Page 22 of The Heart Breaker

Most people here are into abstract stuff, but realism has always been my thing. I like how exact it is, how one tiny change can throw the whole expression off. Too much shadow, and she looks angry instead of hurt. Too little, and she looks flat. But when it clicks, when a face finally looks real enough to breathe, there’s nothing better.

The first time I went to a museum, I was eight, and I stood in front of one painting for so long my mom finally had to come pull me away. I don’t remember the title, but I still remember the painting. It was of a woman in a dark green silk dressstanding at the top of a staircase, one hand on the banister. The light caught the edge of her collarbone and one pearl earring, and the whole thing looked so real I remember wanting to touch the canvas just to prove it wasn’t.

Ever since then, I’ve known I wanted to evoke the same emotions.

“What’s it called?”

I blink and glance over my shoulder.

Professor May is standing behind me, sleeves shoved up to her elbows, tattooed arms crossed over her chest.

She tips her chin toward the canvas. “Every great piece needs a name. Especially one as beautifully emotional as this.”

I look back at the painting and swallow, my eyes drifting over the woman staring out the window, her eyes fixed on the little girl with her hands tangled in her father’s hair as he carries her on his shoulders.

“I… don’t know yet,” I admit.

She hums and steps closer, studying it in silence for a moment.

“This is really good,” she says, her hand landing on my shoulder, giving it a quick squeeze. “I love what you did with the reflection. She’s facing the window, but we still get everything she’s feeling.” She nods, giving me a smile. “Really nice work, Aurora.”

“Thanks,” I mumble, dragging the end of the brush across my palm.

She tilts her head slightly, studying the painting again before glancing at me. “Have you thought of submitting it for the showcase?”

My brows shoot up. “I… don’t know,” I tell her.

She presses her lips together, examining me. “I think you should,” she says. “Worst case, it doesn’t get picked—though Ireally doubt that will happen. Best case, you make people feel something with this piece.”

My gaze drifts back to the canvas, my stomach fluttering at the idea of someone actually looking at it, relating to it.

“I’ll think about it,” I tell her.

Professor May smiles. “Good. Do that. Then submit it anyway.”

A laugh slips out of me as she heads across the studio.

A chair scrapes against the floor, pulling my attention away from the canvas just in time to see Jake swing a leg over the chair backward and drop into it, his arms folding over the backrest.

His brows lift, the corner of his mouth tugging into a smirk. “Miss me?”

I roll my eyes because class wouldn’t be complete without him planting himself in my space and annoying me. Jake Harper has way too much energy, and somehow his hair still looks stupidly good even though it’s almost three in the afternoon.

“Not even a little,” I murmur, turning my attention back to my painting.

He laughs under his breath, drumming his fingers against the back of the chair. “Thought you looked like you could use a distraction.”

“You thought wrong.”

“Ouch.” He presses a hand to his chest. “And here I was thinking we had something special.”

I lift my eyes to his. “Jake, you’ve flirted with half the girls in this class.”

His lips lift into a grin. “That’s because I was waiting for you to be single.” He leans back in the chair. “And now that you are…”

My brush stills on the canvas, because this isn’t the first time since breaking up with Chase that I’ve been hit on. Apparently getting publicly cheated on means every guy on campus thinks there’s an opening now. Like I didn’t already humiliate myself enough in that hallway. I can still see the way everyone stared at me, the way their eyes went straight to the broken bottle in my hand. Two weeks later and people still haven’t shut up about it.

“If you heard what happened, then why are you over here?” I glance at him, my mouth flattening. “Pretty sure everyone’s already decided I’ve gone full psycho.”