Chapter 4
1457words
"She's not your trophy." Leo's voice was soft, but every word cut like a blade.
"She's not your secret either." Ryder sneered. "You think hiding her makes her yours?"
The tension between them nearly tore the air apart. Just as I was about to step forward to stop them, Leo suddenly turned and looked straight at me.
In that instant, my heart stopped.
He knows.
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This wasn't paranoid speculation, but ice-cold certainty.
Leo Vance knows my secret.
I don't know how he discovered it—which moment, which breath, which careless glance revealed the truth. But he knew.
I could feel it in the way he looked at me.
Before, his gaze was cold, like examining an unfamiliar but somewhat interesting painting. Now, his gaze was a surgical knife—precise, sharp, as if it could peel away my skin and muscles down to bone, seeing clearly my real face hidden under perfect makeup—that pockmarked face with braces.
During chemistry class, he'd suddenly turn his head, his gaze falling on the side of my neck where foundation met skin—the place where I spent the most effort ensuring a seamless transition each day.
When I browsed special effects makeup books about Dick Smith and Tom Savini in the library, he'd sit at the table across from me, pretending to read while his eyes peered over the pages at the book titles beside my hand.
The most devastating incident was when my bag's zipper wasn't fully closed, revealing a corner of my treasured Kryolan professional special effects makeup palette. I caught him glancing at it, his gaze lingering for just a millisecond.
That millisecond felt like a century.
His knowledge far exceeded ordinary people's, and I had no doubt he knew what it was. This wasn't glamorous Sephora makeup—it was a tool from another world, a world of creating monsters and illusions.
From that day on, I lived in constant fear of public execution. I checked my makeup more frequently, used more setting spray, its citrus-sandalwood fragrance becoming my second skin.
Ironically, this fragrance became another clue pointing to me.
Then came Savannah Pierce's annual "End-of-Season Pool Party"—a celebration at the top of Mountain View High's social pyramid, showcasing perfect bodies and fake friendships.
I didn't want to go. Water was my nemesis, the greatest threat to my carefully constructed illusion.
But Ryder Kang invited me in front of everyone during lunch, saying his band would do an unplugged performance at the party, with the first song "dedicated to my new muse."
His gaze burned into me, filled with irresistible charm.
I felt Leo's icy gaze from another table. To go or not to go had become about taking sides. I was caught in the middle with nowhere to escape.
So I went, wearing a long-sleeved cover-up that could never touch water, and makeup thicker and more waterproof than usual. I stood by the pool like an outsider, watching teens in bikinis radiating hormones, feeling separated from them by an entire universe.
"Jules! You came!" Savannah glided to my side like a hostess, her smile flawlessly perfect, but her eyes flickered with calculation. "Why are you so covered up? Since you're already here, why not jump in and have some fun?"
The music blasted, the air thick with chlorine, alcohol, and barbecue smoke. Ryder was at the other end of the pool, surrounded by admirers. He raised his glass to me with a sexy smile.
Just as I was about to make up an excuse to slip away, one of Savannah's followers, a girl named Tiffany, suddenly "accidentally" bumped into me.
Her objective was clear—to push me into the pool.
Time seemed to slow. I saw the mischievous smile of success on her face, smelled the sharp chlorine from the pool, and my heart instantly jumped into my throat.
It's over.
Everything is over.
Just as I lost my balance and was about to fall backward, a hand like an iron clamp suddenly grabbed my arm.
The strength was astonishing, forcefully pulling me back from the edge, and with the momentum, I crashed headfirst into a hard, cold chest.
The surrounding noise seemed to vanish instantly.
I looked up and met Leo Vance's eyes.
His face showed no expression, but in those eyes churned emotions I'd never seen before, almost savage in nature. He wasn't looking at me, but staring intently at the girl who had tried to push me in.
Tiffany's smile froze, her face turning pale from the killing intent in his eyes.
"Get lost."
Leo only said two words. His voice wasn't loud, but it cut like an ice blade through the party noise.
People around us quieted down, watching this scene with shock written all over their faces. Leo Vance, known for being cold and aloof, was showing such an aggressive side in front of everyone for the first time.
He didn't give anyone time to react. Still gripping my arm tightly, he practically dragged me through the dumbfounded crowd, away from the noisy poolside.
His palm was scorching hot, his grip so strong my wrist ached. I stumbled after him, unable to utter a single word.
He didn't lead me toward the parking lot, but headed straight for the school gymnasium. The party music faded, replaced by our hurried, chaotic footsteps echoing in the empty hallway.
He kicked open the men's locker room door with one foot.
A loud "bang" reverberated through the silent corridor.
He yanked me inside, then closed the door behind us, instantly shutting out the world.
The locker room was dark, with only faint moonlight filtering through high windows, outlining his tense silhouette. The cold scent of sweat mixed with disinfectant hung in the air.
He finally released my wrist, but his next move was to roughly pin me against the cold metal lockers.
"Clang——"
My back hit the cabinet door with a loud bang. He placed both hands on either side of me, completely trapping me between himself and the locker.
We were too close.
Close enough that I could smell his clean scent, a mix of party smoke and his unique soap fragrance. Close enough that I could clearly see the storm of anger in his deep eyes. Close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his chest as it rose and fell with rapid breaths.
My heart was beating like it wanted to escape through my throat.
"Why?" he finally spoke, his voice terribly hoarse, as if suppressing something with great effort.
"Why what?" I was still playing dumb, my voice trembling slightly from nervousness.
"This." His finger, gently and almost with cruel tenderness, touched my cheek.
My body instantly froze.
That was where I carefully covered the worst area of my acne. Through thick foundation and concealer, his fingertip seemed to carry a scorching temperature, threatening to burn through all my disguises.
"This face," his voice grew even lower, almost pressed against my ear, "why do you wear it?"
Our breaths intertwined, his warm breath on my ear sending shivers down my spine. The air around us seemed to vanish, the ambiguous and dangerous tension between us pulled taut like a drawn bow.
I looked into his eyes just inches away, where there was anger, confusion, and a trace of something I couldn't understand... pain.
I couldn't answer. How could I tell him that beneath this fake face was such an insecure, ugly soul? How could I tell him that I'd rather be a false illusion than face the world's cruelty as my true self?
My silence seemed to exhaust his last bit of patience.
His face moved a few inches closer to mine. Our noses were almost touching, and if he'd lowered his head just an inch more, our lips would have met.
I could feel the warmth of his breath, could see my own panicked face reflected in his pupils.
My heart completely stopped beating.
I thought he was going to kiss me, or yell at me. But he didn't.
He maintained that distance, almost like a kiss, his gaze burning into mine, and warned me in a voice that seemed to come from the depths of hell, enunciating each word:
"Stay away from Ryder."
In that moment, there was no anger, no questioning, only raw, undeniable possession.
I was about to respond when my phone suddenly vibrated.
It was a group message from the school: "The confirmed list for the Music Festival trip is now available, please check."
I opened the attachment and saw two familiar names: Leo Vance, Ryder Kang.
The three of us would be spending three whole days together in the desert.
