You Can Have Him
The next day, I don’t see Valentine in class, and I release a sigh of relief. Maybe I won’t have to deal with him today.
But alas… I’m not that lucky.
The library doors swing open, and Valentine strides in, his eyes immediately scanning the room. When his gaze lands on me, hunched over a thick book at my usual table in the corner, a smirk plays on his lips. He takes in my focused expression, completely oblivious to the world around me.
He runs a hand through his tousled hair and saunters across the library, his swagger drawing curious glances from other students. When he reaches my table, he leans against it, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite bookworm,” he drawls, his voice low and teasing.
I tense up, but I keep my eyes fixed on the page before me. His cocky grin widens as he watches me, waiting for a reaction. The silence stretches between us, broken only by the soft rustle of turning pages and distant whispers.
Ugh… he is such a moron.
I look up, meeting Valentine’s intense gaze for a fleeting moment before quickly returning to my book. My heart races, betraying my calm exterior. I take a deep breath, willing myself to focus on the words in front of me, but his presence looms large, impossible to ignore.
“Don’t be rude, Scar,” he teases, his voice dripping with amusement.
My cheeks flush, but I keep my eyes resolutely on my book. Just ignore him, I tell myself. He’ll get bored and go away.
Valentine, however, seems to take my silence as a challenge. He leans in closer, his breath tickling my ear as he whispers, “What’s that you’re reading, anyway? ‘101 Ways to Avoid Eye Contact’?”
Despite myself, I feel a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. I bite my lip, fighting to maintain my composure.
“Oh, come on,” he persists, his tone playful. “Don’t tell me the library’s quietest mouse doesn’t have a sense of humor. Or are you saving all your words for these dusty old books?”
I steel myself, determined not to give him the satisfaction of a response. I flip a page in my book, pretending to be engrossed in its contents. My eyes skim over the words, not really absorbing their meaning.
“Silent treatment, huh?” he chuckles, undeterred. “I like a challenge.”
Just go away, I think, my heart pounding. I can feel the heat of his body as he leans even closer.
“You know,” he murmurs, his lips barely an inch from my ear, “I think you’re the most interesting girl in this whole school. And trust me, I’ve met them all.”
A shiver runs down my spine, and I can’t stop the blush that creeps up my neck and into my cheeks. My breath catches in my throat as his words sink in.
He’s just messing with you, I remind myself, but my body betrays me, goosebumps rising on my arms.
“What do you say we get out of here?” he whispers, his voice low and enticing. “I promise I’m much more fun than whatever’s in that book.”
My mind races. Part of me wants to snap at him, to tell him off and send him away. But another part—a part I barely recognize—is tempted by his offer. I sit frozen, caught between my usual caution and the allure of his attention.
The silence between us stretches, thick with tension. My eyes dart around the library, suddenly aware of the hushed whispers and furtive glances from my classmates. Heat creeps up my neck as I realize we’ve become the center of attention.
“I… I need to study,” I mumble, my voice barely audible. I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, trying to regain my composure.
Valentine straightens up, a smirk playing on his lips. “Alright, bookworm. I’ll leave you to it… for now.” He winks and saunters away, leaving me flustered and breathless.
As soon as he’s out of earshot, the library erupts into a flurry of whispers. I hunched over my book, wishing I could disappear into its pages.
“Did you see that?”
“Valentine never pays attention to girls like her!”
“What’s so special about Scarlet?”
The gossip swirls around me like a suffocating cloud. My cheeks burn, and I grip my pen so tightly my knuckles turn white.
Just ignore them, I think. Focus on your work.
But before I can regain my concentration, a shadow falls across my table. I look up to see Emily, Valentine’s ex-girlfriend, glaring down at me with narrowed eyes.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Emily hisses, her manicured nails digging into the wooden table.
My heart races. “I-I’m just studying,” I stammer, confusion and fear battling inside me.
She leans in closer, her voice dripping with venom. “Don’t play dumb. I saw you with Valentine. What makes you think you can steal him away?”
My mind reels. Steal Valentine? I hadn’t even wanted his attention in the first place. But as I open my mouth to protest, the words catch in my throat.
I take a deep breath, steeling myself against Emily’s accusatory glare. “I’m not stealing anyone,” I say, my voice quiet but firm. “Valentine came over here on his own, and I certainly didn’t ask him to.”
I meet her eyes, willing my voice not to shake. “I have no romantic interest in Valentine whatsoever. He’s not my type, and I want nothing to do with him.”
Emily scoffs, tossing her sleek blonde hair over her shoulder. “Oh, please. As if someone like you wouldn’t jump at the chance to be with Valentine.”
My cheeks flush with indignation, but I hold my ground. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Come on,” she sneers, her eyes raking over my simple sweater and jeans. “You’re probably desperate for any attention you can get.”
My hands clench into fists under the table. Her words sting, but I refuse to let it show.
“I don’t care about him,” I say evenly. “You can have him, Emily. I’m not interested.”
Emily leans in closer, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper. “Listen closely, little miss nobody. Valentine may be slumming it right now, but he’ll get bored of you soon enough. So don’t get any ideas about rising above your status.”
“Like I said,” I reply, my voice low but firm. I meet her gaze steadily. “I don’t care about him, and I don’t need Valentine’s attention to validate me. Unlike some people, I’m focused on my studies and my future.”
Emily’s eyes narrow dangerously. “You—”
“Is there a problem here, ladies?”
The sharp voice of Mrs. Elliot, the librarian, cuts through the tension. Her stern gaze sweeps over both of us, one eyebrow raised in disapproval.
My shoulders sag with relief. I open my mouth to explain, but Emily beats me to it.
“Not at all, Mrs. Elliot,” she says sweetly, her demeanor changing instantly. “We were just having a quiet discussion.”
Mrs. Elliot purses her lips. “Well, I suggest you have your ‘quiet discussions’ elsewhere. This is a library, not a debate club.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I murmur, ducking my head.
As the librarian walks away, Emily shoots me one last venomous glare before stalking off. I slump in my chair, my heart still pounding. I’ve stood up for myself, but the encounter leaves me feeling drained and shaken.
An hour later, I pack up my things, feeling more centered. As I walk home, I allow myself a small smile. I won’t let them define me. My worth isn’t tied to their opinions.
Once I’m home, I pause as I hear music coming from inside. A rendition of “Ode to Joy.”
I enter quietly, not wanting to disturb the lesson. I peek into the living room, where my stepmother Emma sits at the piano beside a young boy with tousled brown hair.
“That’s it, Brent,” Emma encourages gently. “Remember to keep your wrists relaxed.”
I lean against the doorframe, watching as Brent’s small fingers move carefully over the keys. The sight soothes my frayed nerves. I love watching Emma play the piano.
“Oh, Scarlet!” Emma looks up, noticing me. “How was studying?”
I hesitate, then smile. “It was… interesting,” I say, deciding to keep the day’s events to myself for now. “How’s the lesson going?”
