His new stepsister His biggest threat (Claire and Elijah) novel Chapter 160

**Chapter 160**

**Claire’s POV**

The hallway stretched out before me, an endless corridor that seemed to mock my every step.

With each footfall, the sound reverberated against the gleaming floor, but the weight of Elijah’s presence behind me turned every echo into a reminder of the tension hanging in the air.

I longed to keep moving, to blend into the throng of students pouring out of the school, but deep down, I understood that ignoring him was not an option.

“Are we really going to walk in silence?” he inquired, his voice low and taut, as if he were straining against an invisible force.

“Y-yes,” I stuttered, suddenly acutely aware of how my heart raced in my chest, betraying me with its frantic rhythm. “I mean, there’s really no need for conversation.”

His lips twisted into that infuriating half-smile that always seemed to dance on the edge of mischief. “Right. Because that works so well for you,” he replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

I swallowed hard, feeling the heat of embarrassment creep up my neck. “It does,” I asserted, though I knew it was a lie.

As we passed the lockers, the faint scent of chalk dust mingled with the sharp tang of detergent, a reminder of the countless hours spent in this place. I could sense him beside me, close enough that I didn’t need to look over my shoulder to know he was there.

“You were avoiding me in class,” he declared suddenly, as if he had been waiting all day to unleash that observation. “Why?”

My heart dropped, and I froze for a moment, the strap of my bag digging into my fingers as I tightened my grip. “I-I wasn’t avoiding you,” I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper.

Elijah raised an eyebrow, skepticism etched across his features. “Was that the truth, or just another one of your little evasions?”

“It’s complicated,” I admitted, letting my gaze drop to the floor, the tiles suddenly more interesting than the conversation. “I don’t like making things complicated for anyone.”

“You make things complicated whether you like it or not,” he countered, his tone steady yet sharp, as if he were cutting through my defenses. “Especially for me.”

Heat flooded my cheeks at his words. “You make things complicated too, you know,” I shot back, a hint of defiance creeping into my voice.

His laughter was soft, teasing, but there was an underlying seriousness that caused me to pause. “Do I?”

“Yes!” I exclaimed, more forcefully than I intended, my frustration spilling over. “You always show up at the worst moments. You ask the most inconvenient questions. And you notice everything.”

He halted in his tracks and turned to fully face me, his expression softening while his intense gaze held me captive. “Notice everything?”

I muttered, kicking at the floor, feeling the weight of his scrutiny. “You know, everything. The sketching, the whispers, the—” I cut myself off, realizing I was on the verge of revealing too much.

Elijah tilted his head, curiosity evident in his posture. “The what?”

“The… um… the silly stuff,” I blurted out, my voice rising in pitch. “Nothing important.”

“Stupid stuff that makes you blush,” he said, leaning in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper that sent a thrill through the air between us. “Interesting.”

I wanted to retreat, to put some distance between us, but my feet felt glued to the floor. “It’s… not interesting.”

“It is,” he murmured, the intensity of his gaze making my heart race. “Very.”

The distant bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, but I barely registered it. My mind was consumed by the way he seemed to have an unbreakable connection to me, an invisible thread that pulled us together.

He straightened up suddenly, breaking the charged moment. “You’re thinking about this morning, aren’t you?”

My eyes widened in surprise. “I—maybe.”

“You were shaking a lot,” he observed quietly, his tone shifting to something more serious. “More than usual, and that’s why I didn’t leave.”

I bit my lip, grappling with how to articulate my feelings. How could I explain that the embarrassment stemmed from him just being… him?

“I wasn’t shaking,” I lied, the words feeling heavy on my tongue.

“Claire,” he said, his voice firm yet gentle, almost protective. “Don’t lie about things I can see. You were shaking.”

“Fine,” I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper. “I was nervous. Happy. I don’t know.”

He chuckled softly, the sound sending a familiar flutter through my stomach. “You’re never simple, are you?”

“I like to think I am,” I replied, attempting a casual tone that fell flat.

“Yes. This. Don’t look at me like that.”

“You love it when I look at you like that,” he replied casually, though his eyes sparkled with mischief.

“I do not,” I protested weakly, my voice lacking conviction.

“You do,” he countered, a hint of triumph in his tone.

I wanted to argue again, but deep down, I knew it was futile. He always won these little skirmishes. And somehow, despite my protests, my heart was drawn to him, eager to comply.

We continued walking in silence until we reached the lobby, where students spilled out into the street like a river breaking free. Elijah fell into step beside me once more, this time matching my hesitant pace.

“So,” he said finally, as if testing the waters, “Tomorrow. 3 p.m. Art supply store. Don’t forget.”

“I won’t,” I replied, my voice quieter than I intended. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re predictable,” he shot back, a teasing smile dancing on his lips. “Perfect match, really.”

I wanted to throw something at him—anything—but all I managed was a huff as I turned my gaze forward, pretending not to notice how close he was again.

Just before we reached the doors, he spoke again, his voice low and intimate. “Claire?”

I glanced at him, reluctant but unable to resist.

“Try not to blush tomorrow,” he said softly, a teasing lilt in his tone. “It suits you too well.”

My face burned, but I refused to look down, determined to maintain my composure. “I can’t promise that.”

He smirked, that infuriating, knowing smirk, and stepped out into the sunlight. I watched him disappear into the crowd, feeling the warmth of his presence linger long after he was gone.

With a shaky breath, I adjusted my bag strap, suddenly acutely aware of the silence that enveloped the hallway without him beside me.

And as I stood there, a realization washed over me, filling my chest with a confusing ache: I was already counting down the hours until I would see him again.