.
Closer.
She heard it then, the roar. Deep, guttural, otherworldly in its volume. It tore through the air like a beast out of mythology.
Adam grabbed her wrist. "Come on!"
She turned and bolted, her hand clutching his as they tore through the madness. Elbows knocked into her ribs. Someone screamed in her ear. A girl fell beside them. But she ran. She ran with Adam's grip firm in hers, her breath sharp with panic.
But somewhere along the way... his hand slipped.
She didn't realize it at first. She was still running.
Then she felt it.
The absence.
She turned back.
"Adam?"
Nothing.
She spun in place, gasping, eyes wild.
"ADAM!"
She tried to push back against the current of fleeing bodies. Panic rose in her throat like bile.
Something was wrong.
There was a pull in her chest, a strange magnetic ache she didn't understand. Like a storm building deep within her. It wasn't fear. It wasn't just adrenaline.
It was familiar.
But she couldn't remember why.
Meanwhile, the moment his fingers slipped from Aiva's, Adam heard the groan.
He stopped running.
Brandon. On the ground, clutching his leg, face twisted in pain.
The bear was closer now, its massive frame barreling out of the treeline. People were screaming from across the river.
Adam didn't think.
He grabbed a nearby punch table, knocking drinks everywhere, and hoisted it above his head with a sharp grunt.
"HEY!" he shouted, swinging the table wildly.
The bear's eyes locked on him.
Brandon screamed, "You idiot! What are you doing?!"
"Saving your sorry ass nigga! Get up and run!"
The bear roared again, and Adam took off, table still in hand, sprinting toward the river. His feet pounded the earth. His lungs burned.
Behind him, the bear followed.
He tossed the table aside and plunged through reeds, bounding over stones and roots. He reached the shore and dove into the shallows, gasping as the cold water swallowed him.
He thought it might stop the bear.
He was wrong.
Bears could swim. And fast.
He reached the opposite bank, slipping in the mud, scrambling to his feet.
Then, nothing.
No splash. No roar.
He turned.
The bear had stopped, just at the edge of the river, eyes fixed on him. Adam's body trembled. His limbs buzzed.
He picked up a rock.
"Back off!" he shouted, throwing it.
It bounced harmlessly off the bear's shoulder.
Another rock. Another yell.
Still, the bear stepped forward.
He could hear his own heartbeat now.
Play dead if it's a grizzly. Fight back if it's a black bear.
Which was this?
He couldn't tell. He didn't know.
Then suddenly... the bear stopped.
Its ears twitched.
It let out a final huff and turned, lumbering away into the trees.
Adam dropped to his knees, breathing hard. More than confused, he was relieved he got to keep his life another day.
Distantly, he heard gasps, shouts. People calling to him from the other bank.
They'd seen it.
They'd seen all of it.
But all he could hear was the pounding in his head. The sharp, familiar voice of Morris echoing in his skull:
"you always seem to be two steps from trouble."
Adam let out a tired, half-laugh, one filled with disbelief and surrender.
He raised his eyes to the stars and muttered, "Of course."
From far away, sirens began to wail.