Art Of War

I didn't sleep last night.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw him.

Standing in my room. Watching me like he was holding onto a secret. Like he wanted to say something but couldn't. His eyes God, those stupid, dark, unreadable eyes burned into my brain.

How dare he waltz back into my life and call a truce? Like we're even? Like I don't deserve an explanation?

It's the audacity for me.

I shake the thoughts away. This is my last year. The last thing I need is Brian West taking up space in my head. He already took enough when he left, wrecking me in ways I refuse to admit.

Not anymore. I'm making up for lost time.

I throw on a pair of jeans and a blue long-sleeve V-neck, grab my bag, and head out.

"Have fun, kid!" Mom calls from the kitchen.

Fun. Right. More like war.

I meet Adria before school. She's already running toward me.

"Are you okay?" she asks, scanning me like I'm a crime scene.

I sigh. "Yes."

She narrows her eyes. "You sure?

"OMG, yes." I roll my eyes, laughing.

"So, what happened?"

I spill everything. The kitchen. The truce. The fact that Brian's acting like nothing ever happened.

Adria's jaw drops. "Woah. That's a lot."

"I know.

"And crazy."

"I know."

She shakes her head. "You can't just disappear and walk back into someone's life like that."

"Exactly. And the worst part? He wants a fresh start."

She scoffs. "A fresh start?!"

"Yeah. He's forgiven, but that's all. I just want him as far away from me as possible. This is my senior year. I don't need this."

Adria nods. "Agreed. We still have to complete our list."

"Exactly."

We made a list of things to do before graduation. Some fun. Some illegal. All worth it.

"Don't let him get to you," Adria warns.

"I won't." I take a deep breath. "Everything is the same."

We share a look.

Yeah. That's a lie.

Adria changes topic telling me about a guy she met in the store and how his new here, a transfer student, and how they hit it off instantly and how his perfect with his blond hair.

"You like him" I say snapping her out of trance

"No I don't, his a great guy that's all" she says defensively

"Okay, you don't have to be so defensive about it" I say smiling

She rolls her eyes

As soon as we step into school, Adria freezes.

"That's him," she whispers, pretending to be fascinated by my locker.

"Who?"

"Nate. Nine o'clock."

I turn and immediately regret it.

My body goes stiff.

Because standing next to Adria's mystery guy… is Brian.

His eyes meet mine. Sharp. Knowing. Unreadable.

Oh, hell no

"What?" Adria asks, confused.

I swallow hard. "The guy next to him."

She grins. "I know, right? He's tall, mysterious, and dreamy."

I glare at her.

"What?" She shrugs. "Just stating facts."

I look back. His gaze is still locked on me, and suddenly, my locker is the most interesting thing in the world.

"Follow me," I mumble, dragging Adria to the storage room.

The second we're inside, she raises a brow. "What's your deal?"

I cross my arms. "The guy next to him? That's Brian."

Her mouth drops open. "Are you sure? Because, damn, he is"

"Stop it." I immediately cut her off

She smirks. "I'm just saying, bad-boy glow-ups hit different."

I groan. "Whose side are you on?!"

"Yours, obviously," she laughs. "But for real, what do you want me to do? If they're friends"

"Then they're friends. Whatever." I exhale. "I don't want you to stop seeing Nate because of me. You like him, right?"

She hesitates.

"Then go for it. Brian's not worth it."

"You sure?

"What's the worst that could happen?

Art class is a disaster

The second I walk in, I freeze.

Brian is already there. Sitting. Waiting. Tapping his phone like he's bored out of his mind.

Adria calls my name, telling me to sit next to her, but I barely hear her.

Because Brian looks up

And this time, he smirks.

A slow, knowing, cocky smirk that sends my pulse into overdrive.

I want to punch him. Or throw something at his head.

Instead, I force my feet forward and slide into my seat, ignoring the way my skin tingles.

I can still feel him beside me. Relaxed. Unbothered. Like sitting in my orbit isn't a big deal. Like he doesn't know exactly what he's doing.

The teacher starts talking, but it's white noise.

And then his voice, low and smooth, cuts through my thoughts.

"You always this jumpy, Blue?"

I freeze.

No. No, no, no. We are NOT doing this.

I grip my paintbrush tighter and don't turn around. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

He chuckles, slow and knowing. "Sure you don't."

I inhale sharply, patience hanging by a thread. "Don't talk to me."

"Can't help it."

"Try harder."

Another deep, amused chuckle. "Thought we had a truce?"

I snap my head to the side, finally looking at him. He looks… entertained. His lips twitching, dark eyes full of something I don't have the energy to decode.

