Chapter 3
Then Ezra grabbed my wrist and pulled me out of the hazy, chaotic box.
The hallway outside was quiet, and the fresh air helped me sober up a bit.
"Don't force yourself at these kinds of parties," he said, leaning against the wall, his brow slightly furrowed as he looked at me.
"I didn't..." I mumbled.
"I know," he cut me off. "You're just sticking to the bet."
His gaze was intense, and I couldn't really figure him out.
There was a moment of silence.
"Let's go back," he said.
We walked one after the other on the way back to the dorm, the streetlights stretching our shadows out long.
Just as we were about to reach the dorm building, he suddenly stopped.
"Hazel," he said.
"Yeah?" I replied.
"Do you still want to keep going with this bet?" he asked.
My heart skipped a beat.
Was he about to end this whole mess?
I was about to say, "Forget it."
But he spoke again, his voice soft.
"If you don't want to, you can end it anytime," he said.
"But if you still want..." He paused, looking into my eyes.
"Then take it seriously," he added.
My heart started racing again, totally out of my control.
Back in my dorm, I barely slept well.
I just wanted to graduate quietly. But after losing a game of truth or dare to Ezra, the school heartthrob, I got stuck in this absurd drama.
But now, he told me to "take it seriously." What was that supposed to mean?
The next day, I showed up at the art studio with dark circles under my eyes. The school was hosting an art exhibition, and everyone in our department had to submit a piece.
Just as I was focused on mixing colors, Clara walked in.
She stopped in front of my easel and glanced at my painting.
"Hazel, your composition is really bold," she said.
I ignored her and kept painting.
She let out a soft laugh.
"Wait a sec, the way you painted the night sky kind of reminds me of my piece from last year's city competition," she said.
My brush froze in mid-air.
I looked up at her, my gaze icy.
"Clara, what do you mean?" I asked.
She covered her mouth, acting surprised.
"Don't misunderstand, I just think it's a funny coincidence," she said.
"Ezra said my painting was his favorite, that it was the prettiest starry sky he's ever seen," she added.
My temper flared up in an instant.
I set down my brush and stood up.
"Clara, just make it straight. Don't play games with me," I said.
Clara took a step back, intimidated by my tone, her eyes turning red again.
"I didn't. I just..." she stammered.
Just then, the studio door was pushed open.
The professor in charge and a few department cadres walked in, and Ezra was with them.
Clara saw them and rushed over, crying her heart out.
"Professor, please look! Hazel's plagiarizing my painting!" she sobbed.
She pointed at my painting, tears falling like rain.
"The way she painted the night sky is exactly like my award-winning piece from last year! Ezra saw it. He can vouch for me!" Clara said.
Everyone's gaze locked onto my painting, then shifted to me.
The professor's face darkened. He walked over, checked my painting carefully, then looked at me. His eyes were full of disappointment.
"Hazel, what's going on here?" the professor asked.
I opened my mouth, but no words came out.
Who'd believe me if I said it was just a coincidence?
Clara cried even harder.
"I didn't want to bring it up, but this is my effort. I can't just..." she choked out.
Just as I felt like those stares were about to crush me, Ezra stepped up.
He didn't spare Clara or me a glance.
He went straight to my easel, grabbed a brush, and dabbed it in white paint.
With a few light taps, he added dots to the night sky in my painting.
Suddenly, that deep sky seemed to breathe, as if it were waking up.
Those tiny, overlooked stars linked together, forming a constellation. It was Orion.
Ezra set the brush down, turned to Clara, and his voice was cold as ice.
He said, "Clara, your painting was Cygnus. Hazel's is Orion."
He paused, his gaze sweeping across everyone in the room.
He continued, "And the stardust blue paint here? That's a new color that was only released this fall.
"So, tell me, how did you use this year's paint in your piece from last year?"
The entire studio fell deathly silent.