Page 43 of Muse (The Forbidden Hearts #1)

SOPHIE

S al loops her arm through mine as I approach the gymnasium doors.

The late morning sun is hot on my skin, beating down through a sky so blue it almost feels insulting.

It’s graduation day. I’ve made it. The cheap polyester gown clings awkwardly to my body, sticking in the humidity, and the cap feels too tight against my scalp, like it’s trying to squeeze me to death.

I’m supposed to be happy. I should be.

But underneath the fake smile on my face lies a quiet, aching hollowness I can’t seem to shake. It hums beneath my ribs, a low vibration of loss that no amount of celebration can drown out.

I’m trying, though. I really am.

Sal pulls me to a stop just before we enter, her grip firm and steadying me. She turns to face me, her perfectly molded curls bouncing slightly with the movement. “You ready?”

I nod, swallowing hard, trying to force down the lump rising in my throat.

“I am. We did it.” My voice is thin. I try to fill it with enthusiasm, to rise to the occasion.

But all I can think is that he should be here.

That today should be something we shared.

That I should’ve seen him watching from the crowd, pride in his eyes.

But he’s not. He left. So I have to make the most of it.

My family is here somewhere, packed into the crowded bleachers of the gym, fanning themselves with the programs they were handed at the door.

No dinner plans, no party waiting afterward.

But they showed up, and I guess that counts for something.

My sister is probably grinning like an idiot, shouting my name, waving like crazy.

And Sal... Sal is here, linking arms with me, grounding me. So what more could I ask for?

We step into the gym, the smell of the waxed floors and body heat hanging in the air.

Folding chairs line the floor in rigid rows, every seat filled with jittery students.

The buzz of conversation crackles like static electricity, and the sound system whines faintly before the ceremony starts.

Sal and I find our seats, the metal cold through the fabric of my dress.

The speeches begin. A student I barely know talks about legacy , and the principal stumbles through clichés about our “bright and sunny” futures, but I barely hear a word.

I spend most of the time scanning the crowd, eyes flitting across unfamiliar faces, searching for one I already know won’t be there.

But hope is a tricky and mean-spirited thing. It blooms in my chest anyway, pressing sharply against my ribs. A bone-deep ache that won't go away.

They start announcing the honors students, calling out accolades with bursts of applause from the packed bleachers. I clap along, but I shrink into myself, heat creeping up my neck. That’s not me and never was, though I’m sure my parents wish differently.

Then it’s time. They call the first row to stand.

One by one, we rise. My stomach twists tighter with every step closer to the stage.

I keep my eyes on my shoes, black Converse, worn down over time, like they might guide me safely across without tripping.

My palms are slick with sweat and my heart hammers behind my ribs, my pulse echoing loudly in my ears.

When my name is called, I force a deep breath into my lungs and step forward.

I paste on a smile that doesn’t reflect my insides and stride across the stage with fake confidence infused into every step.

The principal’s hand is dry, and too firm, his grip jerking me forward as I take the diploma folder.

The flash of a camera stings my eyes. I smile wide anyway.

Then I’m walking back. One foot in front of the other, back to my seat. Back to quiet.

Sal crosses next. I cheer like an idiot for her, clapping hard enough my hands sting.

She owns the stage, strutting like it’s hers, chin high and glowing.

Her family erupts in cheers, whistles bouncing off the gym walls.

My own family claps politely, and I pretend not to notice the difference. I love it for her. I do.

But as the last of the students walk across the stage, something in the air shifts. The hair on the back of my neck prickles, standing on end.

I feel it before I see it, that strange sensation of being watched. I whip my head around, my eyes scanning the back of the gym just in time to catch a tall figure turning toward the exit.

No way.

But it looked like him. The set of his shoulders and the way he moved.

My breath catches in my throat. My legs twitch with the urge to move, to chase, to find out. But I can’t. Not here, not now. I’m stuck in this chair, surrounded by too many witnesses, too many expectations.

I sit frozen, staring at the doors long after they’ve closed behind him.

The gym erupts around me. Cheers, laughter, a sea of grinning faces and caps already being tugged off heads. I smile as best I can. I'm grateful to be done. I am.

But I feel like I’m watching it all from behind a pane of glass. The world is distant and unreachable.

My heart isn’t here.

It’s somewhere else, tucked away in the pocket of a man who walked away, carrying pieces of me I may never get back.

Sal convinces me to go home with her after the ceremony, even though all I want is to crawl under my sheets and disappear.

She promises me it will be a laid-back night.

Jace is having a few friends over, nothing crazy.

I’m not convinced, but I’m trying. Trying to pull myself out of the darkness that’s swallowed me whole. So I say yes.

The second I collapse onto her bed, she dives in after me, wrapping her arms around me and squeezing tight like she’s trying to glue my broken pieces back together.

“I’ve missed you,” she says softly.

“I’ve missed you too,” I breathe. “Sorry I’ve been MIA. I just… I don’t know. Most days I can’t even get out of bed. I want to be happy, but I just… can’t.”

She hugs me tighter, her hand rubbing slow circles on my back. “I’m so sorry, Soph. I wish I could make it better. I could kill rat-face Theo for leaving like that though. Seriously. No goodbye? Coward move.”

A startled laugh bursts out of me. A real one. The first since... he left me. “Rat-face Theo?” I snort.

“Yup. His new nickname. I'm considering merch.”

