Kissing his girlfriend in front of everyone.

Clara’s POV

Just as I settled in, the door swung open, and there he was—Nolan, striding into the room with an unmistakable air of arrogance, turning heads as he made his way to the front alongside her. My heart sank, panic threading through me. He was not alone.

Beside him was a girl I recognized, tall and confident, with long, flowing hair and a bright smile that seemed to light up the entire classroom. Rebecca, the latest cheerleader darling of the campus—a girl whose charm could draw attention even in a crowded room. The contrast was jarring; my stomach twisted at the sight of them together.

I feigned interest in my notes, trying to will the world around me to dissolve along with the tightening knot in my stomach. But Nolan’s presence loomed like an unwelcome shadow, his confidence thick and palpable in the air, especially with Rebecca giggling at something he whispered against her ear.

“Look who it is, our resident artist,” he called out, his voice smooth and taunting, heads turning in my direction.

I bit back the bitterness rising in my throat. “Shut up, Nolan,” I hissed, keeping my voice low in a desperate attempt to ward off the impending embarrassment.

“Oh, don’t be like that, Clara.” He turned his charm on full blast, grinning like he was relishing this whole exchange. “I’m just here to appreciate your talent. Word is you’re quite the little Picasso.”

Despite myself, I felt the heat rise in my cheeks—embarrassment spilling over like an uninvited guest. “Why don’t you just focus on yourself for once?” I countered, hoping to focus on my sketchbook, but the words felt weak and hollow beneath the strain of my emotions.

“I do focus on myself,” he countered, his tone bemused as he shifted his attention back to his girlfriend. “But how can I resist when you’re so clearly under my skin? Especially now that I have someone to keep me entertained.”

His implication rattled around my mind, making me feel small and insignificant. I wished nothing more than to flee, to seek solace in the solitude of the art studio where I could drown out thoughts of him and his sunny girlfriend, but his smirk, that infuriatingly charming smirk, held me captive.

When the lesson began, I tried to concentrate, but the whispers around me cascaded like heavy rain. “Did you hear Nolan is with Rebecca now?” a girl whispered to her friend. “What a power couple!”

“Right? I heard they were seen all over each other last night at that party,” came the reply, dripping with excitement.

They were talking about him—talking about *them*—while I sat there, an invisible wall between me and the growing crowd of students. The easy laughter, the murmured compliments, all filled the air like thick smoke, suffocating me as I tried to keep my eyes on the board.

The class dragged on, yet every moment felt like an eternity. I could feel Nolan’s charismatic presence at the front of the room, the ease with which he interacted with Rebecca—how he smiled, how he leaned in closer to whisper something that had her laughing. Each giggle from her turned the knife deeper.

Just when I thought I could handle it, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips, a bold display that reverberated throughout the room like a shot fired. The sight and sound of it echoed in my mind, sending a shockwave through my chest that left me gasping for air.

My hands trembled on the edge of my desk, my heart racing uncontrollably at the dual emotions colliding within—anger and something else I refused to acknowledge. He was my tormentor, yet here he was, so effortlessly charming and loved.

“Wow, did you see that?” someone murmured nearby, and I clenched my jaw, squeezing my eyes shut as if to block it all out. I wanted to disappear, to shrink away from their prying eyes and the stinging sensation of jealousy that surged fiercely within me.

“I wonder how long this one will last,” another voice chuckled, and I could hear the sneer dripping from their words, as if they sensed my pain.

“Poor Clara,” someone whispered, and the sympathy in their tone set my skin on fire. *Poor Clara?* I was not the one wrapped up in false pretensions.

Finally, the bell rang to signal the end of class, and I didn’t wait. Grabbing my things, I bolted from my seat, desperate for escape. I needed air—a chance to break free and let the warmth of the world outside wash over me.

I slipped down the hallway, the crowd parting like the sea as I navigated toward the art studio, my sanctuary, where I could lose myself in sketches and holes of solitude.

Once inside, the familiar scent of paint and varnish wrapped around me, offering a fleeting comfort amidst the morning’s turmoil. My heart still raced, moving quickly to find a corner for myself. This was what I needed—an escape from everything that threatened to suffocate me.

