Page 9 of Muse (The Forbidden Hearts #1)

SOPHIE

B y lunchtime, I’m practically bouncing with excitement. I’m dying to tell Sal about my exchange with Mr. Hayes. Sal is the only person who’s ever truly supported my art. Not because she gets it… she doesn’t. But because she gets me .

There’s a difference, though. Between loving something for someone’s sake and actually understanding the deeper meaning behind what they do and admiring it. That’s why it felt different today, with him. I felt seen.

We meet in our usual spot, an old, wooden bench that’s seen better days in the school courtyard.

The wood creaks under us like it might give out at any moment.

Above us, bare bradford pear tree branches stretch towards the sky.

In spring when it blooms, the smell is enough to drive us away, but in winter, this place is ours.

Sal digs into her navy blue tote, a bag so worn it might as well have tenure at this school, and pulls out a stash of snacks.

My stomach grumbles a thank you in reply.

“Feast, my friend,” she says, tossing me a bag of my favorite spicy chips.

Her mom calls her tote her “emotional support bag,” and honestly, she might be onto something there.

We inhale our chips, the crunch filling the silence between us, before I finally explode.

“So, you’ll never guess what happened today.” I look at her with wide eyes, anxious to spill. “The drawing I told you I was doing for Mr. Hayes? He loved it.”

I pause for dramatic effect. “And—not only that—he offered to show it to a friend. Who owns a gallery. In the city.”

Sal’s eyes go wide. “Babe, that’s huge! I knew he liked you.”

I groan. “Oh my god! That’s not—ugh. Sal!” I stick my tongue out at her, teasing her right back.

“Fine, fine,” she says, her hands up in surrender. “But admit it. There are still feelings there, right? I see the way you look at him…” She leans in close, her voice softer now.

I nod my head. “Yeah. And I know that’s totally insane to say about a teacher, but… I don’t know. It's just different with him. I know it was only one night, but the way we connected is something else entirely.”

Leaning into my side, she makes a kissy face at me before turning serious. “I love that for you. And I don’t think it’s crazy. Sometimes we find solace in strange places.”

I quirk a brow, and look around the courtyard. “Is that a quote from somewhere? Where did my best friend go?”

She sighs dramatically. “Uh… I can be deep, you know.” Then she smirks. “But yeah, that was a quote.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “Alright, Ms. Philosopher. Enough about my love life. If we’re still going to that party this weekend, I need something to wear. Shopping date?”

“Yes! I’d say let’s ditch and go now, but I have a test fifth period. Meet me after the last bell, though. I know a boutique that has the cutest stuff.”

“Deal!” I say, crumpling my now empty chip bag. “I just had a few babysitting jobs, so I’ve got money to burn. ”

After school, Sal and I head for some much needed retail therapy. We pull up to the boutique and I immediately groan. In the window, shapely mannequins pose in dresses that can barely be called clothing. I roll my eyes.

“Oh, hell no.” I say, crossing my arms. “I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing any of that!”

Sal’s already cackling. “Oh, come on, you grandma! I’m sure we can find something to fit your old-lady taste. If not, there are plenty of other stores nearby.”

Grumbling, I put the car in park and hop out, locking it once Sal does the same. “Fine. I knew I shouldn’t have let you pick.”

Sal, as usual, takes charge the moment we enter the store. The air is thick with the overwhelming clash of competing perfumes. She marches up and down the aisles, yanking dresses, skirts, and tops from the racks and piling them into my arms until I’m more fabric than human.

I pull a dress from the pile and nearly choke. It’s completely sheer and would barely cover my ass, let alone anything else.

“No fucking way!” I shriek, shoving it back at her. “You’ve officially lost your damn mind.”

She rolls her eyes and snatches it from my grasp, replacing it with something slightly less scandalous. “Relax. That one is for me. THIS is for you.”

I squint at it. “Hate to break it to you, but it’s not much better.”

She gives me a look. One that says shut up and try it on.

Sighing, I relent and strip down to my panties before attempting to squeeze into the silky scraps of fabric. It’s tight, but not in a bad way. The slit over my thigh is daring, but not obscene.

I turn towards the mirror, taking in my reflection. “Okay, okay. You might actually be onto something here. ”

She grins, gloating already. “Well, duh! Why must you always doubt my expertise?”

“I’ll give you this one.” I admit, turning to see the back. It does, in fact, cover my ass. Barely. “But what in the actual hell are you wearing?!”

We burst into laughter, tears in our eyes from the lack of oxygen. Her dress, if you can even call it that, is lime green and made of a stretchy material that screams ‘80s workout video.

“Yeah, no.” She peels it from her body and tosses it onto the floor before grabbing another. “That one is a crime.”

Ever the rule follower, I pick up the discarded dress and put it back on the hanger. Retail workers don’t get paid enough to deal with our mess.

Sal finally settles on a maroon body con that hugs her slim figure beautifully, and we head to checkout.

The girl behind the counter goes to our school too. She’s one of the popular girls, belonging to a social club for which I’ll never get an invitation. Not that I’d want one. She barely glances in my direction, and I doubt she even knows my name. It’s not surprising, I mostly keep to myself.

Whatever. It doesn’t matter.

I drop Sal at her car, and promise to text her later. Time to head home.