Penelope hadn't expected Scott Rivers to be anything more than a charming detour — the kind of guy who flirts in metaphors and disappears before he starts to matter.
But now, he was showing up.
Everywhere.
First it was art class. Then lunch. Then somehow, he ended up joining the poetry club Callie dragged her to on Thursdays. And when Penelope bumped into him in the library — aisle 900s, sketchbooks and art history — he looked up from a book and said:
"I was hoping I'd run into you here."
She arched an eyebrow. "You hoping, or you stalking?"
"Can't it be both?"
She rolled her eyes, but… smiled.Scott wasn't just funny. He was quick, observant. He quoted obscure painters. He remembered things. Little things — like how she always avoided yellow in her paintings because "it's too hopeful," or how she tapped her pencil when she was about to say something important but didn't want to.
And worse — he listened.
Which made it harder to ignore him.
Harder to forget that she had a boyfriend who'd just told the whole school he loved her.
Julian.
Julian, who had started sketching less and brooding more. Who kissed her slower, like he was trying to read between her lips. Who hadn't said a word about Scott… but whose eyes said everything.
That Thursday, in art class, things finally cracked.Scott leaned over during a critique and whispered, "Want to ditch next period? There's an art gallery downtown with an exhibit called 'Lovers and Monsters.' Thought it sounded poetic."
She hesitated. "I can't. I have English."
"You mean you could," he said. "You just won't."
"I mean I have a boyfriend," she said, quieter.
Scott leaned back, smile fading just enough to show the truth beneath it. "Right. Him."
She looked at him. "You don't even know Julian."
"I know the type," he said. "Brooding artist. Draws his feelings. Holds his emotions like glass—pretty until it shatters."
She turned away. "You don't know anything about him."
"Maybe not," Scott said. "But I know you're not smiling when you talk about him anymore."And that… hurt.
Later that day, Julian was waiting for her outside the gates.
He didn't smile. Just held out his sketchbook, opened to a page titled:
> "When the Girl You Love Starts Drawing Someone Else's Eyes."
She stared.
He said nothing.
Penelope didn't speak either. Didn't know what to say.
Because the truth was… she had started sketching Scott.
Not because she wanted to.
Because she couldn't help it.
And now?
She didn't know whose eyesShe didn't know whose eyes were going to break her heart first.