Chapter 2 – Riley

Ava Carter is loud.

Not just in the way she speaks, but in the way she exists.

She walks into a room like she owns it, speaks like she dares someone to challenge her, and somehow manages to be both insufferable and… frustratingly magnetic.

And now, thanks to Professor Hayes and my complete lack of luck, I'm stuck with her.

I glance up from my notebook, watching as she taps her fingers against the library table, clearly impatient. She's always in motion, always itching for something—an argument, a fight, attention. It should be exhausting.

It is exhausting.

And yet, I find myself hyper-aware of every move she makes. The way she tilts her head when she's thinking. The way her green eyes darken when she's irritated. The way she bites the inside of her cheek when she's holding back a remark.

It's annoying how much I notice.

I focus back on my notes, pretending she's not staring at me like I'm some kind of puzzle she can't quite figure out.

"So," she says, dragging out the word. "Are we gonna divide the work, or are you gonna keep acting like you have better things to do?"

I don't look up. "I do have better things to do."

She scoffs. "Wow. I love this teamwork already."

I finally glance at her. "If you stopped talking for five seconds, maybe we'd get something done."

Ava leans forward, resting her chin on her hand. "Oh, I'm sorry. Am I distracting you?"

She says it teasingly, but there's an edge to her voice—something sharper, something that makes my stomach tighten.

I school my expression into indifference. "Not in the slightest."

A slow smirk tugs at her lips, and I know she doesn't believe me.

Ava thrives on reaction. She loves to push buttons, loves to get under people's skin. And for some reason, I'm her favorite target.

Which is exactly why I refuse to give her the satisfaction.

I push my notebook toward her, keeping my face carefully neutral. "We need to pick a topic. I assume you don't want to waste time arguing over everything?"

She blinks, like she wasn't expecting me to get straight to business. For a second, she studies my notes, her lips pressing together in what I think is reluctant approval.

Finally, she nods. "Fine. Let's go with this one."

That's it. No sarcasm. No complaints. Just… agreement.

For some reason, that throws me off more than if she'd argued.

I lean back in my chair, watching as she twirls a pen between her fingers. "See? That wasn't so hard."

She glances up, raising an eyebrow. "Careful, Bennett. I might start thinking you actually like working with me."

I snort. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves."

She grins, and for a split second, it's not mocking or smug—it's just genuine. It disappears just as fast, but I catch myself staring anyway.

And that? That's dangerous.

Because this is Ava Carter.

My rival. My problem. The one person I should never—under any circumstances—let get too close.

And yet, for the first time, I wonder if keeping my distance is going to be harder than I thought.

Ava shifts in her seat, twirling her pen between her fingers, watching me like she's waiting for me to slip up. It's the same look she always gives me when we argue in class—sharp, expectant, like she's daring me to react.

Normally, I ignore it. But right now, it's getting under my skin.

I glance back at my notes, trying to focus, but it's impossible when she's right there.

Ava Carter has always been loud, but it's not just her voice—it's the way she is. She walks into a room like she owns it, and people gravitate toward her without her even trying. It's infuriating.

Because no matter how much I pretend otherwise, I notice her.

Too much.

And now, for the rest of the semester, I have to sit across from her, work with her, talk to her.

She shifts again, crossing her arms, and lets out an exaggerated sigh. "You know, for someone who's supposed to be so smart, you're really bad at making conversation."

I raise an eyebrow. "I wasn't aware this was supposed to be social hour."

Ava leans in slightly, her lips curving into a smirk. "Come on, Bennett. Don't act like you're not enjoying this."

I refuse to take the bait. "Enjoying what, exactly?"

She tilts her head, studying me. "The back and forth. The competition. The fact that, deep down, you love having someone to challenge you."

My stomach tightens, but I don't let it show. "You're overestimating your importance in my life."

Ava lets out a mock gasp. "Ouch. That almost sounded cold."

I roll my eyes, but she keeps watching me, and there's something about the way she's looking at me now—something different. Her teasing is still there, but there's an edge to it, like she's waiting for me to admit something I don't even understand myself.

I don't break eye contact. I refuse to.

Instead, I tap my fingers against the table, grounding myself. "Let's just focus on the project."

She sighs dramatically but finally drops the act. "Fine. Be boring."

We settle into an uneasy silence, and for the first time since we sat down, I feel like I can breathe again.

But then she does something unexpected.

She stretches her arms over her head, letting out a quiet groan as she rolls her shoulders, and my eyes betray me for half a second.

Half a second too long.

Because suddenly, I'm hyper-aware of her—of the way her shirt lifts slightly, revealing a sliver of skin above her jeans, of the way her collarbones shift as she moves. It's nothing. It's stupid. It shouldn't affect me.

But it does.

I snap my gaze back to my notes, gripping my pen a little too tightly.

Ava notices. Of course she notices.

She smirks, her voice dropping slightly. "Something wrong, Bennett?"

I inhale slowly, exhaling through my nose. "Not at all."

"Mm-hmm." She doesn't believe me, and I hate that she's enjoying this.

I hate it even more that, for a split second, so am I.

Ava shifts in her seat again, tapping her pen against the table. The repetitive sound grates on my nerves, but I don't say anything. I won't give her the satisfaction of knowing she's getting to me.

She sighs, long and dramatic, like she's trying to get my attention.

I keep my eyes on my notes.

Another sigh.

Still, I don't look up.

"Riley," she finally drawls, her voice laced with exaggerated patience. "Are you always this boring, or do you just save it for me?"

I let out a slow breath. "I'm trying to work. You should try it sometime."

She grins. "Oh, I will. Eventually. But right now, I'm more interested in figuring you out."

I glance at her, unimpressed. "There's nothing to figure out."

Ava tilts her head, studying me with those sharp green eyes of hers. "See, I don't believe that. You're so good at keeping people at a distance. Always so controlled. But I don't think you're nearly as cold as you want people to think."

Her words shouldn't get under my skin, but they do.

Because she's not wrong.

I do keep people at a distance. It's easier that way. It keeps things simple. And yet, somehow, Ava Carter—my rival, of all people—is the one person who refuses to let me keep that distance.

She leans forward slightly, resting her chin on her hand. "I bet you've got all these little rules for yourself. Ways to make sure no one gets too close. But I wonder…" Her eyes flick over me, thoughtful. "What happens when someone breaks through them?"

I grip my pen tighter, keeping my face neutral. "You think you could?"

Ava smirks. "Oh, I know I could. If I wanted to."

The worst part? She might not be wrong about that, either.

I roll my shoulders, forcing my attention back to my notes. "Let's focus."

Ava watches me for a second longer, like she's deciding whether or not to keep pushing. Then she leans back in her chair, stretching her arms above her head.

I don't mean to look. I really don't.

But my traitorous gaze flickers—just for a moment—to the sliver of skin revealed as her shirt rides up. The smooth curve of her waist, the slight definition of her stomach.

It's nothing.

It's nothing.

And yet, heat crawls up my neck, and my pulse stumbles in a way I really don't like.

I force my gaze back to the table, gripping my pen like it might anchor me.

Ava doesn't miss a damn thing.

Her smirk is slow, victorious. "See something you like, Bennett?"

I exhale sharply through my nose. "You're exhausting."

She laughs, head tilting back, and for a moment, it's not teasing. It's just her. Bright, unapologetic, and completely unaware of the way she's unraveling me, thread by thread.

I should be annoyed.

I am annoyed.

But beneath that, something deeper stirs—something I refuse to name.

Because this is Ava Carter.

And I cannot afford to let her get under my skin.