Page 3 of Muse (The Forbidden Hearts #1)

SOPHIE

M y head hasn’t been right all day. Not since first period. Not since he walked into the classroom and introduced himself as my new teacher.

I’ve been floating and spiraling in equal measure, caught somewhere between remembering that night and surviving the reality of what happened this morning.

I couldn’t tell you a single thing any of my teachers said, couldn’t even focus long enough to pretend I was paying attention.

My body might’ve been at school, but my mind was back at the bar, spinning under warm lights with his hands on my waist.

Then right back in that classroom the second he walked in.

And now I’m stuck in this weird twilight zone. Half-giddy, half-horrified. Because the guy I shared a perfect night with… the stranger I danced with, flirted with, almost kissed… is my new English teacher.

Mr. Hayes.

I can’t even think of his name without my stomach tightening.

Third period was the worst. I caught myself writing Hayes in the margins of my notebook like a lovesick idiot.

Just his last name, looping it in cursive like some ridiculous high school cliché.

The second I realized what I was doing, I ripped the page out and shoved it deep into my backpack like it was incriminating evidence. Which I guess, technically, it is.

And Sal? She’s been watching me all day like I’ve grown a second head. Kept nudging me in the lunch line, whispering comments about how I’m zoning out more than usual. I didn’t clue her in at all, just shook my head and blamed it on not getting enough sleep.

But she knows me, and she’s not buying it.

Sure enough, when I make it out to my car after the final bell, she’s already there. Leaning against the passenger side door, arms crossed, sunglasses perched on her head like she’s about to conduct a full-on interrogation.

“Lake?” she asks, and there’s zero room for negotiation in her tone. “I want answers. With a side of weed and sunset reflection time. Let’s go.”

I sigh, unlocking the door. “Get in. I’ll tell you everything.”

She grins as she hops in. “Knew you were hiding something.”

The drive out is quiet. The kind that feels like home, the silence of two best friends who know each other better than they know themselves. Sal doesn’t push. She just rolls the window down, lets the wind whip through her curls, and waits.

By the time we get to the lake, my chest feels tight.

The closer we get to our usual spot, the more real it all feels.

The dock stretches out into the still water, sun hanging low behind it, casting everything in burnt orange.

It’s quiet here. Our sacred space. A place the rest of the world can’t reach.

We kick off our shoes and walk barefoot down the worn planks, the wood cool and rough underneath our feet. I drop my bag and flop down near the edge, legs dangling just above the surface. Sal settles next to me, hurriedly pulling a joint from her jacket like she’s been waiting all day to light it .

We pass it back and forth in silence, the smoke easing tension from our shoulders as the sky fades slowly from peach to violet.

Eventually, she speaks. “Okay, I’ve given you time to breathe. Now you need to talk.”

I glance at her and bite the inside of my cheek. Then I take a deep breath and look up at the sky.

“You remember the guy from the bar?”

“Yeah,” she chuckles, “it’s hard to forget with the way you’ve been obsessing over him.”

“Well,” I say, my face turning red.

Her head snaps toward me so fast it’s a miracle she doesn’t get whiplash. Her eyes go huge. “No way.”

“Yeah.”

“Sophie. No. Don’t say it.”

“It’s him. Mr. Hayes.”

She grabs my arm. “Are you saying the mystery man from the bar—the one with the voice and the hands—is our teacher?”

I drop my face into my hands and groan. “Why do you say it like that?”

“Because that’s insane . That’s like... textbook forbidden romance shit. Literally textbook. You can’t make this stuff up. Well, someone probably could, but still.”

“Sal—”

“No, wait. You didn’t know. Right? He didn’t know. You had a moment. A magical, once-in-a-lifetime bar night where the vibes were immaculate. Then boom. Plot twist. He walks into your classroom and suddenly he’s Mr. Hayes.”

I shoot her a look. “Are you done?”

She just stares at me, wide-eyed. “I don’t know. Maybe. Did he recognize you?”

“Immediately.”

“Did he say anything? ”

“No. But I saw it in his face. It was like he’d seen a ghost.”

She flops backward onto the dock with a dramatic sigh. “I’m obsessed. This is like some dark academia slow burn novel. I’d read it.”

I lay back beside her and roll my eyes. “You’re so weird. And I’m so screwed.”

“Tell me why you didn’t get his name again?” she asks.

“You pulled me away,” I say, nudging her with my elbow. “Dragged me out before I had a chance.”

Her eyes widen. “Oh my god. Shit. I did. I totally did.”

“It’s fine,” I lie. “I figured I’d never see him again, anyway.”

She tilts her head. “If he weren’t your teacher... you think you’d pursue him?”

I don’t even have to think about it. “I’d be all in.”

She smirks like she already knew. “Of course you would.”

We lie there for a while, smoke curling into the fading sky. The lake’s gone from gold to blue. A breeze rustles through the trees.

“You staying over tonight?” she asks. “Mom’s making calzones.”

I groan. “Spinach and ricotta?”

“The ones you’d sell your soul for.”

“I wish, but I’m already on thin ice with mine. I should probably head back before she comes looking for me.”

Sal pouts. “Fine. I’ll eat your calzone like the loyal friend I am.”

“You’re so generous.”

She rests her head on my stomach and we lie like that until the stars start to peek through the dark sky.

Eventually, we gather ourselves and head back. She hugs me tight before I leave. “Text me when you get home. And please don’t fall for our hot teacher. Or do. But if you do, write it down. We’ll sell it later.”

I laugh, promise her I’ll text, and head out. I live farther out than she does, and the back roads are full of deer with no sense of self-preservation, so she always makes me promise. Always.

By the time I pull into my driveway, it’s pitch black. I cut the engine and sit there for a second, bracing myself. Maybe I’ll get lucky. Maybe they’re asleep.

I ease open the front door, slow and quiet, hoping I can slip into my room unnoticed. The moment I step on the squeaky floorboard in the hall, her voice cuts through the dark.

“Sophie. Where have you been?”

She can’t see me yet, but she knows I’m here. Her tone is sharp enough to slice skin. I close my eyes and exhale, rearranging my face into something neutral before stepping into her line of sight.

She’s planted in the living room, back ramrod straight, arms folded over her chest. It’s her favorite spot in the house, like a throne in a room frozen in time. Floral wallpaper, yellow light, dusty antiques on every surface. My mom calls them heirlooms. I call it clutter.

My father’s not even here. He’s probably in the study, like always. They rarely speak unless something needs fixing or someone’s being blamed.

“I was with Sal,” I say, calm and even. “Time got away from us.”

Her eyes narrow. “I told you to come straight home. You never listen, and I’m sick and tired of your inability to follow rules.” Her voice rises, heat creeping into her cheeks. “I can smell the weed from here. Give me your phone. You’re grounded.”

I place it on the table and walk to my room without another word. No fight, no yelling match. I'm just done. I already know what’s going to happen.

She’ll leave it there for me in an hour, like she always does. We’ll pretend this didn’t happen. Like always. She never apologizes, never admits fault. Just resets and expects me to do the same.

I’ve learned not to poke the bear. Not because I’m afraid, but because it’s pointless. Her anger doesn’t change things, doesn't help either of us, it just exhausts us both.

I close the door to my room and toe off my shoes, collapsing onto my bed. I don’t cry. I don’t scream. I just let the quiet soak into my skin.

And I remind myself, again, that in four months, I’ll be free.