Sofia’s POV

I sat at the back of my English class, tapping my pen absentmindedly on the desk.

Mr. Thompson’s voice droned on about Shakespeare, but my mind was elsewhere. Tonight would be my first night of training at Intensity, and I couldn’t shake the nervous excitement coursing through me – grateful to have finally landed a job.

What would it be like? Would Tito be patient with me or a nightmare boss? I had never worked in a bar before, let alone one with the kind of reputation Intensity seemed to have. He even mentioned something about me working upstairs in the VIP lounge whatever that meant…

Lost in my thoughts, I barely noticed the hum of chatter from the other students whispering around me. The classroom, with its faded posters and rows of wooden desks, seemed distant.

I was so engrossed in imagining what the bar would look like in full swing that I almost missed the scrunched-up piece of paper that landed squarely on my desk in a swift motion.

Startled, I glanced around and saw Vincent smirking at me from across the room. He gestured for me to open the note, his eyes twinkling with mischief as I opened and closed my mouth dreading whatever was on it.

My heart sank. The last thing I wanted was more attention, especially from Vincent, who already seemed to enjoy making me the center of unwanted jokes.

I was hoping that he would have meant to pass it to someone else, but judging by his thrilled expression I had guessed wrong…

With nervous fingers, I unfolded the paper, aware of the curious stares from the other girls in the class, some of which not looking so pleased with the interaction.

My cheeks burned with embarrassment as I smoothed out the crumpled sheet. Inside, I found a quick comic-like sketch that Vincent had drawn. The first panel showed a girl, clearly meant to be me, carrying a lunch tray towards two guy characters.

The second panel featured one of the guys with a speech bubble that read, “Meh” as the character seemed to judge the lunch with a disgusted look on its face – evidently representing Vincent again.

The final panel depicted the girl tripping over a foot and falling flat on her face, a comical shriek emanating from her open mouth, reenacting the way his friend had tripped me up yesterday.

My face turned an even deeper shade of red as I realised the sketch was a cruel parody of my encounter during lunch yesterday. Embarrassed and hurt, I quickly scrunched the paper back up and tucked my head down, hoping to hide my blushing cheeks from the many stares I was receiving.

That was good enough for Vincent though, as I glanced over at him briefly to see his smug arrogant look plastered across his facial features like a rash.

Why me?

The room seemed to close in on me, and I could hear a few stifled giggles from nearby – clearly having peaked at the paper as I was inspecting it.

Vincent chuckled softly, clearly pleased with himself, as I checked the clock on the wall and prayed for time to speed up.

I clenched my teeth, determined not to let him see how much his mockery had affected me. I took a deep breath and tried to focus on Mr. Thompson’s lecture, but the words seemed to blur together once again – feeling Vincent’s unwavering gaze settling down on me.

All I could think about was the note and how foolish I must have looked to everyone as I fumbled to open it. He evidently put a lot of time in to it too with the details and what was worse was that he actually seemed to be pretty good at drawing…

Just as I was about to sink further into my seat, Daryl, a guy I only knew thanks to the register at the beginning of class, leaned over and whispered, “Ignore him, he’s just being an ass to get a reaction. You’re his new play thing it seems.” He explains, seeming openly comfortable to talk about Vincent which I found to be odd.