Chapter 20 Tyra Baker
Phoebe
‘Tyra Baker’
I saw a name tag on her left chest. She looked confident and friendly. Her face was quite thin with a small mole under her lip.
As the bell rang to signal the start of the next period, I thought Tyra would move to her assigned seat, but instead, she stayed rooted beside me, her gaze flicking between me and the book on my desk.
“So, what do you think of the note?” she asked, resting her chin on her hand, her elbow propped on the desk.
I hesitated, my fingers brushing the cover of the book. “Oh, I haven’t had a chance to look at it yet,” I replied quickly.
Tyra’s lips curved into a mischievous grin. “Well, don’t keep me in suspense too long. It’s not every day I write heartfelt messages, you know.”
I managed a tight smile, trying to mask my growing discomfort. Her energy was relentless, and I still couldn’t figure out what her angle was. Was she really just friendly, or was there something more to this sudden interest in me—or rather, in Phoenix?
From the corner of my eye, I saw Finley lingering by the door, pretending to adjust his bag but clearly keeping an eye on us. His usual cool demeanor had been replaced with something sharper, almost protective.
“Tyra,” I began carefully, hoping to steer the conversation elsewhere, “you mentioned the advancement exams earlier. How’s the preparation going?”
Her eyes lit up. “Better than I expected! Honestly, I’ve been cramming nonstop, but your advice really helped. Focus on my weaknesses first and then build from there? Genius.”
I nodded, filing away that tidbit for later. Apparently, Phoenix was the type to give solid academic tips. Good to know. “I’m glad it worked out for you.”
“It did,” she said, leaning closer. “But I was wondering... maybe we could study together sometime? You seem like someone who always has their act together. I could use that kind of influence in my life.”
Before I could respond, Finley’s voice cut in from behind her. “Phoenix doesn’t have time for study sessions. Too busy with, you know, actual priorities.”
Tyra spun in her seat to face him, her expression cool. “And you are?”
“Finley,” he said flatly, his gaze flicking to me. “We’re... close. We’re teammates.”
The tension between them was immediate and suffocating, and I felt like I was stuck in the middle of a silent standoff.
“Interesting,” Tyra finally said, her voice dripping with curiosity. “I didn’t realize Phoenix had such a devoted... companion.”
Finley’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond, and I decided to intervene before things escalated. “Okay, enough of this. Let’s just focus on the lesson, shall we?”
Tyra’s smirk lingered as she turned back to face the front, but I could feel the unease radiating off Finley. Whatever this was, it was far from over.
At the day, the cafeteria was alive with its usual buzz of chatter and clinking trays. I had barely taken a bite of my sandwich when Tyra appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, her tray clutched tightly in her hands.
“Mind if I join you?” she asked, though she was already sitting down before I could answer.
“Uh…” I blinked, caught off guard. “Sure.”
She grinned, oblivious to my hesitation. “Great. I hate eating alone.”
As she dug into her food, I forced a neutral smile and focused on my meal, hoping she’d take the hint that I wasn’t in the mood for company. But Tyra didn’t seem to get the memo.
“So, Phoenix, where did you transfer for again?” she asked casually, her tone light but her gaze far too intent.
I hesitated. “Oh, you know, just another sport. Nothing special.”
“Hmm, I figured. You’ve got that air about you—like someone who’s been around.” She laughed softly, but the comment made me stiffen.
From across the room, I felt Finley’s gaze burning into me. I glanced his way and saw him sitting with a few others, but his focus was entirely on us. His lips pressed into a thin line, and I could almost feel the storm brewing in his mind.
Tyra didn’t notice—or didn’t care. She leaned forward, resting her chin in her hand. “You’re so composed, you know that? Like, nothing rattles you. I wish I had that kind of confidence.”
I nearly choked on my drink. Composed? Confidence? She clearly hadn’t seen me on a bad day.
“Thanks,” I said lightly, trying to steer the conversation away from me. “But I’m really not that special.”
“Don’t be modest,” she insisted, her eyes shining with what I could only describe as admiration. “I mean, you’re smart, kind, and you’ve got this mysterious vibe going on.”
Across the cafeteria, Finley stood abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. He picked up his tray and started walking toward us, his jaw set in that way that screamed trouble.
Before he could reach us, I shot him a warning look. Not here. Not now.
By the time I reached the library, I thought I’d finally shaken her off. But no, there was Tyra again, clutching a stack of books and flashing me a sheepish smile.
“Fancy seeing you here,” she said, sliding into the chair across from me.
I sighed inwardly, keeping my expression neutral. “Do you need help with something?”
“Yes, actually! This essay for Mythic Studies is killing me. I thought you might have some tips.” She spread her books across the table, effectively barricading me in.
I nodded, hoping to make the exchange as quick and painless as possible. “What’s the topic?”
As Tyra launched into a rambling explanation, I struggled to focus. Her words blended into a steady hum, relentless and grating. I didn’t mind her knack for filling silences—it kept things from getting too heavy. But now, it felt like she was smothering me, each word weighing down my chest.
The creak of the library door snapped me out of my haze. I didn’t have to look up to know who it was. The air shifted, a sharp, almost electric tension cutting through the stillness.
Finley.
He moved with that calculated grace of his, the kind that made everyone around him second-guess themselves. His sharp eyes swept over the room before locking onto us, unyielding and direct. He didn’t approach, not at first. Instead, he lingered nearby, fingers trailing over the spines of books with a feigned nonchalance. But I knew better. Finley didn’t do casual.
Tyra finally noticed him. She leaned in, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. “Your friend looks like he’s deciding whether to break something or someone.”
“He’s just… protective,” I muttered, brushing it off, though the truth lodged like a thorn in my throat. Protective didn’t even begin to cover it.
Before Tyra could pry further, Finley’s voice cut through the air, low and razor-sharp. “Phoenix.” My name rolled off his tongue like a warning, the casualness of his tone betrayed by the edge underneath. “Did you forget about the strategy meeting later?”
My stomach twisted. The words seemed harmless, but his eyes… They held a silent demand, an unspoken tension that prickled under my skin.
I opened my mouth to respond, to defuse whatever storm brewed in his mind, but his gaze shifted—to Tyra.
And for a split second, the look he gave her wasn’t protective.
It was something else entirely.
Something that sent a chill racing down my spine.