Chapter 4 – Riley

Ava might think she's subtle.

She's not.

I caught her staring at least three times during our study session, and the way she stormed out of the library? That was pure, undeniable frustration. The kind that has nothing to do with school and everything to do with something else.

Something she doesn't want to admit.

And for some reason, that makes me want to push her.

I don't know when this started. When the rivalry between us stopped being just about grades, competition, and who could get under the other's skin first.

But it's different now.

There's something beneath it.

Something sharp, something charged.

And it's not just me who feels it.

Ava does too.

Even if she refuses to acknowledge it.

By the time I catch up to her outside, she's already halfway across campus, her bag slung over one shoulder, her pace fast and determined.

I smirk. "Running away?"

Ava stops dead in her tracks.

Slowly, she turns, her expression set in a glare. "I'm walking away, actually."

"Looked like running to me."

She exhales sharply, like she's praying for patience. "Is there a reason you followed me?"

I shrug. "You left so suddenly. Thought maybe you were in a hurry to get back to Chelsea."

Ava's jaw tightens. "Are you seriously bringing her up again?"

I raise an eyebrow. "You're the one who dated her."

She groans, raking a hand through her hair. "That was forever ago."

"She doesn't seem to think so."

Her glare deepens, but there's something else behind it now.

Something like hesitation.

I take a step closer.

Ava doesn't back away.

Interesting.

"You can tell me," I murmur, tilting my head. "Why'd you two break up?"

Ava scoffs. "Like I'd ever talk about my ex with you."

"So, she dumped you?"

Her eyes flash. "I dumped her."

Now that gets my attention.

"Huh," I say, crossing my arms. "Didn't see that coming."

Ava lets out a bitter laugh. "Yeah, well. Chelsea has this thing where she likes control. And I don't do control."

There's an edge to her voice, something almost vulnerable hiding beneath the usual fire.

And suddenly, I don't feel like teasing anymore.

I watch her for a moment, letting the words settle between us.

"You made the right call," I say quietly.

Ava blinks, caught off guard. "What?"

I shrug. "Chelsea's a control freak. You'd never let someone like that own you."

She stares at me, something unreadable in her gaze.

Then, almost begrudgingly, she mutters, "Damn right."

I chuckle. "See? We do agree on things sometimes."

She rolls her eyes, but she doesn't walk away.

Instead, she stands there, watching me like she's trying to figure something out.

And I should say something.

I should keep the teasing going, keep things light.

But instead, I hear myself say, "You know, you really don't have to prove anything to her."

Ava stiffens slightly. "I'm not."

I just look at her.

She exhales, looking away. "I'm not," she repeats, but this time, her voice is quieter.

Less certain.

I don't press her.

Because I think, deep down, she already knows the truth.

She's spent so long trying to outrun whatever Chelsea left behind.

But she doesn't have to.

Not with me.

The thought is unsettling.

Because it's one thing to push Ava's buttons. To tease her, to challenge her, to compete with her.

But it's another thing entirely to care.

And I think—no, I know—I'm starting to care.

More than I should.

More than I ever meant to.

And that?

That's dangerous.

Chapter 4 – Riley

Her back is stiff, shoulders tense as she walks ahead, and I can tell she's still trying to shake off the encounter with Chelsea. I follow her, not quite sure why I feel the need to do so, but something in me compels me to keep pace.

I can hear the slight exhale of frustration from Ava, but she doesn't speed up. She doesn't pull away, even as I match her stride, close enough now that I could reach out and touch her if I wanted.

I don't.

But it's hard not to notice how the sun catches her hair, how she tucks a loose strand behind her ear, and how something in me stirs at the simplicity of it.

I can't explain why I'm even feeling this.

Maybe it's because of how much I love to get under her skin.

Maybe it's because I've watched her for months, seeing the walls she's built around herself. She's too proud to admit how much Chelsea hurt her, but I know. I can see it. I know exactly how it feels to have someone like that twist your world upside down.

The question is whether Ava will ever let go of the past.

And if I'm honest, I wonder if she'll let me in at all.

"Do you always run off after one conversation?" I ask, my voice cutting through the tense air between us.

