Page 28 of Muse (The Forbidden Hearts #1)

SOPHIE

I ’m early to school again Monday morning.

For the second week in a row. It’s quickly becoming my new routine.

I crave this time with him each day, before anyone else arrives.

Quiet and uninterrupted. No students. No teachers.

Not even Sal. Just Theo and me, alone in his classroom, living on borrowed time.

“Good morning, Sunshine,” I say, smirking as I step through the door.

His eyes snap up to mine, that dangerous dimple carving deep as he grins from his seat. He’s sprawled out like he owns the place. Legs wide, one arm draped over the back of the chair, the perfect picture of lazy confidence.

My heart stutters in my chest. Every inch of him is magnetic, pulling me closer without even trying. I want to climb into his lap and kiss him with abandon.

Right here. Right now.

“Good morning, Trouble.” His voice dips low on the last word, warm and dangerous. His eyes flick to the door, hyper-aware of our surroundings.

“I didn’t see anyone,” I say, hoping to ease the tension crawling across his shoulders. I did look on my way in. I wouldn’t risk everything for a moment like this.

Still, my body doesn’t always wait for permission.

He nods slowly. His gaze shifts again, but this time, it lingers on me. The caution in his eyes fades, replaced by something deeper. He crooks a finger, calling me closer.

I take careful steps, slow and measured. My hip finds the edge of his desk. I lean against it, close enough to feel the heat between us, but not touching him. Not yet.

His gaze moves over me, slow and deliberate, like he’s memorizing every inch.

Black cotton tee, cropped just above my waist. High-waisted Levi’s hugging my hips before falling long and loose to the floor, brushing the tops of my black Converse.

Casual meets cute. My signature style.

When his eyes return to mine, the heat there is nearly my undoing.

His hand slides over, fingers grazing the curve of my thigh. The touch is barely there, but it sets something off inside me. Heat rises through my body, fast and hungry, even with the denim in the way.

I flick a glance toward the door, making sure we’re still alone, then reach for his hand and lace my fingers through his.

“You look beautiful today, Soph,” he says, voice rough around the edges.

I smirk, leaning in just enough to tease him. “And you, sir,” I say, letting the words linger between us, “look handsome as hell.”

He chuckles, low and deep, and it rumbles right through me. “You’re killing me,” he says, eyes dark with heat. “But damn, I like the way that sounds coming from those lips.”

That wink of his? Still my favorite sight in the world.

The way he’s stopped fighting this, fighting us, makes my heart race. What we have feels dangerous and alive, like we are standing too close to the edge of a cliff. But it’s real, and knowing he feels it too? That’s everything.

I lean in, breath hitching, ready to steal a kiss. Just a brush of our lips to carry me through the school day?—

Then I hear it. Footsteps. Close, coming up the hall.

We fly apart like we’ve been caught red-handed and my pulse crashes in my ears. The look on his face twists my insides… part longing, part regret. I know it’s reflected in my own expression.

I retreat to my desk, sliding into the seat like nothing happened. I won’t be the reason anyone suspects him. Not for a second.

A teacher strolls past the open door. She glances in, offers a polite smile, and keeps walking. Theo shoots me a look, but I lift my shoulder in a small shrug. We heard her in time. That’s what matters.

I settle back in my seat, heart still racing, and wait for Sal to arrive. When she does, she gives me a look. Not at all subtle. All eyebrows and side-eye as she drops into the chair beside me.

“Got here real early, didn’t you?”

I roll my eyes, but I’m smiling. “Sure did.”

She shakes her head, but there’s a flicker of concern in her eyes. “You good, though?”

“I’m great.”

I love that she asks. That she always sees right through me. I owe her a full rundown on my weekend, anyway. I’ll tell her everything. Well, almost everything.

Class is easy today. Just a pop quiz and then time for free reading. He never piles on pointless work, which I appreciate more than I probably should.

Still, I take his class seriously. I want him to see me. Not just the girl who sneaks into his classroom early, the same one who spends nights curled up in his bed, but the student who earns her place .

I won’t be a cliché. Not for him, and definitely not for myself.

When the bell rings, I glance up at him, giving him a soft smile and a small wave. Sal’s right behind me, and yeah, she definitely clocks it. After she gives me a knowing nudge, we part ways with a promise to meet for lunch.

My next two classes blur past. I couldn’t tell you a single thing the teachers said. My head’s still in that classroom, with him. By lunch, Sal and I have claimed our usual spot in the courtyard. She pulls two sandwiches from her bag, and I grin.

“These from Mama Monroe?”

She laughs. “Yep. Guess she was in a nurturing mood today.”

Sal’s family has a cook, but her mom still insists on making meals sometimes. Just to stay human, I think. Down to earth. Honestly, she deserves a Best Mom award. If only my mother would take some notes.

I dig in. Plain chicken and cheese, but still better than anything from the cafeteria. Then I tell her about our weekend and everything with Theo.

I say his name—not Mr. Hayes —and she smiles like she’s been waiting for this moment. Her eyes stay wide as I spill almost everything. I hold a few details back. Some things are just for me.

But she listens like I’m telling the juiciest secret in the world. And, I guess I am.

“I just can’t believe it,” she says when I finish. “That this is really happening. You’re falling for our teacher.”

The emphasis she puts on teacher makes me roll my eyes.

“Shhh,” I say. “Keep your voice down. And I didn’t say I’m falling for him...”

