Chapter 4 Sarcasm Or Realism?
Elara’s laugh shattered the tense silence like glass breaking, light and musical, physically pushing back the suffocating atmosphere. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Silas.” She gave his arm a playful tap, though her smile looked slightly strained. “Your sense of humor is going to get you arrested one day, and I’m not bringing you care packages in prison.”
She waved a perfect hand at the stunned people around them, her face warm and knowing. “Can’t any of you tell when someone is being sarcastic? That’s just how he is. He’s completely harmless, I promise.”
The crowd seemed to relax all at once. A few people laughed nervously. The girl took her sip of wine. The storyteller picked up where he’d left off. The moment was over, smoothed away by Elara’s easy charm as if it had never happened.
But Mia couldn’t let it go that easily. The words still echoed in her head, his grey eyes still burned in her memory. Her hands were still cold and shaking.
Elara turned her full attention to Mia, reaching out to take her cold hand and giving it a firm, reassuring squeeze. “I’m so sorry about him. He thinks shocking people is entertainment.” She raised her voice slightly, addressing the nearby crowd. “Everyone, this is my new friend, Mia Torres. She’s a transfer student, and I’ve decided she’s one of us now.”
Her gaze swept the group with that same warm but firm look.“So you’ll all be nice to her. Got it?”
It was less a request and more a command. Several people murmured greetings—“Hey, Mia,” “Welcome,” “Love the dress”—their curiosity shifting from Silas’s disturbing performance to the new girl who’d somehow earned Elara Vance’s immediate and very public protection.
Mia managed a weak smile, nodding at the faces around her, but she couldn’t get the chill out of her bones. She made herself play along. “Thanks for the rescue,” she said to Elara quietly. “That was… intense.”
“You’ll get used to him,” Elara said, though her tone suggested even she wasn’t entirely sure that was true. She steered Mia gently but firmly away from Silas. “It’s a shame you transferred mid-semester, Mia. You missed all the club recruitment fairs. It’s honestly the best way to meet people outside of…” she gestured vaguely at the chaotic party, “…this.”
They stopped near a table covered with elaborate cupcakes that looked too pretty to eat. Elara picked one up, examining its frosting swirls without really seeing them.
“Silas and I are both in the drama club,” she continued. “We’re the leads in the fall play—a modern take on Antigone. I’m Antigone the heroine, and he’s Creon the king. We have our first big practice tomorrow afternoon.” She put the cupcake down and turned to Mia, her face lighting up. “You should come! We’re always looking for new people, even just to help backstage. With props, costumes, lighting—it’s all really fun. Much better than standing around at parties pretending to care about qboring gossips.”
Mia’s mind raced. The drama club. A place where both Elara and, more importantly, Silas would be all the time. A real reason to be near him, to watch him, and look for weaknesses in whatever mask he wore. It was almost too good to be true.
“I’ve never acted before,” she said honestly. Her life had never allowed for extracurriculars beyond survival. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
“That doesn’t matter at all!” Elara said with a smile. “Half of the crew has never performed before. You can help out with props, read lines for anyone who needs practice, or whatever feels right for you. It’s all pretty laid-back.” She took out her phone and continued, “Just meet me at the Black Box Theater tomorrow at four. It’s the modern building behind the library—it looks like a gray box. You won’t miss it.”
This was it. Her way in. A legitimate reason to be around Silas Voss without raising suspicion. “Okay,” Mia agreed, managing a more genuine smile this time. “I’ll be there. Thanks, Elara. Really.”
“Perfect! It’ll be so much fun.” Elara squeezed her arm before being pulled away by another group of friends demanding her attention. “Save me a seat tomorrow!” she called over her shoulder.
Mia found herself suddenly alone in the crowd, surrounded by happy, careless people. She needed a moment to process everything—the gossip, the confrontation, the confession, real or fake. She spotted a vacant loveseat in a slightly quieter corner and made her way there, sinking into the soft cushions.
A few minutes later, Elara reappeared and sat beside her, immediately jumping into a chat with another girl about their mean philosophy professor. Mia nodded and smiled in the right places, but her mind was somewhere else, replaying Silas’s words, the coldness in his eyes, the weight of his accusation.
Then she felt it—a heavy, steady pressure on the side of her face. The unmistakable feeling that someone was staring.
She turned her head slowly, pretending to just look around the room.
Silas was still by the wall, but he was closer now. His cigarette was gone, and his arms were crossed. He wasn’t looking at the party or at Elara. His grey eyes were locked directly on her. There was no smirk, no mockery. Just a cold, studying look, like she was a problem he was working on.
Their eyes met across the crowded room.
Mia’s heart jumped. She knew she should look away, pretend she didn’t see him. But she was frozen. For a few long seconds, neither of them moved. The party kept going, music blasting, people laughing—but it all felt distant, irrelevant.
Then, Silas tilted his head just a little. Something shifted in his face. It wasn’t a smile. It wasn’t a threat. It was something else, something she didn’t understand but felt deep down.
A shiver ran down her spine. She finally looked away, staring hard at the fancy rug under her feet, her heart pounding.
“You okay?” Elara asked, noticing she’d gone quiet.
“Yeah,” Mia said quickly, forcing brightness into her voice. “Just a little overwhelmed. It’s a lot.”
“I know, parties can be exhausting.” Elara patted her knee sympathetically. “But I’m glad you came. Tomorrow will be better, I promise. Much smaller group.”
Mia nodded, but she could still feel it—that weight, that attention. Those grey eyes watching her every move, like she was a mouse and he was a cat deciding what to do next.