The afternoon sun slanted through the windows of the third-floor art studio, bathing the room in warm gold. The scent of graphite, acrylics, and linseed oil clung to the air like a second skin.
Ava Queen sat cross-legged in front of her easel, a charcoal pencil in her hand and her sketchpad balanced on her knee. Around her, the soft hum of focused students filled the space — pencils scratching, paintbrushes tapping water jars, someone humming faintly near the back.
This was her sanctuary.
Here, no one cared about last names or family empires. No one whispered about Monica Queen. No one looked at her like she was supposed to be anything other than herself.
She leaned in closer to her sketch. It was coming together now — a pair of hands, one reaching out, the other pulling away. She loved playing with emotional contrasts. Connection and distance. Trust and betrayal. It always made sense on the page, even when it didn't in real life.
The classroom door creaked open.
Ava barely looked up. Probably just someone late.
But then she felt it.
A shift in the room. A presence.
She glanced toward the door — and her stomach gave a strange, unsteady twist.
It was him.
The guy from the sidewalk.
Black boots. Black t-shirt. Same unreadable expression. His sharp gaze swept the room, landing on her for half a second — enough to make her fingers tighten around the pencil — before moving on.
He didn't approach. Just spoke quietly to the professor at the front.
Ava turned her focus back to her drawing, heart tapping against her ribs.
What was he doing here?
---
✦ ✦ ✦
Across the Room — Nathan Cross's POV
Nathan hadn't expected her to be here — not in this class, not so soon. But part of his training was learning how to blend in. How to observe without leaving ripples.
So when his fabricated student schedule placed him in a general studio arts elective as a cover, he didn't argue.
And now, here she was.
Not Avery.
Ava.
Sitting near the window, wrapped in soft, gray tones, charcoal smudges on her fingers. She looked delicate. Quiet. Careful. Her sketch was dark and raw — hands touching but not touching.
He watched her from the corner of his eye as he took a seat across the room.
If this girl really was Avery Queen — Monica's hidden sister — then this mission had just gotten a hell of a lot more complicated.
---
Back to Ava
She could feel him back there — whoever he was — and it made her skin prickle. She didn't even know his name. He hadn't offered it. Hadn't spoken a word.
But he'd looked at her like he saw through something.
And she hated how that made her feel.
The professor called for the session to end. Brushes down. Pencils capped. Everyone packed up in that lazy, post-class shuffle.
Ava stayed seated a little longer, giving the crowd time to thin out before she left.
When she finally stood and turned — he was gone.
---
Later That Evening — Ava's Apartment
Ava had barely unlocked the front door when she heard the familiar voice inside.
"Surprise, bitch!"
Ava jumped, yelping slightly as her best friend popped out from behind the kitchen counter, holding a bag of takeout and a crooked smile.
"Lena!" Ava clutched her chest. "You can't just— How did you even get in here?"
Lena Hart, the hurricane in human form, grinned and waved a spare key Ava had given her months ago. "You gave this to me in case of emergencies, and girl, your life counts."
Ava blinked. "What?"
Lena dropped the bag onto the counter. "You live in this gorgeous-ass apartment all alone, you go to class, draw sad hands, avoid boys like they're diseased, and then come home and eat frozen grapes for dinner."
Ava crossed her arms. "I like frozen grapes."
"You're a beautiful, mysterious heiress pretending not to exist, and it's tragic." Lena shrugged off her jacket. "So I've decided. I'm moving in."
Ava's jaw dropped. "You're joking."
"Nope. Packed up my dorm room this morning. This place is huge, and I know you hate being alone. I'm doing you a favor."
Ava stared at her, speechless — but not entirely against it.
She had to admit, the thought of coming home to someone like Lena — loud, loyal, full of life — didn't sound so bad.
"Fine," Ava muttered. "But if you steal my fuzzy socks, I'll kill you."
Lena beamed. "Deal."
As they sat down with takeout and banter, Ava felt something shift inside her. For the first time in a long time… things felt a little less lonely.
But she couldn't shake the memory of those dark eyes from class.
Watching.
Waiting.
---