Chapter 95
Rebecca’s POV
The alarm clock was still silent, its digital face showing 5:43 AM, yet I was already wide awake. I’d been staring at the ceiling for at least twenty minutes, my body humming with a mixture of excitement and nervousness that made further sleep impossible. My heart raced every time I thought about walking into that classroom. Today was my first day at City Arts Academy–my first step toward reclaiming a part of myself I’d nearly forgotten existed.
I reached over to the nightstand and picked up the course textbook Dominic had given me. The pages were already. dog–eared from my obsessive reading over the past few days. “Foundations of Modern Design: Theory and Application.” My fingers trembled slightly as they traced the embossed title. I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply, trying to calm the fluttering in my stomach.
“Just breathe,” I whispered to myself, setting the book down and finally slipping out of bed.
The villa felt different this morning–emptier somehow, despite the early hour darkness still clinging to the windows. It had been only several nights since Dominic left for Los Angeles, but I found myself reaching for his presence, expecting to feel his warmth beside me. The intensity of my longing surprised me. How quickly I’d grown accustomed to him, to us.
Standing before my closet, I deliberated longer than necessary over what to wear, pulling out and rejecting outfit after outfit. First impressions mattered, especially in an arts program where everyone would likely be younger and more naturally stylish than me. The thought made my shoulders tense. I finally settled on dark jeans, a cream- colored blouse, and a structured jacket that managed to look both professional and creative.
“You can do this,” I told my reflection as I applied a touch of mascara and lip gloss.
By 7:30, I was seated at my small kitchen table, course schedule pulled up on my phone, triple–checking the details. Tuesday, 9:00 AM, Room 104, Professor Adrian Lane. My throat tightened each time I read his name. What would he be like? Would he see right through me? What would the other students think of me, a 25–year–old beginner among what were likely to be college–aged design prodigies?
I’d barely touched my toast and coffee when I realized I should leave early to find the classroom. My stomach twisted too much to eat anyway. Better to be awkwardly early than mortifyingly late.
The City Arts Academy campus was more complex than I’d anticipated. Gothic architecture blended with modern glass additions, creating a labyrinth of hallways and courtyards that seemed designed to confuse newcomers. I’d been wandering for fifteen minutes, growing increasingly anxious as I checked my phone repeatedly. My palms were sweating despite the cool morning air.
“Room 104, Building C,” I muttered, squinting at the campus map on my screen. Just as I zoomed in to better see the layout, my phone screen flickered once and went black.
“No, no, no!” I frantically pressed the power button, my heart rate spiking. The dead battery icon flashed briefly
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Chapter 95
before disappearing altogether. “Perfect timing,” I groaned, shoving the useless device into my bag, my hands now
trembling visibly.
The clock on a nearby wall showed 8:47. I quickened my pace, scanning building signs for any indication of where Building C might be.
I hurried forward, turning a corner too quickly and stepping directly into a shallow puddle I hadn’t noticed. Water splashed upward, soaking my ankle and–to my absolute horror–spraying across the legs and coat of a man who had just emerged from the adjacent building.
“Oh my God!” I gasped, my hand flying to my mouth as I watched in dismay as muddy water droplets clung to what was clearly an expensive deep blue suit coat. My face burned with embarrassment. “I’m so sorry!”
The man looked down at his splattered garment, then up at me. His eyes were piercing, intense in a way that made me freeze in place. I braced myself for anger, for the cutting remark that surely would follow. Instead, his lips curved into a wry smile, something flickering behind his eyes that made my heart skip.
“Looks like someone decided to offer me a free dry cleaning service today,” he said, his voice smooth and unexpectedly good–humored.
“I’m so sorry,” I repeated, frantically digging through my bag for tissues, dropping my keys in the process. My fingers felt clumsy and uncooperative. “I was rushing because I’m lost, and my phone died, and I need to find Room 104 in Building C, and now I’ve ruined your coat, which looks really expensive, and-”
“Breathe,” he interrupted, his smile widening as he watched me ramble. His eyes tracked my movements with unnerving focus. He was tall, with dark hair swept back from a face that was all angles and intensity, somehow both severe and handsome at once. Something about his presence made the air feel different–heavier, charged.
“Let me help,” I insisted, pulling out a pack of tissues and awkwardly attempting to dab at the water spots on his
coat. “I feel terrible.”
He glanced down at my efforts with an arched eyebrow, watching me with an expression I couldn’t quite read. “Let me guess. Art Foundations course?”
I paused my frantic dabbing and looked up, meeting his gaze directly. My breath caught slightly at the intensity I found there. “Yes, how did you-
“For a college student, aren’t you running a bit late?” he asked, his head tilting slightly as he studied me, eyes scanning my face with unsettling thoroughness. “In both time and age, I mean.”
My hands froze on his coat. The comment stung, hitting directly at my insecurity. I felt heat rise to my cheeks and my throat tighten, but instead of shrinking away, something inside me pushed back. I straightened, meeting his gaze directly, my embarrassment giving way to indignation.
‘Aren’t your questions a bit rude?” I countered, surprised by my own boldness. My heart pounded so loudly I was sure he could hear it. “Or is this just how the Art Academy welcomes new students?”
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Chapter 96
