Chapter 9: First Warning

The first thing I did the morning I woke up was head straight to the art studio. I was actually excited to be there, especially because all my art supplies were brand new.

The studios had always been my safe place on campus, the only spot where I could actually breathe without feeling like I was in some kind of competition.

I pushed the door open and smiled right away when I saw my new, big, blank canvas. The one Wade and I had picked out together.

I hurried over to my spot, but stopped short when I noticed how all the other students were staring at me.

"Is that her?"

I frowned when I caught a whisper from the side.

I pretended not to hear it.

I set my bag down on the floor, pulled my long red hair up, and twisted it into a messy bun. Then I slipped on my cream-colored artist’s apron and tied it snug around me.

I ripped open the plastic bag I’d been carrying and started pulling out my supplies one by one, laying them out carefully on the table.

But even as I focused on getting organized, the whispers didn’t stop. More of the other art students were talking behind me now, low voices I couldn’t quite make out, but I could feel every glance burning into my back.

"It's her..."

I ignored it again. I picked up the paintbrush and dipped it into the blue.

I smiled, a fresh start.

I started to bring the brush to the canvas, then stopped. Another whisper slipped through the room.

"That's the one?"

"She doesn't even look special."

"Oh, I expected too much."

I saw four girls standing by the entrance. They were pretending to look at the artworks. But the moment our eyes met, they quickly looked away.

Weird.

I continued painting, but as time passed, their whispers seemed to get louder, like they were doing it on purpose so I could hear.

"Seriously?"

"What does he even see in her?"

Then someone laughed. "Her glasses are even bigger than her face."

Right, they were honestly talking about me. Right now, I was the only one wearing big glasses. So what? What was their problem?

I glanced around. Almost all of them were staring at me while whispering, and some of them were laughing like there was something ridiculous about my appearance.

I frowned. Maybe I already had paint on my face. It wouldn't be the first time. I quickly wiped my cheek with the back of my hand.

I tried to focus on my painting, but the longer I stayed, the heavier their stares felt.

There were students here who weren’t even from the art department. They acted like they were just checking out the artwork, but every time I glanced up, I caught them watching me instead.

I seriously had no idea why.

"Come look, it's her..." I heard one of them say.

I got even more confused. I wasn't used to people watching me. I had never gotten the attention of students before. But why now? Did something happen?

I put down my brush and took my phone out of my pocket. I checked if there was any announcement from our university involving me, but there was nothing.

I was about to keep painting when I saw three girls walking toward me.

"So, you're Layla Anderson?" said the girl in the middle.

She was tall and slim, and her school uniform hugged her figure just right. She had perfect blonde curls, long lashes, and lips painted a bold red.

"Do I know you?" I asked.

I stood up and faced her. Her face scrunched up when she saw me. She looked me up and down like she couldn't believe what she was seeing. Like she had been expecting someone else.

"I expected someone prettier," she said, staring at me. The two girls behind her laughed.

"I didn't know I was famous," I said as I pushed my glasses up.

"Oh, trust me. You are now," she smiled. "But I'm afraid they'll be disappointed when they see you."

What the hell were they even talking about?

She walked closer to me.

"I'll keep this simple," she said. "Stay away from Wade."

"Who?" My brows furrowed.

"Wade Scott," she said.

I stared at her for a second. I wanted to laugh at what she said, but I couldn't.

"You've got the wrong person," I said.

"No, we don't." She tilted her head. "Don't play innocent, Layla. You've been with him for days now."

"It's against my will," I said, and I frowned harder.

"You think just because he talked to you for a few seconds, you're suddenly special? Oh, wake up."

She came even closer. She pushed aside the bangs that were covering my face a little.

"Do you like him?"

"What? No!" I defended.

"Sure," she giggled.

"I mean it! I don't like that guy."

"Then stay away from him."

I flinched when her smile dropped and her face went serious in an instant.

"I'm serious. You don't belong anywhere near Wade Scott. Look at yourself."

I stared at them, completely lost. I looked around and saw that a lot of people were watching us now.

What was wrong with these girls? Did they seriously think I wanted anything to do with Wade? Even if I wanted to say that, I felt like they wouldn't believe me anyway. What drove them to suspect me like this?

"I'm warning you, Layla." Something in her voice made the room colder. "If we see you around with Wade again, you'll regret it." She said it firmly.

I didn’t even get a word out before she stepped in closer.

I jolted when she nudged the tip of her shoe against the paint bucket beside me. She kicked it, and I gasped as blue paint splashed all over the white floor.

It didn’t stop there — my white sneakers were covered in it too.

What on earth?!

"Hey!" I said and quickly knelt down, trying to get the paint off my shoes immediately. They laughed.

"Oops," she covered her mouth with her hand. "My bad..."

I frowned and looked up at them. She turned her back to me, but before she completely left, she looked back at me. This time, she wasn’t smiling anymore.

"Consider your first warning," she warned. "The next one won’t be paint anymore."

Then they turned around and walked away as if they hadn’t just threatened me.

I looked down at my ruined shoes before lifting my eyes toward the studio door. What the hell was happening?!

I looked back at the girls inside, and they immediately put their focus back on their art.

"Great..." I whispered under my breath.

Now my whole hand had paint on it too. I quickly picked up the bucket and grabbed a cloth I always used to clean my things.

I stood up and walked out of the studio looking like a mess. The white sneakers I’d been wearing were now completely blue, and my apron had paint on it too, along with my hands.

I immediately looked for the nearest sink, but before I could take another step, I heard shoes approaching.

"Great fashion sense."

I got irritated the moment I heard his voice. I turned around.

He had on a black compression shirt and hockey pants, with his gear slung over his shoulder like he was headed straight to practice.

"Shut up," I rolled my eyes.

"What the hell happened to you?" he asked.

"Nothing."

"Doesn't look like nothing," he tilted his head, waiting for an answer. "You don't exactly look like the type to knock paint over by accident."

I didn’t say anything. I looked behind him, and I spotted her — the same girl from earlier, standing with her arms crossed, eyes fixed on me.

I bit my lower lip. I wasn’t afraid she’d come at me directly. What scared me was that her jealousy might end up destroying my painting.

I sighed.

"Layla..." Wade called.

He walked toward me, but I quickly stepped back.

"I'm fine!" I said and quickly turned around and walked fast so he couldn’t follow me.

A chill ran down my spine.

I knew those girls weren't done with me yet.