Page 6 of Bloody Valentine

Gasps sounded around me, and I rolled my eyes. Geez-us…everyone at this school was brainwashed. Maybe free tuition wasn’t worth it after all. St. Valentine’s University had one, if not the, most prestigious journalism program in the country.

I had to try and make it through this school, at least.

Rich, rude asshole, be damned. They said he worked here, but that didn’t mean I had to be near him. He probably did somehoity-toity shit that matched his perfect lapels. I was sure I wouldn’t so much as cross paths with him.

My watch alerted me to my class time approaching, and I dusted off my stupid required plaid skirt and itchy tights before saluting the nerds.

“Well, as lovely as this uh…history lesson has been, I have class.”

The dorks glanced my way and exchanged a look with one another.

“What class do you have now?” one of them said.

I looked at my phone, scrolling to the time frame listed and sliding my finger over to the title: “The Innovations of Art and Illustrations.”

Some in the group snickered, while others looked even more sympathetic than when I told them my name. “Uh, okay… Well, see ya later, losers.”

I followed the map of the winding paths of the castle-like university, trying to navigate to my stupid lecture. Hopefully, whoever this eccentric human was, the art professor would take some pity on the new kid being late.

I was already halfway through the semester and would need to retake all these courses because I transferred so late, but I figured that getting acquainted with extra classes and information was a win-win for me.

I was only a sophomore, and my mother wanted me to get acquainted with the sorority.

Technically, I was a legacy, but I didn’t want anything to do with it despite sharing housing. I planned on tricking my mom when she came to visit.

That life was her dream, and she already lived it. I was tired of living in her world. I actually had a shot at being my own person here.

The nerds’ gasps and spazzing came to my mind, and I sighed.

Maybe not my own person, after all. Now, I’d be living in Vivianna Valentine’s shadow.

The door to the art room was at the very fucking back of one of the hallways, and I was out of breath from the number of stairs I had climbed to reach the stupid place. I took a deep breath, peeking into the door and seeing easels and students with smocks diligently working on their art.

I couldn’t see any professor-looking people, so I quickly and quietly snuck into the room.

There was an empty space toward the very front, and I snatched a smock from someone’s chair and put it on.

“Snooze, you lose,” I mumbled as I walked by.

I reached the easel and stood there, looking at the blank canvas and having absolutely zero idea what the fuck to do with it. I picked up a paintbrush and started scribbling red on the paper.

The students in the room were watching me, being careful to busy themselves with their own art. A few kept staring at me in shock, and I glared at them.

“What are you looking at? Do your doodles, douche.”

The students’ eyes widened, and I smiled, but it was short-lived. The red splotches of my canvas became shadowed. I turned to look and saw the man from the library standing behind me.

“No fucking way,” I said out loud, disbelief making me groan as I rolled my eyes.

The man walked up to me and looked at the red splotches all over the white paper with that stupid, intrigued look in his bright blue eyes.

“Do you always hide in the shadows, waiting to claim someone’s title as your own?” he said, and I fucking lost it.

Screw this asshat for insinuating that just because I was a Valentine, that meant I was somehow trying to use that as a way to overshadow someone else. I wasn’t.

“Listen, fuckface,” I said, getting those stupid gasps again. “I don’t care what my name is. I am proud to be Vivian Valentine. I don’t know my ancestors, nor do I give a flying fuck about them or their history, so just leave me alone.”

It was so quiet that I could hear hearts rapidly beating in the chests of those around me.

---