𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐈 everyone knows who she is. Worldwide model, covered in many vogue magazines, walked catwalks, and runaway. But people don't know what happens behind the curtains. Despite the many scandals that have plagued her reputation...
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It felt like the signs were there, lurking just beneath the surface, but I couldn't decipher what they were pointing to. There was an undercurrent of tension that I couldn't shake off, a sense that something was brewing just out of sight. But the specifics eluded me, slipping through my grasp like sand.
I woke up to an empty bed, the warmth of Lucas's body replaced by the cool indifference of an early morning chill. It didn't surprise me, though it still stung. His silent retreat was becoming a pattern, one I was beginning to dread. After getting dressed, I made my way back to my dorm to change into my uniform, feeling the weight of what had become our daily routine.
When I arrived in class, he was already there, sitting like he always did, an imposing presence even in his silence. His hair was disheveled, those dark curls tousled as if he hadn't bothered to run a hand through them. His white button-up shirt was buttoned to the very top, and his sleeves were pulled down, hiding the ink I knew lay beneath. His dark trousers hung loosely around his waist as he sat with his legs spread wide, his posture relaxed, but there was an edge to it, like a coiled spring ready to snap. His tie hung loosely around his neck, undone, a careless afterthought.
The girls surrounded him, as they always did, their eyes wide with admiration, their voices a constant murmur of flirtation. They crowded around him, desperate for his attention, vying for even the smallest glance in their direction. But as always, he paid them no mind, his cold, detached demeanor as impenetrable as ever.
When I walked into the room, his eyes snapped toward mine, the stormy blue-gray depths freezing me in place. For a moment, everything else faded away, the noise of the classroom dulling into the background as our gazes locked. The anger I'd been holding onto all morning flared up, and I let it show, my scowl deepening as I approached him.
"Scram," I said to the girls, my voice laced with irritation. They scoffed in response, rolling their eyes and muttering insults under their breath, but they hesitated, waiting for Lucas to intervene on their behalf. "I'm pretty sure she told you guys to scream," He says, and when he does, they reluctantly moved away, shooting me dirty glares before scattering to find other seats. I barely noticed, too focused on the coldness in his eyes, the distance that seemed to grow wider with each passing day.
I sat beside him, the silence between us heavy, almost suffocating. There was so much I wanted to say, so many questions I wanted to ask, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, I settled into the seat next to him, my anger simmering just beneath the surface as I waited for him to make the first move.
But as always, he said nothing.
The tension between us was palpable, hanging in the air like a thick fog. I could feel his presence beside me, the way his body was coiled with a silent, restrained energy. It was infuriating, this constant push and pull, this dance where he kept me at arm's length while still holding me close enough to feel the warmth of his body.
