Destroy Me Gently:Ex-Enemy Becomes My Lover!
Chapter 13: Oops Busted

Chapter 13: Oops Busted

Chapter Thirteen

Oliver West

This was one of those moments I really confirmed that fate must have a special hatred for me.

Most times in Mr. Obum’s class, I usually sketched flowers or other random things, and he had only checked them out a few times.

So why now? Why today of all days?

I stared up at the ceiling. Ten whole points! I couldn’t possibly give those up. It would surely go a long way to cover up my low scores in the other subjects.

Sweat broke out on my face when the girl beside me walked to the front of the class with her work. She held up some basic landscape drawing and mumbled something about "peaceful places" before quickly sitting back down.

Why hadn’t I decided on something simply beautiful and basic like that? But no, I had to sketch down my worst enemy. One who hates me to the bone.

A sudden image of me going up there, in front of the whole class, with my drawing of Kieran flashed through my head for the briefest moment.

Oh god!

I could literally see the reactions of my classmates in my head. The whispers, the stares, the cruel laughter. I tried to imagine Kieran’s own reaction but couldn’t. Would he be angry? Disgusted? Amused?

I spared him a quick glance from the corner of my eyes, but he appeared to be staring right outside the window with some distant look in his hard gaze.

The piercing earring on one of his ears caught the sunlight streaming through the window. He looked every inch the bad boy he was—untouchable, dangerous, beautiful in a way that hurt to look at.

As though he felt my gaze, he turned slightly. I looked away immediately, my heart skipping a wild beat at the prospect of being caught staring at him so intently.

"Oliver West," Mr. Obum’s voice cut through my panicked thoughts. Clear and expectant.

Now my heart was beating wildly for a whole different reason.

I watched as the girl next to me returned to her seat, looking relieved.

It was my turn.

I gulped like a fish thrown suddenly out of water.

I stared down at my portrait, and honestly, it was good. Too good. Every line of Kieran’s face was perfect, drawn with the kind of careful attention that could only come from someone who had memorized every detail. Someone who still cared, despite everything.

The horror must have showed on my face because Heath suddenly leaned closer, speaking with genuine worry in his voice.

"Are you alright, short legs? You look like you’re about to pass out."

He reached out instinctively, as if to check my forehead for a fever. I jerked back, both from surprise and the sudden attention it drew.

Could he really be this nice to me? In front of everyone?

From the corner of my eyes, I caught the whole class’s expressions, especially Hailey’s. Her eyes narrowed dangerously as she watched Heath show concern for me.

Popular guy Heath and her "supposed boyfriend" shouldn’t even be seen talking to me in the first place, let alone showing genuine worry. I could read the confusion and jealousy clearly from most of their stares.

They had no idea that his newfound friendliness was all due to the secret I’d accidentally discovered yesterday. A secret that made us unlikely allies.

Hailey could be so territorial. I’d seen what she did to other girls who she saw as threats to her relationship. She could be even more brutal than Amanda when she felt threatened.

I couldn’t help but wonder what her reaction would be when she eventually found out the truth about Heath’s sexuality.

The classroom fell silent. All eyes were on me, waiting.

I suddenly realized they had been waiting for me to walk up there while I’d been lost in my own spiraling thoughts.

With legs that felt like jelly, I stood up slowly. My fingers were white-knuckled around the edges of the drawing. Mr. Obum gave me an encouraging pat on the shoulder as I walked past him.

"Yes Oliver, you’re one of my most talented students. I can’t wait to see what masterpiece you’ve created for us," he spoke with genuine enthusiasm, completely unaware of my internal crisis.

Poor, sweet Mr. Obum. If only he knew.

Now I stood in front of the whole class, twenty-something pairs of eyes staring at me expectantly. Their gazes felt like spotlights, harsh and unforgiving.

I kept my eyes carefully away from Kieran’s corner of the room.

I opened my mouth to speak, but what came out was barely a whisper. My throat felt like sandpaper.

"Speak up! We can’t hear you!" one of the jock called out, and half the class murmured in agreement.

My face burned with embarrassment. I turned desperately to Mr. Obum, my one hope for salvation. He’d always been kind to me, always encouraged my art.

"Sir," I managed, my voice shaking slightly, "this painting is very... very personal to me. I don’t really feel comfortable sharing it with everyone."

The reaction was immediate. Snickers erupted around the room.

"Who does he think he is?"

"Is it really that special?"

"What an attention seeker."

"Probably just drew some anime character."

Each comment felt like a small cut, but I forced myself to keep looking at Mr. Obum hopefully.

That’s when my eyes accidentally found Kieran. He was staring right at me, his expression unreadable. Not mocking like the others, not amused. Just... watching. Intense and focused in a way that made my stomach flip.

"Could I maybe show it to you privately?" The words tumbled out, my voice cracking embarrassingly on the last word. "After class?"

Mr. Obum’s expression softened with understanding. "Of course, Oliver. Art is deeply personal. You can submit it to me privately."

Relief flooded through me so fast I nearly swayed on my feet. The bell chose that exact moment to ring, like some kind of miracle.

I practically ran from the classroom, not caring how it looked. Once I was safely in the hallway, I ripped the drawing in half with shaking hands and shoved both pieces deep into the nearest trash bin.

Three minutes. I could draw something else in three minutes. Something safe and boring and completely meaningless.

*

Three minutes turned out to be plenty of time.

I walked out of Mr. Obum’s office feeling like I could breathe again. He’d praised my hastily drawn flower sketch, completely unaware of the crisis I’d just averted.

School was over, and the hallways were filling with students eager to escape. I looked around for William, but he was nowhere to be seen in the crowd.

I pulled out my phone, about to text him, when movement by my locker caught my eye.

My blood turned to ice.

Kieran was leaning against my locker, looking completely relaxed. Too relaxed. Like a predator who’d just cornered his prey.

I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t look away.

In his left hand, he held two pieces of paper. Two pieces that I recognized with growing horror.

My drawing. The one I’d ripped up and thrown away.

He’d gone through the trash. He’d found it. He’d put the pieces back together.

Our eyes met across the hallway, and slowly, deliberately, Kieran held up the reconstructed drawing so I could see it clearly.

My perfect portrait of him. Every careful line, every loving detail, every emotion I’d tried so hard to hide.

He knew.

He knew exactly what I desired most.

And from the dark smile spreading across his face, I realized my nightmare was just beginning