She halts, glancing over her shoulder at me, eyes sharp with suspicion. "I wasn't running off," she says, the defensive edge clear in her voice.

"I didn't say you were."

Ava's gaze narrows. "You're following me."

The truth hits harder than I expect. I pause for a moment, considering how to phrase it without making it sound like I'm stalking her. "I just thought you looked like you needed someone to talk to."

Her lips twitch, and she turns back around, walking again, though slower now. "Yeah, I'm sure that's it."

There's that sarcasm again, but underneath it, something else.

"I get it," I add quickly. "You don't want help, and you don't want to talk about Chelsea. But you don't have to pretend it doesn't bother you."

Ava's silence stretches out, and for a brief second, I think she's going to tell me to get lost. Instead, she just huffs. "Why do you care?"

I almost answer before I can stop myself. "Because I know what it feels like to get played by someone like that."

Her eyes flick back to me, and there's a brief, flickering moment where I think she might actually break. But she doesn't.

Instead, she pulls her shoulders back, raising her chin slightly. "I'm not you, Riley."

For a moment, I'm stunned by how she's saying it, as if I'm the one who needs something.

And then I realize.

She's never let anyone close enough to see that part of her.

Shit.

I feel a sting of frustration. Does she really think I'm just going to let it slide?

Maybe if I weren't so goddamn stubborn, I'd let it go. But I can't.

"Maybe," I say quietly, "but I know you're still holding onto something. And it's not doing you any favors."

Ava's face shifts again, but it's not anger anymore.

Something else.

"Drop it, Riley," she mutters, her voice softer, though her gaze is sharp again, pointed and guarded. "I don't need your advice."

The words sting, but they don't surprise me. This is how she deals with everything—by shutting it all down before it can hurt her.

And honestly, I think it works for her most of the time.

But not with me.

Not anymore.

"I'm not trying to give you advice," I say, trying to keep my tone steady. "I just want to make sure you don't have to do it all alone."

For a second, she looks like she might say something else. But she doesn't. Instead, she looks away, her gaze shifting somewhere off in the distance.

It's strange, the way silence stretches between us, thick and uncomfortable, but it's also… familiar. Like this is how we've always been, just circling around each other, never quite getting close enough to figure each other out.

But for some reason, today feels different.

I take a step closer, but I keep my distance. "Ava..."

She stops, turning her head slightly to meet my gaze, but she doesn't speak.

And I realize then that maybe I don't need to say anything at all.

She knows.

We both know.

But neither of us is ready to face it.

The silence between us lingers, charged with something unspoken.

I don't know what I expect her to say. Maybe an insult, maybe a half-hearted attempt to brush me off. Ava never lets anyone see her vulnerable, and I doubt she's about to start now.

But she surprises me.

"I don't need anyone to make sure I'm okay," she finally mutters.

It should be the end of the conversation.

But it's not.

Because the way she says it—like she's had to prove that to people before—sticks in my head.

"Maybe not," I admit, tilting my head slightly. "But I think you want someone to."

Ava laughs dryly. "Wow. You really love to hear yourself talk, huh?"

The teasing should make me roll my eyes, maybe even let her walk away. But instead, I step closer, watching the way her jaw tightens at my proximity.

She's tense, but she's not pulling away.

"You say that," I murmur, lowering my voice just slightly, "but you haven't left yet."

Her throat bobs as she swallows. "Maybe I just like proving you wrong."

That makes me smirk. "Yeah? Then prove me wrong right now. Walk away."

Ava's eyes flicker, her fingers gripping the strap of her bag a little tighter.

I see it—that hesitation, that tiny moment where she's considering staying.

And maybe it's reckless, but I push just a little further.

"Unless," I say, voice softer now, "you like this just as much as I do."

Ava exhales sharply, turning away like she's trying to gather herself, but I don't miss the way her hand twitches, like she almost reached for me before stopping herself.

And then, just as quickly as the moment appears, she shuts it down.

"You're infuriating," she mutters, running a hand through her hair before finally—finally—walking away.

But this time, I don't chase after her.

I don't need to.

Because for the first time since I met Ava, I know I've gotten under her skin.

And I have a feeling this is far from over.