Got it! Here's Chapter 8 of "I Accidentally Drew a Harem"
Title: "BrusheThe art contest was over, but its effects lingered in the halls of Ravenhill High.
For most students, it had just been another school event. But for Eli, it left behind a strange mixture of relief and quiet pressure. He had lost officially, sure—but people kept talking about his piece. Softly, curiously. Girls from other classes peeked into 2B more often. A few even left notes in his locker.
One of them had hearts on it.
Jay held that note up like he'd found treasure. "This is it, man. You're a legend now. Do you realize what you've done?"
Eli groaned and pulled his hood over his head. "Put that away."
"I'm not putting anything away! You've got a full-blown fan club starting."
"That's not a good thing."
Jay tilted his head. "Depends on your definition of good. Personally, I think we're just getting started."
Eli ignored him and slipped into his seat.
Lila was already sitting nearby, drawing small pastries in the corner of her notebook.
She glanced at Eli, then looked down quickly. "You did really well," she said softly.
"Thanks."
Lila hesitated. "I cried a little. When I saw your sketch."
Eli blinked. "Really?"
She nodded, brushing hair behind her ear. "It felt… real. Like it was talking."
He didn't know what to say to that, so he just smiled.
Brooke clapped him on the back as she passed. "I'm just mad you didn't draw me next."
Eli turned red. "I—it's not that I didn't want to ..."
Brooke grinned. "Relax. I'm just teasing. But if you're taking requests, I'm first."
"Weren't you the one who said I had too many girls around me already?"
"Exactly. I want to secure my spot early."
Lila gave a tiny giggle. Brooke winked.
Eli stared down at his desk.
That afternoon, the weather shifted. A soft breeze moved through the courtyard, hinting at a coming storm. Clouds rolled over the sun, casting a grayish tone across the sky.
He liked days like this. Quiet. Moody. Good for drawing.
He sat behind the school library during lunch, sketchpad open, the wind teasing the pages.
A shadow fell across the page.
He looked up.
Emma.
She knelt beside him without a word and opened a book—some heavy literature thing he wouldn't dare pronounce.
They sat in silence for a while.
Then she spoke.
"Do you want to know what I liked about your drawing?"
Eli glanced at her. "Sure."
Emma traced a finger along the page of her book. "It didn't show everything. Just enough to feel something. Like a sentence that leaves out the last word but still makes you cry."
Eli looked at her fully now. She didn't meet his eyes.
She was always careful with her words. Always composed.
But not now.
"Sometimes," she continued, "I wish I could be drawn like that. Not for the attention. Just… to be seen."
He didn't know what to say.
So he said the only thing he could.
"I see you."
She looked up sharply.
And for a brief second, her expression cracked. Not in a bad way. Like something hidden was finally stepping into the light.
Then she nodded, closed her book, and stood. "Let me know when you want to start."
She walked off without another word.
Eli stared at the sketchbook in his lap, heart pounding.
Later, he bumped into Ethan near the third-floor stairwell.
It wasn't planned. Eli had just been heading to drop off a supply box at the art room. Ethan had been walking from the opposite side.
They stopped.
Ethan glanced at the box, then at Eli.
"So they've got you doing errands now too?"
Eli sighed. "Just helping out."
"You're getting a lot of attention."
Eli shrugged.
Ethan's tone shifted. "You don't deserve it."
Eli blinked. "What?"
"You lost," Ethan said flatly. "But now everyone's acting like you're some genius."
"I didn't ask for that."
"You didn't have to." Ethan's voice sharpened. "Girls following you, the teachers praising your 'emotion' like that's more important than skill. It's pathetic."
Eli took a breath. "I didn't know this was a competition about who could get more attention."
"It is now."
Then Ethan bumped his shoulder as he walked past.
The box slipped slightly from Eli's arms.
He clenched his jaw and kept walking.
After school, Mia found him sitting by the soccer field bleachers, quietly sketching as the sun dipped behind the trees.
She sat beside him, close but not too close.
"I saw what happened with Ethan," she said.
Eli didn't reply.
Mia looked down. "He's wrong, you know."
"I'm used to people not liking me."
"He doesn't hate you. He envies you."
Eli laughed once, but there wasn't humor in it. "Why would anyone envy me?"
Mia turned toward him. "Because people look at your art and feel something. Because you don't hide your heart."
Eli stayed silent.
Then Mia held out a folded paper.
He took it.
It was a sketch. Of him. Sitting exactly like he was now, looking lost in thought.
"You drew me?"
Mia nodded. "I wanted to remember how you look when you think no one's watching."
He stared at the lines.
It wasn't perfect.
But it was honest.
"Thank you," he said.
She smiled gently. "I hope someday I can draw you like you draw us."
Then she stood and walked off, leaving Eli holding a version of himself he didn't recognize—but kind of wanted to.
The next day, a new name appeared on the classroom seating chart.
Haley Greene.
Transferred from another school in the city. Long blond hair, glasses, tall. Confident walk. Not a single wrinkle in her uniform.
She introduced herself with a smile and a voice that said she was already used to being watched.
Jay practically fell out of his chair.
"Hi," she said to the class, "I'm Haley. I like digital art and animation. If anyone here draws, we'll probably get along."
Half the class turned to Eli.
Haley followed their eyes, then smiled at him directly.
"Well, that's promising."
Jay whispered, "Oh no. She's already locked on."
Eli sighed and dropped his head onto his desk.
During lunch, Haley sat across from him without asking.
"I hear you're the reason the art club's finally cool again."
"Not sure about that," Eli muttered.
She leaned her chin into her palm. "Can I see your work?"
Eli hesitated, then slid his sketchbook forward. Haley flipped through slowly.
Her brow lifted at some pages, her smile widening at others.
"You've got raw skill," she said. "But you don't plan your strokes."
"I just draw."
"I can tell. That's not a bad thing. But it means you draw with your gut, not your brain."
Eli frowned. "What's wrong with that?"
"Nothing," she said, meeting his eyes. "But it makes you dangerous."
"Dangerous?"
"To people like Ethan."
She stood up and handed back his book.
"I like your vibe, Eli. But just so you know… I'm not here to cheer from the sidelines."
Then she walked off, her long coat swishing behind her like she was stepping out of an anime opening.
Jay looked at him like he'd just been hit by a truck.
"Bro. Did she just declare war?"
"I think that was a compliment."
"No, that was a rival flag."
Eli groaned.
By the end of the week, Eli's name was being whispered in more classrooms.
Rumors about him and Emma. Him and Mia. Him and Lila. Him and Brooke. And now, possibly, Haley.
He didn't want it.
But he was stuck in it.
The girls didn't pull away. They leaned in.
Mia sat closer during study hall.
Lila started baking again and bringing him extras.
Brooke walked with him between classes, teasing more but never straying far.
And Emma?
Emma said less—but her glances grew longer, her questions more thoughtful. Like she was figuring something out about herself.
Eli lay on his bed that weekend, staring at the ceiling.
The sketchbook rested beside him, filled with fragments.
Hands. Eyes. Faces.
Moments.
He was trying to capture something he couldn't name.
Something between love and inspiration.
He opened to a new page.
And started to draw again.