Chapter 5

I avoided the cafeteria for a few days, and to my relief, the girls who had been chasing me stopped bothering me. On top of that, I hadn’t seen my so-called partner again, which forced Lisa to back off, allowing me to focus more on my classes.

It was PE class, and after warming up, I took a deep breath, looked up at the cloudy sky, and sat down on the bench. Once again, I was left on the sidelines, not getting into the game. After that, I headed to the archery club for the first time in three weeks, mentally preparing myself to face my classmates.

I was disappointed to see that there were more people in the club than I had expected. At Heington, it was one of the least popular clubs, but here, at least a dozen people were gearing up and getting ready to train. I took my time putting on my equipment, letting the others go ahead. No one welcomed me or even acknowledged my presence. Well, maybe that was for the best...

"Oh, what a shame! Looks like we’re out of bows!" sneered a skinny blonde girl named Lorraine, a friend of Morgan. She was part of the group of girls who had tried to pull the paint prank on me.

"No worries, you can use mine," a deep voice said from behind me. I didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. I had memorized his scent just so I could avoid him, so I recognized it before he even reached me. Nicolas stepped up beside me and held out his bow. I hesitated to take it.

"You’re really gonna lend your personal bow to her? It’s worth a lot, and this clumsy human might just wreck it," Lorraine mocked with a sarcastic tone.

"In that case, I’ll personally teach her how to use it," he replied. His supposed kindness didn’t fool me, especially since he didn’t seem to mind the insult she had just thrown my way. I took the bow and arrow from his hand, moved to the open lane as far from the target as possible, and sharpened my senses.

He handed me an arrow from his quiver, but before he could step closer to give me instructions, I nocked the arrow, aimed, and fired.

"Whoa!" he exclaimed in surprise as the arrow hit dead center.

"Pure luck!" Lorraine folded her arms, incredulous. That drew the attention of the others, turning my shot into a spectacle. I grabbed another arrow from his quiver and fired it before even repositioning myself. The arrow split the first one, hitting the center again. Without hesitation, I grabbed another and repeated the feat. Three perfect shots in a row.

The stunned expressions of the other club members made my wolf restless again, warning me to keep a low profile, but I couldn’t help myself. Being called a "clumsy human" made me realize they knew nothing about me. It wasn’t just because I had grown up among humans—it was because they actually thought I was one.

I handed the bow back to Nicolas without a word and ran out. That was not just my first, but also my last day in that club.

"Eliza, wait!" Nicolas called out, running after me. I stopped in my tracks and turned to face him.

"What do you want?" I asked, wary. I swore to myself that if he tried to humiliate me again, I’d claw his face off.

"Have you ever thought about signing up for the archery tournament? Registration opens soon. That thing you just did was amazing!"

"No!" I snapped. "I’m quitting the club. Excuse me."

"Why are you so damn arrogant?" He grabbed my arm as if to confront me, but what happened next was even worse. He pulled me toward him, and we both tumbled onto the grass.

The hair clip holding my hair in place came loose, and I found myself pinned beneath him. His brown eyes locked onto mine, a mix of concern and frustration in them. His slightly squared jaw opened and closed as if he wanted to say something, but instead, he just cursed out loud.

"Who the hell missed that shot?" He got up, glaring at the approaching group, picked up an arrow that had landed right where we had been, and snapped it into pieces. Seeing the fury in his eyes, the group instantly backed away and disappeared in seconds.

"What the fuck! The next person who shoots an arrow past the club’s safety line is out for good!" he shouted at the top of his lungs, completely ignoring me on the ground.

I sat up and took off my glasses to check their condition. The frame was broken, and one of the lenses was cracked from the fall. A sharp pain shot through my head as I ran my fingers over the back of my skull, already anticipating the bump that was bound to form. I couldn’t believe I’d been so pissed off that I hadn’t even noticed the arrow coming at me.

"I’m leaving," I muttered, undoing what was left of my bun and letting my loose hair fall over my shoulders, still a little dazed by what had just happened. Before I could stand up, Nicolas extended a hand toward me, watching me closely.

"You should stop by the infirmary first," he suggested.

"I don’t need to, thanks," I declined, pushing myself up without his help until I was standing face-to-face with him. For a few seconds, we just stared at each other, and I saw the look in his eyes shift—irritation turning to confusion, then quickly to admiration.

One of my biggest fears had just come true, and it was only the third week.

"Lisa? Lisa!" I shook my head, avoiding his gaze, but then he gently touched my face, forcing me to look at him again. "It’s really you. I’m sure of it! I’m your biggest fan!"

I couldn’t stay there. Unable to respond, I turned and bolted toward the school exit, praying no one else would recognize me. My heart pounded, dreading what the next few months would bring. If there was one thing I knew better than anyone, it was crazy fans—and I didn’t want to be chased all over again. I thought I could start over from scratch, as a normal person, or even as a nobody.

"Eliza, wait!" Nicolas caught up to me, grabbing my arm and pulling me toward the school parking lot. I was trapped—making a scene would only draw more attention. As he pulled his keys from his jeans pocket, I heard the beep of a red pickup truck unlocking a few feet away.

"Get in."

Reluctantly, I obeyed and climbed into the truck. As soon as he got in, he started the engine and backed out without a word. The silence only made my anxiety worse. I stole a few glances at him and noticed him looking sideways at me, as if he wanted to say something.

"I was at that concert," he finally said.

Painful memories flooded my mind—the day I gave up on my career.