I smile genuinely, and I love her even more for it. “You’re the best, you know that?”

She smiles back at me. “That’s why I get to boss you around tonight. I’ve let you wallow long enough. You're going to have fun. Not optional.”

I groan and throw my arm over my face. “Fine. But only because it’s you. ”

“Yay!” she squeals. “Let’s get ready. Maybe some of Jace’s hot friends will be here.”

“Uh, no thanks. All men are officially on my shit list.”

She rolls her eyes. “You know what they say?—”

“Don’t.”

“—best way to get over someone is?—”

“Sal.”

“Fine, fine,” she laughs. “No hookups. But at least dress cute, if only for the confidence boost.”

We shed our graduation clothes and change. I reach for my usual oversized comfort tee, but her glare stops me cold. I sigh and swap it for a cropped one instead.

She pulls on leather pants that look criminally tight, but once she wriggles into them, they look incredible. I’m not sure how she can breathe in them, though. She tops it with a strappy pink crop that clings to her like it was made for her, accentuating her in all the right places.

“You look amazing,” I say as she spins to check herself out in the floor-length mirror.

“You sure?”

“One hundred percent. You’re hot. Period.”

She flushes a little and tugs at the hem of her top. “Thanks.”

“Got your eye on someone?” I ask, teasing.

“No,” she says quickly. A little too quickly.

I smirk, but let it drop. She thinks I don’t notice, but I do.

Her phone buzzes, and she lights up like someone flipped a switch. “They’re here.”

I grin. “You look like a Disney princess about to greet her woodland creatures.”

She throws a pillow at me. “Shut up. Let’s go.”

Downstairs, the basement is already alive with music and voices. Jace’s bandmates are sprawled across the sectional, drinks in hand. A curvy brunette has made herself comfortable in Jace’s lap, twirling a strand of hair around her finger while laughing obnoxiously at something he said.

“Hey guys!” Sal chirps, syrupy sweet. Her voice is cheerful, but I hear the steel underneath. I glance at her, taking note of her stiff shoulders, her jaw tensed tight. She’s staring daggers at the girl in Jace’s lap.

I nudge her gently. “You good?”

“Totally,” she lies, flashing me a brittle smile.

We drop onto a giant beanbag across the room. Sal sits so close our thighs press together, her hand balled in the blanket between us. She doesn’t say a word about Jace, and I don’t push, but I can tell every bit of her attention is locked onto him.

“Beer?” Luke asks, holding one out toward me.

My stomach clenches. I shake my head a little too fast. “No, thanks.”

The last time I drank was the night everything changed. The night Theo found me, held me, carried me to safety. To his house. I hadn’t thought of that moment in awhile, but now the memory crashes over me. The sadness begins to creep back in.

Sal sees the change in me instantly. She bumps my arm, “Smoke?”

“Yes, please.”

“Jace!” she calls, hand extended.

He doesn’t even look, just sighs and tosses her a sleek black case from the arm of the couch. She catches it one-handed, pops it open, and pulls out a joint like she’s done this a hundred times. Which, knowing Sal, she probably has.

She lights it slowly, her lips parting as she takes a deep, drawn-out drag. Her eyes stay fixed on Jace the entire time. He doesn’t return the look, but the way he shifts in his seat makes it clear that he feels it. Feels her eyes on him.

She passes it to me, and I breathe it in. The tension in my chest loosens. I feel the fog creeping in around the edges of my thoughts, softening everything. My grief doesn’t disappear, but it dulls. It quiets, for a moment at least.

Not long after, a guy I don’t recognize, tall and scruffy, with a smirk that says he knows he’s cute, makes his way over and drops into the beanbag beside Sal.

“You always hang out down here with the rock stars, or just on special occasions?” He asks her, tone low and smooth, a smirk playing on his lips.

She tilts her head, flashing him a flirtatious smile. “Depends. You a rockstar too?”

“Nah,” he says with a grin. “More of a solo act.”

“Mmm, mysterious. I like that,” she says, leaning in towards him, her voice dropping low.

I side-eye her. Seriously?

Across the room, Jace stiffens. The girl on his lap keeps laughing, but his eyes are locked on Sal. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move, but his eyes sharpen on her, a fire blazing inside their blue depths.

Sal notices and dials up the charm.

She laughs louder, touches the guy’s arm, twirls her hair. Classic moves, all for show. Her attention isn’t on him, it’s on Jace. She’s watching him from the corner of her eye, testing how far she can push.

I nudge her under the blanket. “You’re awful,” I whisper.

Her lips twitch. “I know.”

The poor guy doesn’t even realize he’s a prop in her game.

Jace downs the rest of his beer in one long drink and tosses the bottle onto the coffee table with a loud clink. He doesn’t look our way again, but he doesn’t need to. The tension rolling off him is obvious.

It’s a game.

And they’re both playing.

The night rolls on, the basement buzzing with music, chatter, and chaos. The guys wrestle over the pool table rules, someone tries to beatbox and fails miserably, and for the first time in weeks, I let myself laugh. Like really laugh.

For a little while, I forget to be sad.

Eventually the lights dim and someone queues up a movie no one’s going to pay attention to. I end up curled between Sal and Luke on the couch, a warm blanket thrown over our legs. My head rests against Sal’s shoulder, and she threads her fingers through my hair as I drift off to sleep.