Chapter 48: Chapter Forty Seven

Athena

As the car rolled to a stop in front of the school, my hands trembled slightly. Dylan stepped out, walked around, and opened the back door for me. I hesitated for a moment before grabbing my backpack and sliding out.

My heart pounded like a bass drum in my chest, making me clutch the strap of my backpack tightly. Dylan shut the door, but I remained frozen in place. When I looked up at him, I caught a flicker of concern in his eyes—so fleeting that I wasn’t sure if I had imagined it.

"I’ll be here to pick you up at exactly three, Miss," Dylan informed me.

"Um... Okay. Thank you, Dylan," I said, forcing a small smile.

He gave a slight bow before getting back into the driver's seat. The car door shut with a decisive click, the engine hummed to life, and within seconds, he was gone. I watched until the vehicle disappeared through the main gates, then turned to face the towering building before me.

Taking a deep breath, I exhaled sharply through my nose, squared my shoulders, and climbed the stairs.

The moment I stepped into the school hallway, whispers erupted around me. Eyes followed my every move—some filled with curiosity, others with barely concealed pity, and a few with open disdain. I gripped my backpack strap tighter and lowered my gaze, pushing through the crowd toward my locker, my heartbeat hammering against my ribs.

“Athena, hey! How are you?”

I glanced up to see Lydia, a girl from my history class, offering a hesitant smile. There was concern laced in her voice.

“I’m fine,” I replied, giving a polite nod before focusing on my locker, pretending to be absorbed in the combination lock.

I couldn’t deny my surprise. Lydia and I had known each other since middle school. Like me, she had been adopted into wealth, but unlike me, her adoptive parents loved her. We weren’t enemies, but we had never been friends either.

She lingered as if debating whether to say more, but the tension between us was thick. “Well, um, it’s good to see you back.” Without waiting for a response, she walked away, leaving behind a swirl of emotions I wasn’t ready to unpack.

Taking a deep breath, I grabbed my books and slammed my locker shut with more force than necessary. I wasn’t in the mood for sympathy or awkward small talk.

As I turned to head toward my next class before the first bell rang for classes to start, more hushed conversations buzzed around me, followed by occasional glances in my direction. It was suffocating.

The hallway buzzed with the usual chaos—lockers banging shut, hurried chatter, the occasional burst of laughter piercing through the noise. It was the usual hum of a new school day.

I briefly wondered where Eros was. But as soon as the thought crossed my mind, another followed.

Even if I saw him, would I wave like a friend?

Would he even acknowledge me?

Maybe he was just being nice to me over the weekend because he knew how alone I was. After all, I was homeless, penniless, and utterly hopeless—just a girl to be pitied. Yeah, that had to be it. Pity, nothing more. 

Because why would someone as gorgeous and wealthy as Eros Belmonte want anything to do with a nobody like me?

Then—silence. The kind so sharp you could hear a pin drop. It started like a ripple. One conversation faltered, then another. Heads turned. Eyes widened. A few mouths hung open. Gasps echoed through the corridor.

I barely noticed at first, too focused on stuffing my books into my backpack. But the shift in the air was impossible to ignore.

I felt him before I saw him. The hairs on the back of my neck rose, goosebumps spread across my skin, and the dormant butterflies in my stomach stirred awake. I glanced over my shoulder—and nearly dropped my notebooks.

Every time this happened—the excited whispers, the giggles, or an overly enthusiastic girl shrieking his name—I never stuck around. I’d always told myself it wasn’t my business how he looked. But after realizing I had a huge crush on Eros Belmonte, well… those days of indifference were long gone.

Eros had just walked in.

Except this wasn’t the same Eros who strolled through these halls every day. He looked different.

Gone were the longer, unruly curls that had given him that effortlessly mysterious look. His hair was now cut into a curly undercut—the sides neatly trimmed, the top still full but styled just enough to look intentional without being overly polished. The new cut framed his already sharp features, making his presence even harder to ignore.

A girl let out an audible gasp. “No way.”

“Is that Eros?” a boy asked.

“Damn…” someone else murmured.

“Holy—he looks like he walked straight off a magazine cover,” a girl practically purred.

“This is actually unfair,” another boy muttered, though there was no malice in his tone.

I couldn’t help but wonder the same thing. When had he gotten the haircut? Was it after he left me at the hotel? He looked so good it should be illegal. My throat suddenly went dry. I couldn’t even swallow.

Eros, completely unfazed, strolled down the hallway like he hadn’t just sent the entire student body into a collective shutdown. Hands in his pockets, expression unreadable—except for the hint of amusement flickering in his eyes.

