Her head snaps toward me, and for a brief second, I see something flicker across her face—annoyance? Embarrassment? “Adeline, not now,” she hisses, her tone sharp, dismissive.
My heart sinks, the hope shattering as quickly as it had formed. Is she embarrassed? By me? I hesitate, then step closer, gesturing to the empty seat.
“That seat’s for someone else,” she says curtly.
“Oh.” The word falls from my lips, heavy and hollow. And then I see her.
Ava Grey struts into the room and makes her way to Naomi’s side, claiming the seat with ease. I glance at Naomi, silently pleading for an explanation, but she won’t even meet my eyes.
“Aw, did you think she was saving this spot for you?” Ava mocks, her voice dripping with condescension. “How cute.”
Laughter ripples from Ava, sharp and undeniably cruel, but what cuts the deepest is Naomi laughing along with her.
The knife twists in my chest, and I’m sure if I stand there a second longer, I’ll shatter. So, I don’t. I turn, swallowing the lump in my throat, and make my way to the back of the room. They won’t get the satisfaction of seeing me cry.
As I scan for an empty seat, my gaze lands on someone unexpected. Christian Ryder, sitting alone in the corner.
He’s hunched over a book, completely absorbed.
He’s reading Shakespeare, I realize with a jolt.
I summon a shred of courage and approach him, blurting out, “Shakespeare?”
His head lifts, his eyes narrowing slightly as he takes me in. For a moment, he looks genuinely surprised, but it fades quickly, replaced by indifference. “Mhm,” he replies, his tone flat.
My enthusiasm deflates. “I… I love Shakespeare too. Which play are you reading?”
“Hamlet,” he says in the poshest British accent I think I’ve ever heard, before returning his attention to the book,suggesting I’ve already overstayed my welcome, which I probably have.
“Oh. That’s one of my favourites,” I say, though my voice is quieter now.
He shrugs. “Okay.”
I step back, my earlier courage evaporating. “Well, enjoy your reading,” I mutter, retreating to an empty seat in the opposite corner.
Just as I sit down, someone slides into the seat beside me. I glance over, startled, and my breath catches. He’s… cute. Really cute, with ginger hair, warm brown eyes, and freckles scattered across his face like constellations.
“Hey,” he says, flashing a wide smile.
“Hello,” I reply, trying to sound normal. Which is difficult when your heart is suddenly racing.
He gestures toward Naomi. “Was that your sister?”
I nod, unsure of where this is going.
“Your sister’s a bitch,” he says matter-of-factly.
I blink, caught off guard. “She can be. I’m sure she didn’t mean it, though,” I say weakly.
He raises an eyebrow but doesn’t press. A silence falls between us, but it’s not uncomfortable. If anything, it feels… calm. Like he’s not in a rush to fill the space with empty words. His gaze lingers on me, and I shift slightly under the weight of it.
“Um, is there something on my face?” I ask, my voice smaller than I intended.
He laughs, a soft, melodic sound that sends warmth blooming in my chest. “No, not at all,” he says, his tone reassuring. “I was just thinking you’re really pretty.”
My cheeks flush instantly. “Oh, uh, thank you,” I stammer, fumbling over the words. “You’re… you’re also… pretty.”
Oh my god. Why am I like this?
