The next day followed the same pattern. Vince got to school early, slipping quietly into the art room to catch Vanessa before anyone else did.
She looked up when he entered—just for a moment—then returned her focus to the piece she was working on. She spoke a little more than yesterday, but her eyes stayed locked on her brush strokes.
At lunch, Vince found himself sitting beside her again. It wasn't planned—it just happened. Natural. Quiet. Comfortable.
Across the room, Karina stared like she was about to throw something. Darian didn't bother hiding his annoyance either. Only Dale, sitting a few spots down, seemed entertained by the whole thing. He smirked, elbowing Vince later with a comment about how fast girls could scramble the whole friend group dynamic.
But not everything was smooth.
That afternoon, Vince sat at the back of the school, his usual spot, enjoying a rare moment of peace and his favorite banana milk. He tilted his head back against the wall, eyes half closed.
Then came footsteps—soft, deliberate. He didn't have to look.
"Tsk. Now my milk tastes like shit," Vince muttered, eyeing Darian as he approached.
Darian dropped down beside him, arms crossed.
"Stay away from Vanessa. She's too good for some spoiled rich kid like you."
Vince scoffed.
"Right. And she's better off with a player who cheats on every girl he touches?"
Darian didn't flinch.
"I'll admit it—I'm not perfect. Probably not even good enough for her. But that doesn't mean I'm giving up."
"And you think I will?" Vince shot back. "Vanessa deserves someone who actually sees her. Just her. Not as a trophy. Not as a backup."
Darian leaned forward slightly.
"You really think your family's gonna accept her? She doesn't come from money, Vince. That shit matters in your world."
Vince stared him down.
"You don't know anything about my family."
A bitter smile tugged at Darian's lips.
"You really willing to start something again? Like back then—with Karina?"
Vince's jaw tensed.
"You started that fight. I finished it. And here we are again—but this time, it's about someone who actually matters."
Darian stood up, brushing imaginary dust off his jeans. His voice dropped.
"You'll never understand her like I do, you who got everything will never understand us."
He turned and walked off without another word.
"This bastard... mumbling crap" Vince muttered under his breath, watching him disappear around the corner.
From a distance, just around the corner of the school building, Vanessa had paused. She was on her way to her next class when she caught sight of Vince and Darian talking—tense body language, sharp gestures. She couldn't hear the words, but the vibe was unmistakable. She stood there for a moment longer than she meant to, then quietly walked away.
⸻
After school, they were back in their usual place—the art room.
Vanessa sat at her easel, calm and focused, brush in hand, layers of color blooming beneath her touch. Vince had pulled up a stool beside her, sketchbook open in front of him. It was his first real attempt at drawing, and it showed—uneven lines, awkward shapes—but he didn't care. He liked being there, in that silence with her.
The minutes passed quietly, broken only by the sound of pencils, paintbrushes, and the occasional shift of a chair.
Then, without looking away from her canvas, Vanessa spoke.
"What did you and Darian talk about?"
Vince blinked, caught off guard.
"Wait... you saw us?" He glanced at her, trying to read her expression, but she kept her eyes on her painting.
"Well, it was about you. Obviously."
A beat passed.
"Did he tell you to stay away from me?" she asked, her voice even but edged with something harder.
Vince straightened up.
"Wait—how did you...?"
Vanessa dipped her brush into a darker shade, still not looking at him.
"He's... persistent. If he does anything, let me handle it."
Vince looked at her for a long second. Then a slow, teasing smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
"So, you're saying I shouldn't fight your battles?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
She finally turned to glance at him, her expression cool but not unkind.
"I'm saying I don't need you to."
"So... are you gonna protect me now?" Vince asked with a cheeky smirk, leaning slightly toward her.
"Never mind," she muttered, brushing him off with a wave.
"Walking you home counts as protecting me, doesn't it?" he pushed, still grinning.
She sighed, setting her brush down for a moment.
"Are you really twisting my words just to walk me home? You're relentless."
"Of course I am," he said, without missing a beat. "Especially when it's about the girl I like."
That made her pause. She glanced at him again, expression unreadable.
"Do you say that to every girl?"
Vince leaned back on the stool, shrugging casually.
"Nope. Just one."
She rolled her eyes, but there was the faintest hint of color in her cheeks.
"You're annoying."
He chuckled, watching her expression shift between trying to stay composed.
Their quiet moment together didn't last long.
The door creaked open, and in walked Mr. Nguyen, the art teacher. He scanned the room, his gaze landing on Vanessa's canvas.
"Still using the art room after hours, huh?" he said, walking in and eyeing her work with a faint nod of approval.
Then he turned—and stopped short when he saw Vince.
"Wait... you?" His eyes narrowed. "What the hell are you doing here?"
Vince flashed a small, guilty smirk.
"Hey, Teach. Long time no see."
Mr. Nguyen crossed his arms.
"Long time? You've skipped my class twenty times this semester alone!" He stormed across the room.
"That's it. Let's go!"
Before Vince could react, the teacher grabbed him by the ear.
"Ow—wait! Teach! Come on!" Vince protested, squirming, but Mr. Nguyen was already hauling him toward the hallway.
Vanessa sat frozen, brush in hand, watching the chaos unfold. Vince glanced back at her as he was dragged out, tossing her a helpless look.
She blinked.
This troublesome boy... really was something else.