Never Your Girl

Chapter 5: Hidden Flames

The auditorium at Westbridge High was a battleground of egos, the air thick with anticipation as Elara Wulf Sinclair stood on the stage, her hands trembling around the script. She’d tried to refuse, but Ms. Carver’s insistence left her no choice. Dressed in her usual armor—an oversized gray sweater, baggy jeans, and scuffed sneakers—she looked like she wanted to disappear, her messy bun a shield against the spotlight. But when she spoke, her voice carried Juliet’s words with a quiet intensity that silenced the room. Each line dripped with raw emotion, her eyes flashing with a depth that made the character ache with life. She wasn’t just reading—she was Juliet, torn between love and fate.

The room erupted when she finished. Zara scoffed loudly, arms crossed, muttering, “She’s got the voice, but look at her—Juliet doesn’t wear thrift store rejects.” Chloe snickered, adding, “Right? No one’s falling for that face.” Brielle, flanked by her girls, sat front row, her glossy lips curled in a smirk that didn’t reach her eyes—too calm, too controlled. Other students whispered, some impressed, others skeptical, murmuring, “She’s… good?” and “No way B lets her take it.” Elara kept her head down, avoiding their gazes, and stepped off the stage, her heart pounding with relief that it was over.

Ms. Carver’s voice cut through the buzz. “Thank you, Elara. Now, for Romeo—everyone, you’ll all read. No exceptions.” The announcement sparked chaos. Girls squealed, boys groaned, and Jett laughed, “Guess I’m Romeo now!” Rylan rolled his eyes, muttering, “This is a joke.” Brielle’s smirk widened, her confidence unshaken, while Zara whispered, “Cass will kill it,” and Chloe nodded, “Obviously.” Elara didn’t stick around to hear more. She slipped out, her sneakers silent on the polished floor, desperate to escape the weight of their stares.

Later, in the drama office, Elara stood before Ms. Carver, her voice low and serious. “If I’m selected, I can play the role,” she said, her eyes fixed on the floor. “But I’d rather not. I’ve got… stage fright, and some personal stuff. It’s serious.” It was a lie, and she knew it sounded hollow, but Ms. Carver nodded, her expression softening.

“You were good, Elara,” she said, “but I won’t push you.” As Elara turned to leave, the door creaked open. Cassian stepped in, Jett behind him, their talks fading as they caught her words. Elara froze, her shoulder brushing Cassian’s arm as she hurried past, her breath catching at the contact. His gray-blue eyes followed her, a flicker of curiosity in them, and she knew he’d heard every word.

The next day, the results were announced in the auditorium. Ms. Carver stood center stage, her clipboard in hand. “Juliet—Brielle Langford. Romeo—Cassian Vale.” The room exploded with cheers, Zara and Chloe leading the charge. “B’s the best, obviously!” Zara shouted, flipping her hair. Chloe clapped, squealing, “No one else even stood a chance!” Brielle stood, her smile radiant, her new heels gleaming, soaking in the applause like it was her birthright. But Ms. Carver’s expression was tight, unconvinced—other students had either backed out or barely tried, intimidated by Brielle’s shadow.

Cassian shifted beside me, his jaw tight. “I wanted stage crew,” he said, loud enough for Ms. Carver to hear, referencing his earlier sign-up. “Not this.” But Ms. Carver waved him off, her voice firm. “You’re perfect for Romeo, Cassian. You’ll see.” Brielle turned to him, her smile all charm, and Zara chimed in, “He’s literally made for it!” Chloe nodded, “Westbridge’s golden boy and queen—perfect!”

Elara, standing near the back, let out a quiet breath, relief washing over her. Her name hadn’t been called, which surprised the others who didn’t know her excuses. They whispered, “She was good, though,” and “Why isn’t she on the list?” But Elara’s relief hid a deeper truth, one she guarded like a fortress. She’d already transferred schools twice before Westbridge, her family’s security issues forcing her to stay low. The Sinclairs were chaebols—uber-rich, a $30B empire in luxury tech, real estate, and fashion—and the spotlight came with danger. She didn’t need attention, didn’t want it. All she wanted was to keep her head down, finish graduation, and disappear into the shadows of her future.

At lunch, the cafeteria was a glittering minefield. Elara sat in her usual corner, her hoodie swallowing her frame, when Brielle and her girls strutted over, their presence a storm. Zara spoke first, her voice loud enough for nearby tables to hear. “Everyone knows B’s the best Juliet—Elara couldn’t even look the part.” Chloe laughed, eyeing Elara’s outfit. “Seriously, those clothes? That face? She’s got no sense, no chance at main lead energy.”

Brielle leaned in, her voice calm, too calm, her eyes glinting with something dark. “This isn’t over, Elara,” she said, her tone a velvet threat, her girls smirking behind her. Elara’s stomach twisted, but she kept her gaze on her tray, refusing to engage.

Cassian entered then, his tray in hand, and caught the tail end of the exchange. His mind flashed to Elara’s words in the office—stage fright, personal stuff—and he wondered what she was hiding. She’d known he’d heard, her eyes flicking to him as Brielle spoke, a silent acknowledgment. Before he could say anything, Elara stood, her movements sharp, and exited the cafeteria, her head down but her steps quick, leaving the whispers and Brielle’s cold promise in her wake.