Penelope couldn't stop thinking about the kiss.
It wasn't just that it happened—it was how it felt. Like something that had always been there finally stepped into the light. Not rushed. Not dramatic. Just… right.
But right didn't mean easy.
The next day at school, everything felt louder. Brighter. More complicated. The hallway buzzed with conversations that didn't matter, teachers called her name like nothing had changed, but Penelope was holding a secret like glass in her chest.
She hadn't told Veronica or Callie.
Not yet.
They would ask too many questions. And she didn't have the answers. Not about where this was going. Not about what Julian was to her now.In between classes, she ducked into the art wing. It was quiet there—safe.
And Julian was there too, bent over a canvas with headphones in. Charcoal smudges on his hands. Focused, until he looked up and saw her.
The smile that spread across his face wasn't big. But it was real.
"You're here," he said.
"I needed quiet."
He nodded, sliding over on the bench so she could sit.
"I didn't think you'd come today," he added. "After last night."
Penelope tilted her head. "Why not?"
He hesitated. "Sometimes people change their minds in the morning."
She looked at him, steady. "I don't."
A breath passed between them.
Julian handed her a piece of paper. A sketch—just finished. It was her, from memory. Hair loose, head tilted, eyes looking away like she was lost in thought.
But the details—her hands, the shape of her mouth, the curve of her shoulders—they told a different story.
He'd seen her. All of her.
And that terrified her in a way nothing else had.
But it also made her stay.
Because in that hallway filled with noise, Julian was the only echo that felt like