"Truces require trust," I say. "And I don't trust you."

His smirk fades. Just a fraction. "Fair."

I blink, surprised he didn't push back. But before I can process it, he leans in just slightly, voice dropping low enough that only I can hear.

"But you still think about me, don't you?"

I go completely still.

The audacity. The ego. The fact that he's right.

I turn back around, ignoring the burn in my cheeks.

Brian chuckles again, like he knows he won this round.

I hate him

I hate that he's back.

I hate that he still gets under my skin like this.

But most of all I hate that I don't actually hate him at all.

The teacher pairs us up for an assignment.

"Paint something that shows passion. Burning love," she says.

I almost faint when I hear my name paired with Brian's.

"What?!" I accidentally shout.

The class turns to look at me.

The teacher raises a brow. "Something wrong?"

"No. Nothing. It's fine."

Across the room, Ivy scoffs. "Lucky you."

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Ivy's never liked me. Never missed an opportunity to jab at me. One time, she "accidentally" spilled food all over my favorite sweater. A lie, obviously.

And now, she's suddenly interested in Brian.

Funny. She never cared about him before.

When class ends, I wait for everyone to leave before going up to the teacher.

"Mrs. Kim, can I talk to you?"

"Of course. What's wrong?"

I shift on my feet. "You paired me up with Brian."

"Yes, I did."

"Well… you can't."

Her eyes narrow. "Why not?"

"Because… he's Brian."

She gives me a knowing look. "I'm afraid I don't see the problem."

"We don't work well together. It's a disaster."

"Then this will be a great opportunity to learn."

I exhale. "Can you switch him, please?"

"I'm sorry, Leah. But no."

I groan. "Thank you, Mrs. Kim."

"You're welcome."

I step into the hallway.

"Blue."

I walk faster.

"Blue."

A hand grabs my wrist, spinning me around.

I gasp and snap my hand back.

Brian steps in front of me, blocking my path.

"Move."

"Just wait." He exhales, running a hand down his face. "I know I don't deserve your forgiveness. I know you probably want me dead. But… can we at least not make this weird?"

I glare up at him.

"This is weird, Brian," I say. "And it's gonna stay that way."

Then, I smirk.

"Just sit back and let me do the assignment. That way, you won't be such a pain."

He tilts his head, watching me.

Then

"No."

I blink. "What?"

"No," he repeats. "I want to be involved. Besides…"

He smirks.

"I love painting."

Brian steps in front of me, blocking my path.

"Move."

"Just wait." He exhales, running a hand down his face. "I know I don't deserve your forgiveness. I know you probably want me dead. But… can we at least not make this weird?"

I scoff. "Not make this weird? You disappeared, Brian."

His jaw tightens. "I know."

"You left without a word. No calls. No texts. Nothing."

"I know."

"And now you think you can just come back and pretend it never happened?"

His lips press together. "No. That's not what I"

"This is weird, Brian," I cut him off. "And it's gonna stay that way."

I smirk. "Let's just get through this assignment. I'll do the work, you sit there and do nothing shouldn't be too hard for you."

I expect him to fire back. To smirk. To say something cocky.

But instead

He steps closer. Close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off him. Close enough that I have to tilt my chin up to meet his gaze.

My breath catches.

He notices.

His lips twitch, but his eyes darken. "No."

I blink. "What?"

"No," he repeats. "I'm doing this assignment. I'm not just sitting back."

I cross my arms. "And why's that?"

His smirk returns, slow and lethal. "Because I'm good at painting."

I roll my eyes. "Please. Since when?"

A flicker of something something unreadable crosses his face. Then, in one smooth motion, he lifts his hand

And brushes a thumb over the inside of my wrist.

It's so fast I don't register it until my entire arm burns.

I jerk back. "What the hell?"

His voice drops lower, like a secret mean't just for me.

"You still flinch when I get too close."

I freeze.

Because he's right.

I hate that my pulse races.

I hate that my first instinct isn't to slap him.

I hate that, for a split second, I don't want to move away.

I clench my fists. "Stay. Away. From me."

His smirk deepens.

And then he tilts his head, studying me like I'm something entertaining.

"So… where do we start?" His voice is lazy, teasing. "Your place or mine?"

I stare at him, deadpan. "Are you serious?"

His smirk grows. "Dead serious, Blue. It's a passion project, after all."

I open my mouth, ready to tell him exactly where to shove his passion.

But before I can, he takes a step back, shooting me one last smirk and says

"See you soon, blue"

And walks away.

Leaving me standing there. Fuming. Heart pounding.

And the worst part?

I still feel where he touched me.