The Eighth Seat – Act II

By the time I made it across campus, the creative writing seminar had already started. I eased open the door, breath still fogging from the cold, and scanned the room. My usual seat—back row, left side—was already taken.

There was only one spot left that I could see from where I stood.

I slipped in, took it quietly, kept my head down until I set my notebook on the table.

And then I looked up.

Rylan.

Sitting beside me, thumbing the edge of his spiral notebook like he’d rather be anywhere else.

I leaned over, low enough that no one else would hear.

“What are you doing here?”

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