Jacob found Ciara sitting alone in an empty classroom after lunch, her head down as she half-heartedly sketched patterns on the back of her notebook. She seemed to be fuming, and when she looked up to see him standing there, she rolled her eyes and looked away.
“What?” she said, her voice cold. “Come to accuse me of something too?”
Jacob approached slowly, raising his hands in surrender. “Actually, I was just going to ask if you’re okay. You seem… annoyed.”
She looked at him, her eyes flashing with frustration. “Hanna thinks I ruined her little talent show moment by dumping paint on her. Like I’m that desperate for attention.”
“Well, you kind of made it your brand to mess with her,” Jacob replied, his tone matter-of-fact. “Can you really blame her for thinking that?”
Ciara scowled, looking back at her notebook. “Maybe. But she’s wrong this time. I swear, Jacob, I didn’t do it. You have no idea how tired I am of everyone assuming the worst about me.”
Jacob paused, a flicker of curiosity softening his expression. He took a seat across from her, leaning forward. “Alright, so tell me. Who’s the ‘real’ Ciara, then?”
She looked at him, something vulnerable and raw flashing in her eyes. For a moment, the mask dropped, and she looked away, as if letting him in scared her more than she wanted to admit.
“The ‘real’ me?” she echoed, a bitter smile tugging at her lips. “The real me is someone who’s never allowed to be anything but perfect and pretty. The girl who has to act tough because that’s all anyone expects. The one who… doesn’t let people get close.”
Jacob’s brow furrowed, sensing the depth of her words. “Then stop pretending. Show people who you actually are, and maybe they’ll stop seeing you as this… villain.”
Ciara chuckled, though her gaze softened. “Easier said than done. But thanks, Jacob. For at least asking.”
He nodded, feeling an unexpected warmth toward her. Part of him wanted to believe she was capable of change, but another part reminded him to be wary. Ciara had always been complicated, her motives layered and unpredictable. But as he left her sitting there, he couldn’t help feeling that maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t as shallow as he’d thought.