CHAPTER 8: THE SKETCH
1256 Words
“You were expecting me?” I asked. My brows shot up before I could stop them.
Asher leaned his back against the wall, a smirk playing at the edge of his mouth.“Wasn't sure you would come?”
I crossed my arms masking my nerves with an attitude. “You sent the note, didn't you?”
“No. Should I have?” he replied.
His voice was calm. Too calm. The kind that made me think I was stupid for asking him.
“I got… a note,” I said slowly. “Actually, two.”
He laughed under his breath. “And you assumed it was me?”
“Well, you're the only one who —” I stopped myself from shouting.
“The only one who knew.” I whispered.
Something flickered across his face — amusement? Guilt? I couldn’t tell.
Asher hopped off the table, and closed the distance between us in three easy steps.
“Lala,” he said softly, “if I wanted to talk to you, I wouldn't hide behind a paper.”
He smelled like cedar, and something faintly metallic — like rain hitting steel.
I hated that my pulse reacted before my thoughts did.
“Then why—” I began, but something caught my eye.
On the table he had been sitting lay another folded note.
Unopened.
My voice faltered.
“Asher,” I whispered, “if you didn't write that, then who —” pointing at the table he sat on.
He turned, eyes narrowing at the paper.
Before either of us could move, a faint knock echoed from the hallway.
Tap. Tap. Tap .
We both froze.
The door creaked open slowly but no one stood there.
Asher stared at it, then at me. “You still think I'm lying?"
I swallowed hard. “I don't know what to think anymore.”
Asher looked at me for a while, rubbing the back of his neck, and sighed. “Look, whoever is doing this, don't let them get to you. People in this school feed off drama. Give them silence, they'll choke on it.”
I chuckled. “ You sound like you've practiced that speech.”
He smiled faintly. “Maybe, I have.”
For a second, the air between us lightened.
Then my phone buzzed.
I almost ignored it, until I saw a notification flash across the screen.
No name. No number. Just an image file.
I tapped it open. And my stomach dropped.
It was me, and Asher. From last night right before the kiss.
He saw my face change. “What is it?”
I hesitated, then turned the phone so he could see.
He frowned, his brows pulling together. “Where did you get this?”
“It just came in. No contact, no name. Nothing.”
He took a step back, exhaling. “That’s impossible. No one was there, Lala.”
“Clearly someone was.” I said quietly.
We stood in silence full of questions neither of us wanted to ask.
“Maybe it's someone from the groupchat,” he muttered. “You said they were talking this morning.”
“or someone who knows you,” I shot back. “someone who hates attention.”
“You think this is personal?”
I shrugged, trying to sound calm even though my chest was tight. “You've got drama orbiting you Asher. Wouldn't surprise me if someone wants to stir things up.”
What does she know about me? I hope she hasn't gone investigating my life.
He smirked faintly. “You make me sound like a celebrity.”
“You act like one.”
He laughed under this breath, the sound low and easy, and for a moment, the tension between us lightened.
Until he tossed his hoodie onto the chair. Something small and white fell out of the pocket, and landed on the floor.
We both looked down. ..
A tiny paper bird.
His eyes widened. “What the hell–?”
I chuckled. “Is that… origami ?”
He turned it over in his hands, amused. “Didn't know you were into arts and crafts now.”
“That’s not mine.”
He raised a brow. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
Asher took a deep breath, then unfolded it. I expected it to be blank, or maybe another dumb quote like “Smile, you’re on camera.” But the second the folds came apart, I felt my stomach drop.
It was a sketch.
A perfect, detailed sketch of me.
Drawn in pencil, the lines faint but clear enough to capture every feature. My eyes. My hair.
He tilted his head, unsure of what to say . “You sure you didn’t—”
“I told you, it’s not mine.” I swallowed, my tone was low. “You think I’d draw my own face and hide it in your hoodie?”
He didn’t answer. Just stared at the paper a second longer before crumpling it slightly and setting it on the table.
“Maybe one of your dramatic ex-fans,” I muttered, trying to cut the tension.
“You think I have fans?”
I folded my arms. “You walk around like you own the place. Girls notice…. I guess?”
He smirked faintly but didn’t bite. His mind was already spinning somewhere else.
Then I added, “Could be one of your friends too. Someone with a weird sense of humor.”
He leaned back, thinking. “Melissa barely cares about anyone, Sylvie definitely can't do that,Justin’s… different.”
“Different how?”
“He was acting off at the party. Joking too much.”
I frowned. “You think it’s him?”
“I don’t know,” he said quietly. “He’s the only one who’d have a reason to stir something. He was there that night. He saw—”
He paused.
“Saw what?”
He shook his head. “Nothing. Forget it.”
A short silence stretched.
I finally sighed. “Okay, detective, we’re not going to figure this out tonight.”
A small pop echoed from the hallway outside, making me jump.
Asher chuckled. “Relax. It’s just the vending machine.”
“Or the ghost of your jealous fan,” I muttered under my breath.
He grinned. “You’re hilarious.”
As we walked down the hall toward the dorms, someone stepped out from around the corner.
Justin.
He had his phone in hand, earbuds in, and a grin that didn’t reach his eyes.
“Yo, Asher,” he said, voice easy. “Didn’t know you love the library.”
Asher pressed my arm, as he tried to fake a smile . “Yeah. Just… catching up.”
Justin looked at me for a second, his eyes running from head to toe before he looked away. “You should try wearing a black shirt, it’d suit you.”
He walked off, humming under his breath.
I glanced at Asher. “That was weird.”
“Yeah,” he said, eyes following Justin until he disappeared down the hall.
We reached our door. I swiped my card on the door, but before I could step inside, he said quietly “Maybe weird isn’t the word.”
I looked back. “Then what is?”
He didn't answer.
His jaw tightened, fist clenched. I'm sure he took that picture. What's with the “Black shirt” he mentioned earlier? Why would he do that to me?
- Writer