“You totally are. You have literal hearts in your eyes, girl.”

She’s teasing, but we both know it’s true.

I am falling for him. Completely and totally. The feelings I have for him are so much more than a crush. There’s this space in my heart, one I didn’t even know existed, and it’s been growing just for him.

I just hope he feels the same way. I don’t think I can handle getting my heart broken again.

“Actually,” she says, her voice dipping, all fake-innocence and mischief, “why don’t you go find him? I bet he’s alone in his classroom right now.”

I blink at her. “What, so I can expose us, literally, to everyone in the school?”

She shrugs. “I’m just saying… sex on a desk sounds hot.”

“Sal,” I whisper, scandalized. “You cannot just say that.”

“Why not? I’m living vicariously through you. Let me dream!”

I pick up a crust from my sandwich and aim it at her head. “You’re lucky I’m not violent.”

She grins like the gremlin she is.

I roll my eyes, but lean in anyway. “Yeah… it does sound hot.”

That sends us both over the edge. We dissolve into full-on cackling, our laughter echoing across the courtyard like we’ve just lost our minds. A few people glance over, one guy across the way actually flinching.

We don’t care.

Lunch ends too soon, like it always does when I’m actually having fun. Sal and I split up at the doors, promising to catch up later. She shoots me one last teasing grin over her shoulder, and I already miss her.

After school, I head straight home. I was gone all weekend, which already felt like pushing it, and I don’t need to give my parents another reason to get suspicious.

When I walk through the front door, the air feels different. Tense. My dad’s in his study with a book, and, as usual, he doesn’t even look up.

I find my mom and sister in the kitchen, laughing over some shared joke I wasn’t part of. I stand there for a second, watching them like I don’t quite belong.

“Hi. Can I help?”

My mom glances up. “Sure.” That’s it. No smile. No hey, how was school? Just sure.

“How was your day?” my sister asks, cheerful as ever.

I smile for her benefit. “It was good. How about you?”

“Not bad. I’m tired though. And I’ve got dance tonight.”

“You’ll kill it,” I say. “Drink some coffee!”

My mom whips around like I just said something outrageous. “No coffee. It’s not healthy for a young woman.”

I roll my eyes. “Oh, but it’s fine for me?”

Her eyes narrow, gaze sharp as it zeros in on me. Yeah, she’s in a mood. And now I’ve made it worse.

“Excuse me? Are you talking back to me?”

My gaze drops to the floor. “No, ma’am.”

The silence hangs heavily between us, laced with tension.

Then, bless her, my sister jumps in. “So… I’m working on a new routine for our next recital!”

I look up, grateful. “That’s awesome. I’ll make sure I don’t miss this one.”

“That’s okay,” she says softly. “I know you’ve been busy.”

My heart tightens in my chest. I haven’t been the sister she deserves, and I hate that. I vow then to be better, for her. After all, she’s the only family I really have. I don’t see my relationship with my parents lasting long past graduation.

Dinner is quiet. We actually sit down together for once, but no one says much. Just the occasional comment from my dad on something he’d seen on the news. No one responds. My mother avoids political conversation with him like the plague, and I can’t say I blame her .

After we finish up, I retreat to my room, shower, throw on my softest pajamas, and climb into bed with my phone. Fingers twitching with the desire to text him.

Sophie: Hi

Theo: Hello

I chuckle at his bare reply.

Sophie: What are you up to?

Theo: Laying in bed. Missing you.

My heart skips a beat.

Sophie: I miss you, too.

Sophie: Can I call you?

Be bold, I tell myself. Then I second-guess everything, like I always do. I find myself wishing I could unsend the message, but then my phone lights up.

I answer on the first ring.

“Hi, Trouble,” his voice comes out low and gravelly. The sound of it has my stomach twisting in a delicious way.

“Hi, Theo.”

For a second, it’s just quiet.

“Today went by fast,” he says.

“It always does when I’m around you,” I say, and then instantly regret how that sounds out loud. What was I saying about not being a cliché?

But he laughs. That deep, warm laugh that gets under my skin in the best way.

“You know,” he says, “sometimes it scares me how easy this feels. Even though it’s not supposed to be.”

I go quiet. Not because I don’t know what to say, but because I feel it too. His emotions are so in tune with mine, it’s almost frightening.

"I get it, I really do," I say, a little softer. "It's so natural that it's frightening. But I'll keep choosing it. I'll keep choosing you."

He doesn’t say anything right away. Then …

“You’re not at all what I expected when we first met,” he says. “You’re so much more.”

My breath catches in my throat.

“More?” I ask, barely above a whisper.

“Yeah. More than just smart or funny or... you know. You’re real. And you’re brave, even when you don’t feel like it. I don’t think I realized how much color my life was missing until you showed up.”

I blink up at the ceiling, trying not to cry. I can be such a girl sometimes.

“You better not be watching Game of Thrones without me,” I say, because if I don’t change the subject, I’m going to lose it. I can’t be this far away from him when he says such sweet things.

He laughs again, softer now. “Never. Though... I’ve thought about it.”

We talk about everything and nothing after that. Catching up on the rest of each other’s days, sharing jokes that likely only make sense to the two of us.

And before I know it, it’s late. Like, stupid late. And I’m yawning, unable to hold my eyes open any longer.

“Sleep, Soph,” he murmurs. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Mmm.” I fall asleep with his voice still in my ear and this feeling in my chest that maybe, just maybe, this all will work out.