Chapter 8: The Boy in the Back Row
Thursday crept in quietly, wrapped in soft grey clouds and the smell of oncoming rain.
Evelyn didn’t mind. She liked the gloom—it suited the words in her head. Stormy, unfinished, brimming with things unsaid. The kind of weather that made you want to write something heavy and true.
The Lit & Ink Club was already filling up when she arrived. Familiar faces—Jules, Tanner, and a few others she hadn’t memorized yet—smiled at her as she found her seat.
She pulled out her notebook, fingers tapping thoughtfully against the edges, when she noticed him.
Back row. Leaning into the shadow of the old bookshelf. Hoodie up, one knee drawn up to his chest. A notebook lay open in his lap, but he wasn’t writing. He was watching.
Or rather—reading. Everyone. Quietly.
His eyes were sharp, a shade of grey so stormy they almost looked black in the low light. His jaw was tight, and his whole body sat in that way that told you he was present, but not involved. Not yet.
“Who’s that?” Evelyn whispered to Jules, who leaned closer with a low smirk.
“New guy. Liam Bennett. Transferred last month from St. Elwick. Barely talks. Writes like a man with demons.”
Evelyn’s brows lifted. “And he’s here voluntarily?”
“Apparently. He doesn’t read out loud, though. Just listens.” Jules added with a shrug. “Kinda intense, but not in a serial killer way. More like he’s-seen-some-things kinda vibe.”
Evelyn glanced back at him. Liam didn’t look at her. But she had the eerie sense he already knew who she was.
The meeting began.
Today’s prompt was “Write a truth you’ve never said out loud.”
The room grew quiet, pens scratching paper like whispers in the dark.
Evelyn hesitated. Her mind spun.
There were too many truths. Too many timelines.
So she wrote:
In another life, I married the boy who killed me.
In this one, I’m still deciding whether to become the villain or the hero.
She didn’t read it out loud. She closed the notebook, placed her pen on top, and folded her arms across her chest.
One by one, others shared their pieces.
Jules wrote about fearing she'd never be loved unless she performed for it.
Tanner admitted he missed his mom, even though she abandoned him.
It was Liam’s turn. He didn’t raise his hand. Didn’t move.
But then, quietly, he spoke.
“I don’t like reading my own words out loud,” he said. “But I wrote this, and I guess it counts.”
Everyone turned.
His voice was calm. Low. Like it had traveled through smoke to get there.
Sometimes I think if I keep quiet long enough,
no one will notice the cracks in the silence.
Sometimes I think the silence is safer than being known.
But then again, I’ve never been known without pain.
The room was still. Nobody said anything for a few seconds.
Jules exhaled. “Okay, wow.”
Evelyn looked at him—really looked. And for a second, Liam’s eyes met hers.
It was like something shifted. A thread connecting two people with untold stories.
He looked away first.
After the meeting, she lingered. So did he.
Their books both lay open on the same table.
“You write like you’re bleeding,” Evelyn said softly.
Liam glanced at her, one brow raised. “And you read like you’ve been cut.”
She smirked. “Fair enough.”
He didn’t smile back, but there was something flickering behind his expression—interest, maybe. Curiosity.
“Why are you here?” she asked.
“Same reason you are, I guess,” he replied. “Trying to forget something.”
“You don’t even know me.”
He looked up again, and this time, she felt the weight of his gaze.
“I know you walk like you’re being chased, but stand like you’re daring someone to try.”
Evelyn’s heart did a funny flip.
“I know that kind of walk.”
She didn’t know what to say to that. So instead, she held his stare. Didn’t back down.
“Maybe I’m just trying to become someone new,” she said at last.
“Then don’t do it alone,” he said, already turning to go. “That’s how people vanish.”
Evelyn watched him leave, her heart both unsettled and strangely calm.
Liam Bennett.
A stranger with stormy eyes and truths too heavy for paper.
She didn’t know who he was yet.
But something told her—she needed to.
And maybe... he needed her too.