🎨 Skai's Pov 🎨
It's all I can think about for the entirety of the morning. The fact that I'm someone's girlfriend now. And not just anyone's but Nathan Hayes'. The realization feels so unreal, I had to smack myself while brushing.
Okay, this was real. Very real.
I'm in a fog the whole time I'm getting dressed. I try to remember what shirt I even picked out, what shoes I threw on. Did I brush my hair twice or three times? I can't tell. I barely remember walking to class.
And that thought—that one shimmering, impossible fact—refuses to leave me alone:
I'm his girlfriend.
Or at least... pretending to be. That part doesn't quite dull the rush, though.
I think about it so much, I almost miss roll call "Skai Martin?"
The teacher's voice sounds so far away, I ignore it.
"Miss Skai Martin?" He repeats, louder this time and I am finally jolted out of my reverie.
"Present" I blurt, way too quickly.The class erupts into laughter. My fists clench as my face burns from the familiar embarrassment.
"She's probably daydreaming about lunch again" Someone snickers behind me.
I don't need to turn around to know it's Amber. I had the misfortune of being in about five classes with her and this was one of them.
She's referencing the one time I had slept off during a class, woke up mid-question, panicked and answered with the first thing I'd thought of which unfortunately was my breakfast.
Apparently, she's sworn to never let me live it down. But this time, the usual wave of anger and shame that accompanies her hurtful remarks doesn't hit me and it's with a tiny flicker of surprise I realize why.
This thing with Nathan has me feeling so euphoric, I couldn't care less what she thought. I swipe open my phone and grin at the "Hey girlfriend" text he sent earlier.
Yup. Definitely couldn't care less.
Unfortunately, by the time the last class drags to an end and lunchtime rolls around, that giddy feeling starts to shrink. I Now, all I can feel is my stomach tightening with nerves. I hadn't asked enough questions. Scratch that—I hadn't asked any questions.
And now I had questions. Big ones. Important ones. How was I supposed to act around him? Was he into PDA or not? Was there going to be rules of some sort? Was everyone supposed to know about us? What were the limits of fake?
Images of people finding out and mocking me for it swirl in my head and suddenly the whole fake girlfriend thing doesn't seem so sparkly anymore.
I pull out my phone with shaky fingers and type:
Skai:
We need to talk.
♥~♥~♥~♥~♥
The bell rang, loud and shrill, pulling me out of my thoughts and into the slow shuffle of bodies moving toward the cafeteria. As always, I didn't join them.
I didn't do cafeterias. Didn't do full rooms, crowded tables, fake greetings, or that awful pause people made when deciding whether to say hi to you or not. So, like I ha, I packed my own lunch and went straight to the art studio.
Today's lunch was carefully packed: grilled chicken wraps with spinach and avocado, a sliced apple with almond butter, and a bottle of infused water I'd prepped the night before. If she really wanted to make a change then she had as much a role to play as Nathan did.
The studio had always been more than a room, it was refuge. A place where silence wasn't awkward and no one looked at me long enough to make me shrink. It wasn't just that it kept me out of sight, away from the comments and glances that followed through hallways, it was what I became inside it.
Here, the world blurred out. Here, I didn't have to pretend. Whether my heart felt heavy or light, the canvas never judged. The brush always listened. And by the time the color met canvas, I'd start to feel like myself again.
There were two ways to get to the studio: one went around the block, which meant ten extra minutes of walking in the sun. The other sliced past the cafeteria, separated by a row of floor-to-ceiling windows and one side door. Normally, I took the long way. No brainer. The invisible was usually worth the inconvenience. But today...
I slowed, glancing toward the side path.
I needed to talk to him.
The questions had been buzzing in my head all morning. He deserved answers. No, I deserved them.
But just thinking about walking into that space—his space—where the popular tables were lit up with energy, attention orbiting them like gravity. Where noise and movement swelled together, laughter spiked too high, and there was a storm of faces and motion—students eating, talking, snapping pics for socials—it made my throat tighten.
I clutched my lunch a little tighter. You're not going in. You're just passing by. I replayed the chant in my head like a spell.
I'd sent the text almost ten minutes ago, but there'd been no reply.
What if he hadn't seen it? Or what if he had, and just hadn't thought it mattered?
What if I walked past and he waved me over? Or worse—what if he didn't?
I shake my head deciding to be positive. I just needed to know if he'd seen the text. Maybe he'd step out. Maybe I wouldn't even have to go in.
And with a deep breath, my feet choose the shortcut before my head could veto the idea.
The closer I got, the louder the noise became—muffled laughter, tray clatter, the hum of voices. The windows lining the side of the cafeteria gave me a slanted view inside, where clusters of students sat around circular tables. Some stood, others waved, some scrolled on their phones. I scanned lazily, just enough to be able to say I'd checked.
My breath caught before my steps did and I froze, heart clanging against my ribs like a warning bell.
Because there he was.
Nathan. Leaned back in one of the far tables near the window, one leg stretched out beneath the table, his sleeves pushed up, eyes closed and expression unreadable. He wasn't smiling, but he looked comfortable. Like someone who belonged exactly where he was.
The boy who had asked me to be his girlfriend.
With a girl already draped across him.
Whispering something against his neck.
Kissing his jawline.
Fingers curled in his shirt.
And just as my heart stuttered...
His eyes snapped open.
And found mine.