Then, he stopped directly in front of me.

“Morning,” he greeted, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “You’re staring.”

I snapped out of it, shoving my books into my bag a little too forcefully. “So is everyone else,” I shot back, barely able to process that he was actually talking to me—not brushing me off, not pretending I didn’t exist. 

It sent a rush of elation through me, but I was also painfully aware of the looks we were getting. Now I was under even more scrutiny.

He smirked. “Guess they’ve never seen a haircut before.”

I scoffed. “Not on you.” Then, narrowing my eyes, I added, “You planned this.”

One corner of his mouth lifted. “Planned what?”

I gestured vaguely around us. “The moment. The audience.”

Eros gave an infuriatingly casual shrug. “Can’t help it if people notice.”

I folded my arms, refusing to let my gaze linger on him for too long. “It’s just a haircut.”

“Is it?” His voice dropped slightly, his smirk deepening.

My pulse jumped. I hated that. To be honest, I liked it.

“Don’t be so smug,” I muttered, turning away.

He chuckled. “Too late.” Then, cutting right in front of me, he tilted his head slightly. “Do you like it?”

I rolled my eyes, waving a dismissive hand. “It’s alright.”

“Just alright?” He arched a skeptical brow.

A group of girls giggled nearby, whispering furiously. Eros ignored them, his attention fixed solely on me.

I sighed, refusing to let him win. “Fine. It looks good.”

His smirk deepened. “Knew you’d say that.”

I let out a shocked gasp. “So why did you ask if you already knew?”

“What’s the fun in assuming?” He leaned in slightly, his lips curling into a mischievous smile. “Even though I already knew the answer.”

“You’re insufferable,” I muttered, poking his chest.

Eros threw his head back and let out a loud, throaty laugh.

For a moment, the hallway froze. Everyone—including me—stared in shock. I’d drawn chuckles from him before, smirks and amused huffs, but never this. Never the kind of laughter that made his shoulders shake—never a full, unguarded laugh. His hand wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.

“Ah, I needed that,” he sighed, still grinning. Then, stepping back, he shot me a knowing look. “See you in trig, chaparro.”

And with that, he walked away—leaving behind a school full of stunned stares and one very flustered, very irritated me. I couldn’t believe he had the audacity to call me short when he knew full well I wasn’t. I was tempted to shout my height after him, but he had already disappeared around the corner.

I decided to save my argument for later. Not that it mattered—we probably wouldn’t see each other again today anyway. Between soccer, basketball, and tutoring, the infuriating boy seemed to do everything.

I stood there, heart pounding, wondering when exactly he had become so dangerous.

\~~~~

I pushed open the doors to the gymnasium, grateful for the distraction P.E. would provide. The scent of polished wood and faint sweat greeted me as I walked across the floor, my sneakers squeaking slightly. I was about to head toward the bleachers when a voice called out to me.

“Athena.”

I turned and saw Mr. Damon Nielsen, the P.E. teacher, standing near the equipment rack. His usual stern expression was replaced with something unreadable. He motioned me over.

“Yes, sir?” I asked, stopping a few feet away from him, my fingers clenching tightly and biting into my palms.

“I just wanted to check in on you,” Mr. Nielsen said, his sharp blue eyes studying me intently. “It must be difficult coming back after everything.”

I stiffened, the words settling uncomfortably in my chest. “I’m managing,” I said carefully, offering a small smile. “Thank you for asking.”

His gaze lingered a moment too long, making me shift uncomfortably. “If you ever need anything,” he said, his voice measured, “you can always talk to me. My door is always open.”

“Thanks, Mr. Nielsen,” I said quickly, eager to end the conversation. I turned to walk away, but his voice stopped me.

“You look different.”

I hesitated, glancing back at him. “I—uh—just a little tired, I guess.”

“Right,” he said, nodding slowly. “Well, take care, Athena.”

I gave a brief nod before walking away, my heartbeat picking up. Something about the way he had looked at me unsettled me, though I couldn’t pinpoint why. His concern had seemed genuine, yet there was something in his gaze—something calculating, something that sent a faint chill down my spine.

Shaking off the feeling, I joined the other students by the bleachers, my skin prickling as if unseen eyes were still watching me. As much as I wanted to ignore it, I couldn’t shake the eerie sensation that Mr. Nielsen’s attention lingered far longer than it should have.

I forced myself to focus as the class started, but the uneasy feeling clung to me like a shadow, refusing to fade.