With each stroke of my pencil against the blank page, I poured my frustration into the swirling lines, desperately trying to exhibit the tempest of emotions roiling inside me. I lost myself in the rhythm of creation, hoping that each mark would push away thoughts of Nolan and Rebecca, the way their intertwined laughter and shared kisses echoed in my mind, leaving me feeling raw and exposed.

But as the hours flew by, clarity evaded me. Every moment felt weighted with the emotions I tried to suppress—the ones that demanded acknowledgment, the ones that swirled like a tornado, begging to be let loose. I pressed harder on the page, allowing my frustrations to bleed into the charcoal, but it was not a sufficient release.

“Clara?” The door rattled and opened, and there stood Jenna, her expression a mix of concern and impatience. “There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

I dropped my pencil and forced a smile, the mask slipping back into place. “Just working on some sketches.”

She stepped inside, her eyes surveying the studio with a spark of recognition, but her concern lingered. “It looks good. But are you okay? You’ve been MIA since yesterday.”

I shrugged, debating whether to peel back the layers of my facade. “I’m fine,” I said, hoping my words would convey more than I felt.

“Come on, Clara. You may think you’re fine, but you don’t act it,” she pressed, her brow furrowed with concern. “What’s going on with you and Nolan? I’ve heard whispers around campus.”

*Whispers.* The word struck me like a bullet, igniting fury mixed with embarrassment. The thought of people discussing my life, scrutinizing my every move because of him and Rebecca twisted uncomfortably in my chest.

“There’s nothing to discuss,” I insisted, forcing strength into my voice, hoping she’d let it go. “He’s just being a jerk, like always.”

“But everyone knows you two have a history,” she said, her tone steady yet sympathetic. “With you and him living together, I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I said I’m fine,” I repeated, though my conviction was wavering. “I just need time to deal with it.”

“Clara, you can’t keep shutting me out,” she said, crossing her arms, her eyes narrowing marginally. “You’re my best friend. I want to help.”

“I appreciate that, but right now, I just need space,” I murmured, turning my focus back to the sketches scattered across the desk, as if they could absorb my discomfort—a creative outlet for everything that felt chaotic within.

“What are you even drawing?” Jenna pressed, stepping closer, her curiosity hovering in the air.

“Just... some ideas,” I responded, flipping the sketchbook closed as if it were too precious to share.

“Let me see,” she insisted, practically reaching for the book in a bid to bridge the gap between us.

I hesitated, not wanting to reveal the chaotic reflections of my thoughts, the raw emotion I had poured out, shaping the nebulous feelings I still struggled against.

“No. Not right now,” I said firmly, pulling the sketchbook closer to my chest, an invisible wall building between us.

“Alright, just checking,” she said, raising her hands in surrender. “But don’t think I’ll stop asking. I’m here for you, always.”

I nodded, grateful for her sincerity, yet guilt coiled within me, tightly wound and uncomfortable. I didn’t want to put this burden on her; I didn’t want to drag her into the messy whirlwind of emotions that encircled Nolan and me. There were lines we crossed, feelings we stirred, things that felt deeply risky.

“Listen, I’ll get through this,” I said, forcing my voice to soften. “I appreciate you being here. Really. Just give me a bit of space to breathe.”

“Fine, but I’m not giving up on you,” she warned with a teasing grin, her spirits rising as she backed toward the door. “You need to let me know when you’re ready. I’m not going anywhere.”

After some light chatter, Jenna stepped back out of the studio, leaving me alone once more with my relentless thoughts. Alone, with the unsettling weight of my feelings for Nolan and the sharp pang of jealousy that layered my heart.

With a shaky breath, I threw myself back into my sketchbook, trying to drown out the chaos swirling in my mind. The warmth of the sunlight streaming through the windows offered a fleeting comfort, but it wasn’t enough to dispel the lingering images of Nolan and Rebecca together—his carefree laugh, the way his eyes sparkled with unyielding confidence as he kissed her.

The day wore on, each brush with reality a reminder that I couldn’t escape the web he spun around me and the shadows of attraction that encircled my mind like a storm. I was Clara Bennett, a hopeful artist with dreams unfulfilled, yet here I sat tangled in conflicting emotions surrounding the lascivious bond I shared with my stepbrother.

No matter how hard I tried, I would forever be tied to him—the rules of the game shackling me to an uncharted path filled with thorns and dark secrets I never wanted to bear.