Loving Him

Chapter 4 - Detention

The next day started like every other until it didn’t.

It was during Chemistry, again. Mr. Holt was in a very bad mood, having to just discover that someone had swapped the labels on two reagent bottles. He was waving a clipboard like a sword, demanding to know who thought that was funny.

I didn’t think it was funny either until the mix-up caused a small pop and a cloud of blueish smoke to rise from Jayden’s beaker.

“BLACK!” Holt roared.

Jayden stood slowly, unfazed as ever. “Wasn’t me.”

“It was your experiment.”

Jayden shrugged. “I didn’t switch the bottles.”

I decided to step in. “Sir, it wasn’t him. He followed the instructions that were given to us.”

Mr. Holt’s glare flicked between us. “I suppose you think you’re wise, Miss Harper. Covering for him, are we?”

“No,” I said quickly. “I mean yes, we’re lab partners. I know he didn’t do anything wrong because I was with him throughout the class.”

“Fine,” Mr. Holt snapped. “Both of you. Detention. Today. After school.”

“What?” I gasped. “But....”

“No buts. It’s time you both learned the value of precaution in my lab.”

Jayden didn’t argue. He picked up his bag and walked out.

I stood there, shocked.

Serena caught up to me at lunch, mid rant. “You got detention? With him?”

“It wasn’t his fault,” I insisted.

“Layla.” She lowered her voice. “You’re getting pulled into his orbit of trouble.”

I didn't respond. Because she was right. I was. And I wasn’t sure I wanted out.

****

After school, the detention room was really quiet. A few students trickled in some loud, some annoyed but Jayden sat at the back, head down, sketchbook wide

open.

I took the seat beside him, dropping my bag with a little more force than necessary. “You could’ve defended yourself.”

He didn’t look up. “Wouldn’t have mattered.”

“You can't tell that.”

“I can.” He tapped his pencil twice against the paper. “People believe what they want regardless of what you say or do.”

I crossed my arms. “That’s a pretty hopeless way to see the world.”

“It’s not hopeless. It’s just the fact.”

The silence stretched again. Mr. Coates, the teacher on detention duty, looked like he was half asleep behind his desk. , The late afternoon sun cast long shadows on the floor.

“You didn’t have to stand up for me,” Jayden said after a while.

“I know.”

“So... why did you?”

I looked at him. “Because someone had to.”

He glanced at me then, really glanced like he was trying to figure me out just has he did in his drawings.

“You’re different.”

“Because I don’t believe every rumor about you?”

“Because you don’t run away from people.”

I frowned. “Who says I don’t?”

“I can see it,” he said quietly. “You’re always holding something back. But you don’t run.”

And somehow, that felt more vulnerable than anything he’d said before.

“Maybe,” I replied softly. “Maybe I’m just tired of putting on a face.”

We didn’t say anything else for the rest of detention. But we didn’t need to. The silence between us had shifted. It wasn’t awkward anymore it was... something else.

Companionable. Comfortable.

Dangerously comforting.

****

As we packed our things, Jayden spoke again.

“Do you want to see something?”

I blinked. “Right now?”

He nodded and led me down the stairs, through the west hallway, and out toward the back of the school where the old art building sat, mostly unused. It was quiet there very peaceful, away from the chaos of school life.

He pulled out a key from his pocket and unlocked the door.

“You have a key?” I asked, surprised.

“The Custodian gave it to me last semester. Said I could use the space since the art program’s basically dead.”

The room smelled like dust and paint. Light filtered through cracked windows, casting golden patterns on the floor. He walked to the far corner where canvases and sketch pads lay stacked.

He picked up one and handed it to me.

It was another drawing of me but this one was different. In it, I looked powerful. My chin was raised. My eyes were fierce.

“Why do I look like that?” I whispered.

“Because that’s how you looked when you stood up for me.”

I held the drawing like it was glass.

“Do you do this for everyone?” I asked.

“No,” he said simply. “Just you.”

My heart fluttered. My voice came out as a whisper. “Why?”

Jayden stepped closer, his expression unreadable. “Because I can’t figure you out. And I really want to.”

He was close enough now that I could smell the faint scent of graphite on his skin. My breath hitched.

And then, just like that, he stepped back.

“Take it,” he said, nodding at the sketch. “It’s yours.”

****

Later that night, I tucked the drawing into the back of my journal, away from the eyes of my parents or Serena. I didn’t want to have to explain it.

Because how could I explain the way a quiet, guarded boy had started to draw me out of the lines I’d spent years coloring inside?

How could I explain the way my heart skipped a beat whenever he looked at me. Not like I was perfect, but like he saw every flaw and didn’t look away?

And how could I explain that the most dangerous part of falling for someone...

…is not knowing whether they’ll catch you?

Or not.