Page 17 of Muse (The Forbidden Hearts #1)

SOPHIE

T his has been the longest week of my life. Not at all exaggerating. How minutes can feel like hours is beyond me, each moment heavy with anticipation. Today’s the day. I’m going to the gallery.

I’d roped Sal into being my alibi, though she was all too happy to play along.

My mother's anger about last weekend almost ruined my plans, but thankfully, her anger had burned out quickly. After a few days of her berating me for my “poor decisions”, she’d forgotten I was supposed to be grounded.

Not that it would have stopped me. I would’ve snuck out if I had to… there is no way I’m missing this.

I arrived at Sal’s early to get ready, knowing my mother would question me getting dressed up for a night in “watching movies”.

Sal tears through her closet, hurling dresses my way as I sit cross-legged on her bed, dodging silk and sequins.

She’s got enough clothing for an entire army, and she insisted on dressing me for the occasion.

“Something in here has to work,” she mutters, the closet swallowing half of her words. “You’re not wearing sweatpants to an art gallery. ”

My mind wanders. Will he be there tonight?

Theo. I still haven’t said his name out loud again, haven’t dared to, and I want to know how it feels rolling off of my tongue.

My fingers itch with the sudden impulse to look him up online, but before I can talk myself out of it, I grab my phone and open Facebook.

Theo Hayes.

Damn. There are hundreds of them. I scroll, my heart drumming in my chest, until… there . My breath catches in my throat. His profile picture is about what you’d expect from a 30-something man, him and his dog. Simple and endearing.

A smile tugs at my lips as I stare at his face, forever a creeper. I click through to the rest of his photos, though there aren’t many. His timeline isn’t much different. Either he rarely posts, or his profile is locked down tight.

“Are you sure you don’t need me to come with you? I can cancel my plans!” Sal calls out, the sound high-pitched and breathy, like she’s run a marathon. Sorting through her clothes is hard work.

“No, that’s okay. I’ll be fine!”

Honestly, half of me wants to say yes and drag her with me so I don’t have to do this alone.

But the other half, the reckless and foolish part of me, hopes that he will be there…

that we will get to spend some time together outside of the school walls.

If Sal comes with me, I know I won’t have the same opportunity.

I still haven’t told her about the night I spent on his couch, too scared to say the words out loud.

Sal finally emerges, a silky nude dress in one hand and rose-colored, strappy heels in the other. My face immediately morphs into one of skepticism.

“I don’t know… that looks a little too fancy.”

“Just trust me!” She exhales sharply, clearly annoyed with my pessimism. “I looked up Rosa Gallery, it’s a swanky place. You want to look nice, I promise.”

“Fine, I’ll try it on.” I strip out of my sweatpants and hoodie, dropping them to the floor. I go to grab the dress, but Sal shakes her head and pulls it just out of reach.

“Soph, this is a no-bra dress. Take it off.”

I roll my eyes but follow her orders, hoping the dress has enough coverage to hide my nipples. If not, the bra goes back on. She hands it to me and I step into it, gently. Afraid to ruin the lavish fabric. Pulling it up, I wind my arms through the delicate straps and place them on my shoulders.

The dress is beautiful. I eye myself in the mirror, taking in the way the fabric clings to all the right places, accentuating my curves. It falls just below my knees, and the heels add the perfect pop of color.

I look older. Elevated. The reflection in the mirror isn’t the girl who sits in the back of classrooms doodling in the margins of her notebooks. It’s someone more confident and sophisticated. Someone who’s ready for tonight.

“It’s perfect!” I say, my smile widening. “Thank you.”

“Now sit,” she says, pointing to her vanity. “Time for hair and makeup.”

I sink into her pink fluffy chair, letting her work her magic as I close my eyes. Music hums from her speaker, and for the first time, I notice the playlist is made up of slow, angsty heartbreak songs.

“Hey, what’s with the moody music?” I crack one eye open, catching her scowl.

“You just messed up your eyeshadow! Close your eyes.”

I do, but I wait for her to answer. After a pause, she does. “It’s nothing—just feeling a little tense today.”

I don’t believe her. Something in her voice betrays the lie. “You sure about that?”

“Yep!” she says, her voice full of false cheeriness.

Got it, not in the mood to talk. I leave it alone. I want to push, but I have my own secrets. I can’t fault her for keeping hers .

I let her finish in peace, being a good mannequin so as to not mess her up any further. I’m not bad at hair and makeup, but she’s just so much better. When she tells me to open my eyes, my reflection in the mirror causes me to still.

I barely recognize myself. I look…stunning.

Smoky shadow darkens my eyes, the liner sharp and precise.

Rosy lipstick is the perfect compliment, softening the look.

My cheekbones stand out thanks to her expertly blended contour.

My curls are piled atop my head, twisted into an updo, but a few stray pieces curl down around my face, framing it perfectly.

I look regal and sophisticated. Beautiful.

“You work magic.” I say, mystified. Makeup is an art, one that she’s mastered. “Have I told you I love you lately?”

She laughs, tossing her brush onto the vanity. “You can never say it enough.”

A glance at the clock sends a jolt through me. I need to go. Pulling up the address again, I triple-check the time my GPS shows me arriving, and say my goodbyes.

“I’ll be back after, no idea when. What time will you be home?”

“Probably around midnight, but I’ll leave the key in case you beat me back.”

“You’re the best.” I say, giving her a side hug, careful not to wrinkle my dress. She’s going out with some guy from the basketball team, one that I’ve only seen in passing. He invited her out to a show tonight, and while usually she’d turn down a date like this, she said yes. Good for her.

We say our goodbyes and I slip into my car, heart hammering in my chest. The drive stretches out before me, city lights blurring in the distance. The closer I get, the heavier my chest feels, like something is pressing down on it. My fingers clench tight on the steering wheel.

My anxiety rears its ugly head, and I debate turning around, heading back to Sal’s. Retreating to the safety and comfort of a place I know. But I won’t let myself. I won’t hold myself back.

I will be confident.