Chapter 8: Ghost From The Past.

LEAH's POV.

I hadn't seen or heard from Hardin over the weekend.

After the hockey game and interview, he'd disappeared into the locker room with the rest of his team. Ever since then, I found myself unconsciously looking at my phone, waiting for his texts.

"This is only an arrangement!" I had to remind myself. "There is no camera." But after the kiss we shared that night, it was hard not to feel anything. But then this was someone who would give a girl the best night of her life only to never call her back.

It was truly his reputation.

The bell rang and I slipped my phone into my bag. I hated how much I reeked of desperation, waiting for him to text me so I decided that I was done mopping.

This was all supposed to spite Ethan in the first place and after the stunt he pulled last night, I think he was suspended for a week. God I just needed to swear off men!

When I got up from my chair, Professor Emmett called my attention however. "Ms Hart," I turned around to him while the rest of the students walked out of class.

Professor Emmett had been my art teacher since I was a freshman and quite frankly the only one who believed in my pieces.

"Take a seat." He gestured, walking behind his desk and he pulled out my assignment which was a painting I'd done a week ago. My cheeks immediately flushed.

Did he think he was terrible? Of course he did.

"Before you say anything sir, please I did that overnight and I know it's not an excuse but it's just not my best work—" I blabbed and Emmett chuckled lightly.

"Relax, Leah." He had an Australian accent so the way he pronounced my name was slightly different. "I think it's really good." He added. My brows relaxed and my heart jumped.

"Really?" I stared at the piece with a hint of imposter syndrome in my voice. "In fact, it's one of the highest graded amongst your pairs. I really love the way you play with colors and you have quite the eye for detail. You're really talented, Leah." He paused.

"Just like your mother." My heart usually sank whenever he spoke about her. Emmett knew my mother, they'd gone to the same college back in the day and even though he never said, I had a feeling they might've been an item.

"She used to paint too?" I asked, forgetting when I was ten and found a whole drawer of her abandoned paintings before my father threw them all out. Every day that passed since then, it felt like I was forgetting her more and more.

"Where do you think you got your talent?" Professor Emmett smirked. "Look, Leah. I know it's a bit early but I do think you have what it takes to secure an art scholarship to study abroad. You have exactly what schools like Westbridge look out for." He said and I heaved a sigh.

Westbridge Conservatory was a prestigious art school all the way in New York. Besides the fact that a dream like that was far-fetched, I also couldn't leave this place. Not with my father ill and the rest of my life here.

"Just give me the word and I'll put your name down for it." Emmett said and I know deep down he wanted the best for me. "You know I can't," My voice broke. "My father...I can't leave him here."

"Are you really going to spend the rest of your life stuck in a small town like Ashwood when you're destined for something greater?" He asked. The truth was I couldn't afford to dream. I was in my sophomore year which meant I had just two more years until all this was over. I didn't have a dream, nor did I have a plan.

I was always jealous when Hazel would talk about getting a second degree in Manhattan and Julia would talk about law school. I wasn't nearly as privileged as they were. The fact that I was even in a school like Ashwood was because of a scholarship I got in my first year. Granted, if I maintained a CGPA above 4.5, I would get to keep that scholarship.

That was why I couldn't afford any distractions and I swore to keep my head down until this was over. Then this whole mess happened and I knew deep down I'd have to work twice as hard if I wanted to graduate. I could do all these things but only here in Ashwood. I didn't see an option where I got to leave.

"It sounds like you're just making excuses, Leah. You know this is not how she'd want you to live your life." He said. "You don't know that!" I snapped. "You don't know what my mother would want. It's been twelve years even I don't remember what she's like anymore." I got up and tears stung the back of my eyes.

"Thank you for the consideration, Professor Emmett but I think I'll pass..." I said. He smirked disappointedly, tossing a poster across the table. I halted next to his desk, picking it up.

"At least show up for this one." He said. It was an artist's workshop right here in Ashwood coming up in a week. Students would get to showcase all the pieces they got to work on throughout the school year. I scrunched the paper in my bag with a nod.

This one I could do. But certainly not moving halfway across the states.

"See you around, Leah." He said as I stormed out of his class, closing the door behind me. I walked down the hall to my locker and when I pulled it open, the first thing I saw was the art I'd saved from my mother before my Dad threw the rest away.

It was an abstract piece, not of anything in particular but when I looked at it, it felt like it was able to capture my exact emotion every time. Like I was holding a mirror to myself. Then one day I just stopped and I learnt to forget them. To forget her.

Emmett was right—my mother was immensely talented and I had her to thank. But it was easy to remember the good parts, not when she lost her mind when I was six and my Dad was worried sick. Now, my memory was weird but I lived to hear the stories.

Stories that she told me herself growing up. She always believed in the supernatural, the werewolves, the witches. She believed in fairy tales and magic, and everyone thought they were folklore. Ashwood was a town filled with it.

But then my mother claimed she started seeing things and that she was haunted by a force and slowly, we started to lose her. She died when I was six and nothing remained the same ever since.

I watched my father slip into a long-term depression with alcohol as an antidote. He was mad at everything that reminded him of her so he burnt her paintings and forbade anyone from ever talking about those stories.

"They're not real! It was all in her head!" He would scream at me whenever he saw me digging in her closet.

It was heartbreaking seeing what my father turned to over the years because of his grief which was why I couldn't leave him. Having dreams wasn't something I could afford.

My mother had a lot of them too and look what happened.

I shut my locker and made my way to my class of the day. Luckily, Professor Langley wasn't in yet but the rest of the students were seated. I slipped into the closest seat I could find which happened to be beside Marcus. I knew he was Hardin's best friend and this was one of the few classes we took with seniors.

Yet, I scanned around for him but Hardin was absent. I hadn't seen or heard from him since our kiss.

"Where's Hardin?" I mouthed to him when our eyes met and he shrugged his shoulders.

"He disappeared after the game on Friday night." Marcus replied. My stomach knotted and just then the classroom door swung open and Professor Langley walked inside but he wasn't alone.

Someone followed behind him and the room fell noticeably quieter.

I furrowed my brows, immediately recognizing her. Her red hair, her sharp sculpted jawline, and her feline eyes with the darkest pupils I'd ever seen. She was the girl from Friday night, in the stands staring right at Hardin.

"Class, before we begin, I'd like you to welcome a new transfer student. Veronica Cross." Her lips perched up with a smile and her eyes were quick to find mine. She was beautiful in an intimidating way. Her aura was a mix of dark, quiet confidence.

And as she walked down the aisle, I caught Marcus immediately become restive in his chair.

"Oh fuck." He cussed which was exactly Hardin's reaction.

"Who is she?" I turned to him and the paleness that washed his face told me that he knew. Just like Hardin recognized her that night.

Who was this new girl and why was everyone so shaken by her?

"Marcus." I sternly called and reluctantly, he parted his lips, giving away easily. "That's Veronica," He paused. That much I knew. But nothing could've prepared me for his next words.

And it all made sense why Hardin had disappeared since last night.

"She and Hardin go way back. She's the first girl he ever loved," Marcus said and my heart sank to my stomach.

"The only girl he's ever loved." I gulped a hard lump down my throat and when I looked at her, she was already looking at me.

Why was she back all of a sudden?