Dear Heart, Why Him?

chapter 1

Chapter 1: New Shadows

The first day at Ridgeway High smelled like fresh paint, wet grass, and nerves.

Elara Grey stood at the gates, her sketchpad clutched tightly to her chest like a shield. Her heart raced with the awkward mixture of fear and hope that came with being the new girl—again. She had memorized the school map, practiced her introduction in the mirror, and told herself it would be different this time. No more fading into the background. No more hiding in the art room during lunch. This was her chance to start fresh.

But as she stepped into the courtyard, laughter rang out—not the friendly kind. It was the sharp, mocking kind that made your stomach twist.

"Nice hat, loser!" someone yelled.

A boy staggered backward, backpack pulled over his head, his books scattering across the concrete. A tall figure towered over him, smirking.

Elara froze.

The guy doing the bullying was impossible to miss. Jet-black hair, messy like he didn’t care. Dark hoodie despite the spring heat. A chipped silver ring on his thumb. And eyes—piercing gray eyes that looked straight through people.

Jaxon Reid.

Even without an introduction, she knew who he was. Every school had one: the untouchable bad boy with a reputation soaked in rumors. At Ridgeway, it was Jaxon. Some said he’d been expelled twice. Others whispered he broke a teacher’s nose in eighth grade. There was even a tale about him getting arrested—though no one could confirm it.

He glanced around, then locked eyes with her.

She looked away.

Too late.

He started walking toward her.

Elara’s heart jumped into her throat. She turned her gaze to her sketchpad, pretending to be absorbed in her half-finished drawing of a tree. Her hands trembled as she shaded a branch that didn’t need shading.

"Hey, new girl," came a deep voice.

She didn’t look up.

"Are you deaf or just rude?" Jaxon’s voice was closer now, laced with mock amusement.

Elara exhaled slowly, lifting her eyes. “Neither. Just busy.”

His brow lifted. “Busy drawing a tree?”

“Yes. Unlike you, I don't get my kicks from harassing freshmen.”

Gasps fluttered around the courtyard like falling leaves. A few students stopped to watch.

Jaxon smirked. “Feisty. That’s new.”

“I’m not interested in being your next target, so if you could go find someone else to torment, that would be great.”

For a moment, his smirk faltered. Then it returned, sharper than before. “You’ve got guts. I’ll give you that.”

He leaned in just slightly, enough for her to smell mint and smoke on his breath. “But careful, Grey. Ridgeway eats people like you alive.”

With that, he turned and walked away, shoving his hands in his pockets as if nothing had happened.

Elara exhaled sharply and looked around. People were still staring.

"Nice knowing you," someone muttered as they passed.

Elara sighed. So much for a fresh start.

By third period, she was already marked as the girl who talked back to Jaxon Reid. A few students looked at her with admiration. Most avoided her altogether. Arielle Torres, a bold girl with bright blue hair and a sharp tongue, slid into the seat next to her in history class and offered a look that was part curiosity, part warning.

“You either have a death wish,” Arielle said, “or you're new.”

“New,” Elara replied.

“I’m Arielle. And you, Elara Grey, are either the bravest person I’ve ever met or the dumbest.”

“I just don’t like bullies.”

Arielle grinned. “Neither do I. But Jaxon… he's not just a bully. He’s—complicated.”

“Everyone is,” Elara said without thinking. “Doesn’t make it okay.”

Arielle studied her for a long moment. “You might actually survive here.”

Lunchtime came, and Elara did what she always did—headed to the art room.

To her relief, it was empty. She sank into the corner desk and opened her sketchpad, finally letting herself breathe. Her pencil moved on its own, translating her nerves into graphite strokes. But when she looked down, she froze.

It was him.

Jaxon.

Not a detailed portrait—just fragments. His scowl. His eyes. The shadow of his hoodie. The tension in his jaw.

She shut the sketchpad quickly, cheeks burning. What was wrong with her?

The door creaked.

She looked up, startled.

Jaxon stood there.

Again.

He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Let me guess. Hiding from the big, bad school?”

She stared at him. “What do you want?”

“Was just passing by. Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Too bad.”