Page 31 of Creeping Lily

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I’ve seen what happens when fire runs unchecked. First, it’s harmless—a glance too long, a hand that lingers. Then it becomes something heavier, hungrier. Something that can wreck everything. If Collins isn’t careful, that pull toward her will turn into something dangerous. And if that happens, it won’t just burn him—it’ll burn us all.

From where I’m standing, it’s obvious—he’s already leaning toward the flame. The way his eyes follow her, the unconscious shift of his shoulders when she’s near… he’s not immune. No man is. Lily’s charm isn’t loud or flashy; it’s quiet, steady—like a current under the surface. She doesn’t even know she has it, which makes it worse. You can’t defend against something you don’t realize you’re wielding.

And if Collins crosses the line from watchman to worshipper, I’ll be the one who has to put him back in his place. Maybe permanently. The thought sits in my chest like a stone. I huff out a breath, reminding myself that killing him isn’t an option. He’s valuable now. An asset. You don’t take a swing at a man like Massery Collins’ blood without expecting the blowback.

Lily and Collins drift back toward the others, the tension between them still humming like a live wire. I keep my distance, close enough to read every look, every micro-expression, but far enough to stay invisible. Their faces are already burned into my mind—like every other student here. In my office, their photos are pinned to a corkboard in neat lines, a network of who’s connected to who, who belongs, and who’s just passing through.

Every year there’s a standout—a wildcard who forces you to pay closer attention. This year, the balance feels different. Lily Snow has no idea what kind of power she carries or how many eyes are on her. That makes her dangerous in a way she doesn’t understand.

And then there’s Wendolyn.

This year’s real problem.

She’s a storm in designer clothes, rage wrapped in perfume. I’ve watched the way her gaze pins Lily—sharp, unblinking, like a predator stalking from the shadows. It’s not about Lily herself. It’s about Patrick McCordy—the boy Wendolyn wants but can’t have, because his attention belongs to Lily.

Wendolyn’s tried everything to get him to notice her. New looks, louder laughs, sharper digs at Lily when she thinks no one’s listening. None of it works. Patrick’s eyes always drift back to Lily, whether Lily wants them to or not.

Lily’s noticed the tension. She’s uncomfortable around them, but she’s not the kind to pick a fight. In her head, she’s probably figuring out ways to help Wendolyn get Patrick, blind to the fact that he’ll never look at her the same way he looks at Lily.

That’s what I respect about her—she’s not territorial. But that’s also what puts her in the crosshairs.

Because Wendolyn isn’t just jealous. She’s furious. And fury like that doesn’t stay bottled for long. It builds. It festers. Until one day, it explodes.

And when it does, it won’t be Patrick McCordy who pays the price.

It’ll be Lily Snow.

16

LILY

The sand shifts under my sneakers as I step onto the beach, the wind tangling strands of my hair around my face. Before I can even wave hello, Justin barrels toward me with a grin, scooping me off my feet in a bear hug that knocks the breath right out of me.

I laugh—half from surprise, half from the way he spins me like we’ve been apart for years, when in reality I saw him yesterday. And the day before that. And the day before that. Somewhere along the line, Justin Collins became the big brother I never knew I needed, the steady bridge between me and my best friend, Bethany.

“Put me down!” I squeal, tapping his shoulder as the dizziness sets in. He sets me back on my feet, still grinning like he’s gotten away with something.

“God, it’s like he adopted you and forgot he’s actually related to me,” Bethany mutters with a roll of her eyes. Her smirk takes the sting out of her words, but I catch the truth beneath them. Watching the two of them together is like peeking into a world I never got to have—a sibling who’s always in your corner, who knows you without you having to explain yourself. The achethat thought brings is sharp. Other than my mother and grandmother, I’m on my own.

Justin’s hand slides through my hair in an absent, affectionate gesture, his fingers combing lightly through the strands as if it’s second nature. Without thinking, I catch his wrist and hold it there, the warmth of his skin seeping into mine. The moment feels simple and safe—until Bethany clears her throat. The spell breaks, and I let go.

On this campus, I’ve managed to make a few acquaintances, but no one holds a candle to Justin and Bethany. Bethany, with her perfect hair and easy laugh, is what people call theItgirl—always in the center of the spotlight. Justin, though, was the one who dragged me out of my shell, who made it clear to anyone watching that I wasn’t to be messed with. With him around, I became untouchable.

“Pizza’s here!” Trick’s voice carries over the wind as he drops the boxes onto a makeshift table with a loud thump.

Patrick “Trick” McCordy doesn’t exactly hide the fact that he’s interested in me. Sometimes I think I’m reading too much into it—maybe he’s just naturally that friendly. Either way, I’ve kept my distance. I don’t want to blur lines or make things complicated, but avoiding him isn’t always easy. This is college. You can’t hole yourself up forever without people talking, and having this little circle around me has been… good. A safety net.

Still, trust doesn’t come easy. It’s hard to give it when it’s already been broken—when the people you trusted most destroyed it in ways you can’t forget.

Trick’s gaze sweeps over me now, taking in my windbreaker zipped up over jeans and a T-shirt. The ocean breeze bites against our skin, sending my hair whipping around again. He runs a hand through his own waves, pushing them out of his eyes before flashing me a smile.

“Got your favorite,” he says with a wink as he flips open theboxes. The smell of melted cheese and oregano mingles with the salt air. He’s trying too hard again, like he always does, and I still don’t know how to shut him down gently. I thought maybe he’d get the hint with time, but if anything, his persistence has only doubled.

Justin nudges my shoulder and leans in close, his voice dropping low. “When are you going to put the poor puppy out of his misery?”

I laugh, shoving him lightly as the others drift toward the table, each grabbing a slice before retreating into their own little huddles.

Our small circle feels like its own island, but the tension running through it is as real as the grit of sand between my fingers. Nobody says it aloud, but we all know the truth—Wendolyn has a massive crush on Trick. The problem is, his attention never leaves me.