The Unwanted Spotlight

Walking into my very first classroom by Declan’s side feels agonizingly identical to walking into my father and brother’s funeral. Every single eye in the room snaps to me the second we enter. The stares are heavy, oppressive, and dripping with silent judgment. I remember this exact feeling. The sudden twist in my gut, the bitter taste of bile rising in the back of my throat, the deafening pound of my heart echoing in my ears. As we step over the threshold, Declan keeps his heavy arm slung casually over my shoulder. It is a bold, claiming gesture that makes the entire room zero in on us. The students stop paying attention to the whiteboard. They stare at me like I grew a second head. A sharp, mocking whistle cuts through the quiet air, signaling everyone's shock at the sight of us together.

Our entrance abruptly halts at the front row. Mr. Burke stands near his desk, holding a piece of chalk. He possesses a stern, unyielding demeanor that instantly puts me on edge. He stops teaching and raises a thick eyebrow, dragging his dark gaze up and down our forms with clear disapproval.

"Declan," Mr. Burke says flatly, his voice carrying across the silent room. "You are late."

Declan doesn't flinch. He clicks his tongue against his teeth and shoots the teacher a cheeky, unbothered wink. "I have a pass from the office."

Mr. Burke plucks the yellow slip from Declan's extended fingers. He scans it for a brief second and slaps it onto his desk. "Take your seat."

Declan shifts his weight. He drops his arm from my shoulder, his rough fingertips trailing deliberately down my skin before he gives my waist a firm squeeze. "I'll save a seat for you," he murmurs near my ear.

I watch him saunter away, leaving me exposed under Mr. Burke's intense scrutiny.

"Where is your pass?" the teacher asks.

Heat rushes to my cheeks. "I don't have one."

He crosses his arms over his chest. "You are late."

"I know, but..." I swallow the lump in my throat, trying to block out the harsh whispers echoing from the rows of desks. "I'm new."

Mr. Burke narrows his eyes. "I know who you are. That does not excuse your tardiness. I will write you up for detention."

The words hit me like a physical slap. Humiliation floods my system, burning my face. I am brand-new, and I am already getting punished while the guy who dragged me here escapes without a scratch.

"Take a seat so you do not delay my class any longer," Mr. Burke orders.

I drop my chin, avoiding his dark, unyielding stare. I keep my eyes glued to the scuffed linoleum floor and make a desperate retreat toward the back of the room. I just want to hide. I scan the rows for an empty desk in a dark corner.

Before I can find a safe spot, a strong arm bands around my waist. The grip is firm. Declan physically pulls me down into the empty chair directly adjacent to his. He drags my desk until the metal legs screech and smack right against his own, reclaiming his space by slinging his arm over my shoulder once again.

I let out a shaky breath. "Thank you."

Declan pulls back, but instead of returning to his own space, he lowers his hand to rest right on my bare thigh. He gives the soft flesh a reassuring squeeze. "They will eat you alive in here," he whispers, flashing his signature smirk as he leans in close. "But if you stick with me, I can soften the blow."

I find myself involuntarily leaning into that unexpected physical comfort. I hunker down in my seat, trying to focus on Mr. Burke's lecture while desperately schooling my facial expressions into a mask of neutrality. It is nearly impossible. I am acutely, hyper-aware of Declan's hand resting heavily on my leg. He doesn't move it away. Instead, his thumb begins slowly drawing sensual circles on my bare skin. The rough friction sends a sharp jolt of heat straight from the pit of my stomach all the way down to my toes. I glance down, noting the distinct callouses on his fingers, the thick veins straining against his skin, and the silver ring circling his thumb. They are physical proof of his esteemed status as a star basketball player. I force my gaze back to the front, fighting the dangerous urge to let him keep touching me.

The agonizing period finally ends, and the day progresses. Our next class is Science, taught by the significantly friendlier Mrs. Gaines. She sits at her desk chewing on gummy worms, a stark contrast to Mr. Burke's rigid discipline. True to his word, Declan follows me. He parks his towering frame right beside me yet again. He ignores the assignment on his desk, propping his elbow on top of his paper and leaning his head against his hand to stare at me.

"Where are you from?" he asks casually.

I pause my writing. "Georgia."

He whistles low. "That is a long move to Arizona. Why did you leave?"

The innocent question hits me like a physical blow. My mind hijacks the present moment, throwing me backward. I am instantly sucked into the darkest depths of my trauma. The sterile classroom walls dissolve around me. My senses are assaulted. The phantom, choking smell of gasoline fills my lungs, burning my airways. The sharp, metallic tang of blood coats my tongue. My vision swims, replaced by the vivid horror of crushed metal and shattered glass surrounding my family. The burning sensation returns to my hands, making them tremble.

Panic seizes my chest, tightening like a vice. I fiercely rub my thumb over the jagged scar on my wrist, using the rough friction to anchor myself in reality. I press down hard, blinking rapidly to banish the waking nightmare and return to the present. The classroom slowly comes back into focus.

"Just, things," I offer in a vague, evasive tone.

Declan narrows his amber eyes. He acutely catches sight of my frantic movements and the ugly scar on my wrist. I quickly shove my hand under the desk to hide it. He studies my face for a long, heavy second. Mercifully, he chooses not to pry into the obvious trauma.

Mrs. Gaines stands up from her desk and claps her hands. "Alright, everyone. I have a sign-up sheet here for you all. Please sign you and your partner’s name for the semester-end science fair project. It will heavily dictate your final grade."

Declan immediately stands up with a huff. "I will sign us up," he declares loudly to the room.

My heart slams against my ribs at the single word. Us.

He effortlessly slides his large hands into the front pockets of his jeans and winks at me. "Partner."

I watch him stroll toward the front desk, stopping to joke around with a group of guys. His laugh echoes across the room. It is warm, deep, and incredibly infectious. A terrifying realization washes over me as I watch him smile. It would be dangerously easy to fall for his charm. I physically shiver, strictly warning myself not to get attached to him. I just got here.

"Hey, new girl."

A whiny, condescending voice shatters my internal conflict. I look up to find a blonde girl standing right beside my desk. She has cold, calculating hazel eyes that sweep over me like I am trash on the bottom of her shoe. Her arms are crossed tightly over her chest, and she stares down at me with unfiltered disdain. When I don't respond right away, she arches a perfect eyebrow.

"Do not fall for his charm," she issues a blunt warning, leaning slightly closer. "He never actually follows through."

I glance across the room at Declan, who is still distracted by his conversation with the other guys. I look back at the girl's hostile face.

"I won't," I lie right through my teeth, keeping my voice steady.

The girl sneers. She flips her blonde hair over her shoulder with a dramatic toss before strutting away. Just as she leaves, the bell rings loudly overhead. It signals my immediate escape. I hastily grab my bag, shoving my belongings inside, and rush toward the door, desperate for distance.

Declan easily catches up to me in the hallway, his long strides eating up the space between us.

"Hey," he calls out, matching my pace. "I won't see you until tomorrow."

I give a curt nod, keeping my eyes fixed straight ahead.

He slows down slightly, his tone shifting into something softer, a confused frown creasing his brow. "You okay?"

I need to protect myself from whatever game he is playing, and whatever warning that blonde girl just delivered.

"Perfect," I state flatly.

I ignore his reaction. I forcefully separate myself from his side, turning sharply down the corridor and walking away in the exact opposite direction.