Chapter 2 Coffee and Caution
Serena’s last text glowed on the screen.
”Someone’s following me. If anything happens, don’t trust..”
It had stopped there, mid-sentence. No one knew what came next. No one ever would.
Lila stared at it from her seat in the campus café, thumb hovering over delete and never pressing it. The morning light painted everyone else golden and alive. She just felt unfinished.
“I’ll find who did it,” she whispered, her voice barely audible under the hiss of the espresso machine. “I swear I will.”
“Talking to yourself already?”
Lila looked up. A boy stood across from her, holding two coffees and a crooked grin that looked like it had never known restraint.
She blinked. “Excuse me?”
“You’re mumbling at your phone,” he said, setting one of the cups down on her table. “Which means you’re either summoning demons or having a terrible morning. Either way coffee helps.”
“I didn’t ask for..”
“I know. That’s why it’s a good deed, not a transaction.”
Lila hesitated. “Are you always this forward?”
“Only with strangers who look like they’ve seen ghosts.” He slid into the seat across from her without invitation. “I’m Asher. Asher Quinn. Freshman, You're probably lost or probably late.”
“Lila,” she said warily.
“Nice to meet you, Warily.”
She almost smiled despite herself. “You think you’re funny.”
“I know I’m funny. It’s the only thing keeping me out of therapy.”
She raised an eyebrow. “So what are you studying, Comedy?”
“Journalism. Comedy’s just the backup plan if I get sued.”
He leaned forward, eyes sharp behind the playfulness. “And you?”
“Philosophy. Minor in photography.”
That made him pause. “Photography?”
“Yes.”
He let out a low whistle. “You picked the wrong department.”
Lila frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He looked around before lowering his voice. “Ever heard of the red-hair curse?”
“No. Should I have?”
“It’s kind of a thing here.” He stirred his coffee with a wooden stick, as if he were talking about the weather. “Every semester, a red-haired female student from the photography department dies or disappears. Always a girl and aways the same pattern.”
“That’s absurd.”
“I didn’t say I believed it,” Asher said. “I said it happens.”
She stared at him, trying to gauge if he was joking. “You realize I’m..”
“Yeah,” he said, eyeing the strands of her auburn hair gleaming in the sunlight. “Exactly.”
Lila leaned back. “And you decided to open with that because?”
“Because if I were superstitious, I’d say you’re walking straight into a bad story. And I like interesting stories, not tragic ones.”
She looked away, unsettled by how casually he’d said it. “I don’t scare easy.”
“Good,” he said lightly. “That makes two of us.”
They sat in silence for a moment, the crowd around them moving like background noise. Asher watched her fingers fidget with the paper sleeve of her cup.
“You transferred here, didn’t you?” he asked.
Lila hesitated. “Yeah.”
“From?”
“Does it matter?”
“No,” he said. “But people only come to Halden for two reasons, ambition or to chase ghosts.”
She looked up sharply. “Which do you think I’m here for?”
He held her gaze. “You don’t look ambitious.”
That should’ve stung, but his tone wasn’t cruel it was observant.
“Ghosts, then,” she said quietly.
“Yours or someone else’s?”
She met his eyes. “Someone else’s.”
He nodded once, like he understood something he shouldn’t have. “Come on. I’ll walk you to class.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
“I know. That’s what makes it charming.”
They left the café and crossed the quad. Halden’s campus stretched wide and green, dotted with stone buildings that looked older than memory.
“So why philosophy?” Asher asked.
“Because it’s about asking questions.”
He grinned. “So is journalism. Difference is, yours gets you a diploma. Mine gets me sued.”
She huffed a soft laugh. “You like provoking people.”
“I like getting reactions. They tell me who someone really is.”
“And what’s mine telling you?”
“That you don’t trust easily,” he said. “But you want to.”
Lila stopped walking. “You think you’ve got me figured out after one coffee?”
He shrugged. “Just guessing. Am I wrong?”
She looked away, jaw tightening. “You talk too much.”
“Occupational hazard.”
They reached the philosophy hall, its stone arch casting them into shadow. The sound of students echoed faintly from inside.
Asher glanced at the door. “You sure you want to do this?”
“What, attend class?”
“Yeah. In that building. Where three of the victims took photography electives.”
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“A little.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes this time. “Fear keeps things interesting.”
“Then maybe you should be afraid.”
“Maybe I already am.”
For a moment, neither moved. Then Lila sighed and pushed open the door. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I’ve been called worse.”
Inside, the hallway buzzed with voices and the click of cameras. A poster on the wall read: Photography Exhibition Dedicated to the Students We Lost. Rows of framed portraits lined the corridor. Each one showed a smiling girl, different faces, same haunting shade of red hair.
Lila slowed down. Her throat felt dry.
Asher noticed. “Are you okay?”
“They look happy,” she said softly.
“That’s the creepiest part,” he replied.
At the end of the hall, a group of students laughed around a tripod. One of them, a girl with bright red curls, caught Lila’s eye and waved politely. Lila managed a small nod before turning away.
“See?” Asher said. “Still redheads left. Braver than both of us.”
“They don’t believe it’ll happen to them.”
“Neither do you,” he said, watching her closely.
She didn’t answer.
As they reached her classroom, she paused. “Thanks for walking me.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” Asher said. “I have terrible timing.”
“What’s that supposed to..”
A burst of white, bright light filled the corridor, in a flash. Lila flinched, turning sharply toward the window.
Outside, sunlight glared off the quad but she’d seen it. A camera. Someone had just taken their photo.
She stepped closer to the glass. The crowd outside looked normal, a few students, a group laughing near the fountain, someone tying their shoe. No one holding a camera anymore.
Asher frowned. “Was that..”
“Yeah.”
“Someone just…”
“Photographed us.”
They looked at each other, tension coiling between them.
Asher’s usual grin was gone. “Are you sure you want to stay in the photograph
y department?”
Lila’s pulse raced. “I think I just lost the choice.” She looked outside again, is this how her sister's killer made her his next victim? Or is someone interested in her?
