Page 22 of Muse (The Forbidden Hearts #1)

SOPHIE

I spend the rest of the weekend at Sal’s, only dragging myself home late Sunday night.

My parents barely glance at me when I walk through the door, which is fine.

I’d rather be ignored than have to sit through their cutting questions.

Their silence somehow feels heavy, though. It’s loud. An oxymoron, I know.

I don’t sleep much. I just lie there, staring at the ceiling as if it might have the answers I seek.

Guidance for how to move forward. My phone stays beside me all night, the last message from Theo pulled up on the bright screen.

I keep clicking it open, staring, then closing it again.

My thumb hovers over the keyboard so many times I lose count.

I want to say something. I want him to say something.

But nothing comes. He doesn’t text. And I don’t have the guts to be the one who does first.

By morning, I’m at school before the sun is even fully up. The building is still and quiet. It’s weird, being here so early. The halls are still and quiet, a virtual ghost town. But I’m not here for peace and quiet, I’m here for him.

I’m nervous. The sick to my stomach, fingertips tingling type of nervous. I don’t know what he’s going to say or how he’s going to act. Will he avoid me? Pretend it didn’t happen? Will he look at me like I’m a mistake, an error in judgement, that he now regrets?

My stomach churns. I hate to even think that way. I hate that I expect it. But after Cole… it’s like I can’t help but brace for the rejection, the hurt. That eventually, everyone will decide I’m not enough, or too much, or just wrong in all the ways that matter.

But Theo’s not Cole. I know he’s not. He’s kind, and complicated, and everything I shouldn’t want. But I do. God, I do.

I sit alone in the classroom, the clock’s ticking louder than it should be. The overhead lights hum above me, the room too bright for so early in the morning. My pulse hums even louder, the sound echoing in my ears. Every second that passes stretches and pulls until it feels almost unbearable.

Then the door opens.

“Oh, shit!”

Theo startles so hard he nearly drops his coffee. His voice cracks a little, and he lets out a breathy laugh as he catches it just in time. “Didn’t expect anyone to be here this early. Class doesn’t start for another thirty minutes.”

I smile before I can stop myself, my chest growing warm.

He looks different today. Tired. His curls a bit messier than usual, his eyes a bit dimmer, like maybe he didn’t sleep much either.

His shirt is crisp, but hands loose, untucked, like he’d gotten dressed in a hurry.

Something about him looks off. Maybe he’s unraveling, just like me.

My gaze travels down the hard lines of his body, taking in the faint outline of his undershirt through the white cotton. I imagine touching him again, just for a moment. My hands gliding over warm skin, my lips brushing his neck. I have to bite my cheek to stop myself from doing something stupid .

When my gaze returns to his face, I see the heated, hungry look in his eyes. He’s staring at me. Hard. Looking right into the depths of my soul. Silence hangs heavily between us, the air charged with things left unsaid.

“Sorry for scaring you.” I say, working hard to make my words sound casual. “Woke up early this morning. Figured I’d get a head start.”

“You didn’t scare me,” he says quickly, narrowing his eyes and scowling at me. “I was just startled.”

“Same thing,” I shoot back, lips tipping up into a smile.

“Sure isn’t, Trouble.”

His voice dips when he says the word trouble , and my heart lurches in my chest. That nickname… it says everything he can't, or won’t, say out loud. With just one word.

He stiffens, his eyes widening like he hadn’t meant to use it aloud. Especially not here. Not now. Not at school. We are playing a very dangerous game.

“So…” I say, standing up slowly, letting the word hang between us. I cross the room toward him, every step deliberate. “Did you have a good weekend?”

His shoulders rise and fall with a deep, heavy sigh. One that tells me he’s not just tired, he’s exhausted. Tortured by this. By us.

“Sophie…” He eventually says. “Yes. I had the best weekend I’ve had in a long time.”

The confession hits my chest like a breath of air after almost drowning. My heart flutters, traitorous and hopeful. “Me too,” I whisper softly.

He’s quiet for a beat too long. It stretches in the air between us. I find myself holding my breath until he speaks again.

“Look…”

And just like that, the air turns cold. I don’t move as I brace myself for impact.

“We… this… it’s not going to work. It can’t work. ”

The words slice clean through me. I feel them in my throat, my ribs, my spine. It hurts. I look away, blinking fast. Feeling the backs of my eyes burn, tears threatening to fall.

My voice cracks. “I’m so close to graduating. Just a couple of months. And then none of it will matter.”

“It matters now ,” he says, staring at the floor like he can’t even stand to look at me. “It’s too much.”

He drags a hand through his hair, fingers trembling enough for me to notice.

“I need you to hear me,” he says, voice softer now.

“I can not do this with you. My job, my life… I’d lose everything.

And you…” He stops himself, jaw tight. “You’re too young.

For this, for me. It’s wrong. We’ve crossed a line we can’t uncross, but it can’t go any further. ”

Fuck. It’s worse than I’d expected. Not because of what he said, but because of the careful way he said it. Like this is killing him. Like he means every word, even though he wishes he didn’t.

He won’t even look at me.

I stand there, heart splintering in real time. Then, I reach for the nearest sticky note and scribble my number down on it with shaking fingers. It’s barely legible. I slap it down onto his desk, not bothering to meet his eyes.

“Just in case you change your mind,” I say.

And then I walk back to my seat, every step feeling like a scream in a silent room. I don’t look back. I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing the tears in my eyes.

But inside, I’m unraveling. Saturday night felt like something out of a dream. Or maybe a different life. One where we are allowed to want each other, out loud. One where our kisses aren’t accompanied by the threat of severe consequences.

Now? It feels like I’ve been shoved back into the gray reality of this life. Where I’m just a student and he’s just a teacher and we can’t be anything else.

Students start to trickle in. I keep my head down. My phone is clutched tightly in my hand, screen dark, just in case. Just in case he decides to text , to clear the air before class begins, to say something. But he doesn’t.

Sal slides into the seat beside me and gives me a long, sideways glance. She knows something is wrong. She always does.

He starts the lecture as if nothing happened, voice steady and clear but somehow colder. Harsher. He’s building a wall between us with every word.

But he keeps looking at me, eyes straying to mine again and again. Too often to be accidental, but too fast to be caught by other students. No one else seems to notice, but I do, and Sal definitely does.

I can feel her fidgeting beside me, clearing her throat every few minutes in an attempt to catch my attention. She’s practically buzzing with curiosity.

By the time the bell rings, I’m about to explode. I yank Sal’s hand and pull her straight to the bathroom, only letting go to begin pacing like a maniac while she watches me with wide eyes like you would an animal in a cage.

“Oh my god. I can’t stand this.” I say, gripping the edge of the sink like it might just keep me from falling apart.

She leans back against the wall, arms crossed, her face an expression of awe. “He couldn’t stop looking at you, Soph. He’s like, obsessed. But you seem so off. What the hell happened?”

“We talked,” I admit, voice quiet. “I got here early, and we talked. And then he told me it can’t happen. That I’m too young. That it’d ruin everything.”

She sighs, stepping closer to me. Filled with strength, enough for the both of us. “Maybe. But he’s lying to himself if he thinks he doesn’t want to be with you.”

I blink hard, trying not to cry. She puts her hands on my shoulders and turns me to face the mirror.

“Look at yourself,” she says. “You are strong. You are worthy. And you are absolutely not some silly, young girl with a crush. He knows it too.”

I nod, barely holding myself together. “I love you, you know. In case I haven’t said it lately.”

Her smile is warm, grounding me. “I know. And I love you more.”