Chapter 7 – Ava

I don't stop walking until I'm back in my dorm.

Even then, my pulse is still racing. My thoughts are still tangled. My body is still on edge.

Because of her.

I slam the door behind me, leaning against it and squeezing my eyes shut.

I hate this.

I hate that Riley can get under my skin with a look. That a few teasing words from her can send my whole body into fight-or-flight mode. That she can make my stomach flip in a way that has nothing to do with anger and everything to do with something I refuse to name.

I throw my bag onto my desk, yanking off my jacket.

I need to shake this off.

I need to stop letting Riley fucking Knight ruin my entire day.

My phone buzzes.

I don't even check it. I already know it's Mia, my best friend and roommate, probably asking where I ran off to. She was still inside the café when I bailed, and I'm sure she saw the entire thing.

I sigh, running a hand through my hair.

There's a knock at the door.

"Ava?"

Speak of the devil.

"Go away, Mia," I mumble.

The door opens anyway.

"Not how this works, babe," Mia says, stepping inside and shutting the door behind her. She crosses her arms, giving me a once-over. "Jesus. You look like you saw a ghost."

I groan, flopping onto my bed. "Worse. I saw Riley."

Mia snorts. "And?"

I don't answer.

Because what the hell am I supposed to say?

That my so-called rival got too close today? That her voice in my ear, low and teasing, made my skin burn in a way that had nothing to do with hatred? That when she leaned in, when her breath tickled my neck, I wanted to close the distance instead of pushing her away?

Absolutely not.

"Ava." Mia's voice is softer now. "You're freaking out."

"I am not," I lie, face buried in my pillow.

Mia sighs. I feel the bed dip as she sits beside me. "You like her."

I lift my head just enough to glare at her. "No, I don't."

Mia smirks. "Okay. Then why are you acting like you just had a religious experience?"

I throw a pillow at her.

She dodges it effortlessly. "Admit it," she presses. "You and Riley? You thrive off this tension. And maybe—just maybe—it's not as one-sided as you think."

I groan again, rolling onto my back and staring at the ceiling. "It doesn't matter."

Mia raises a brow. "Why not?"

I bite my lip. I can't tell her the real reason—not yet.

That I'm scared. That Riley is dangerous in a way that has nothing to do with our rivalry and everything to do with the way she makes me feel.

So instead, I shake my head. "Because she's Riley."

Mia just hums. "And you're Ava. And maybe that's the whole damn point."

I squeeze my eyes shut.

Because that's exactly what I'm afraid of.

Mia doesn't drop it.

Of course, she doesn't.

She stays right where she is, watching me with that knowing smirk that makes me want to throw something at her.

"Ava," she says, voice dragging out my name like she's trying to pull the confession straight out of me. "I don't get why you're fighting this so hard."

I groan, rolling onto my side so I don't have to look at her. "Because it's Riley."

"So?"

I grit my teeth. "So, she's my rival—"

"She's your obsession," Mia corrects, and that makes me freeze.

I turn back to her, narrowing my eyes. "Excuse me?"

Mia shrugs, completely unbothered. "You think about her all the time, Ava. You talk about her all the time. You let her live in your damn head rent-free, and honestly? At this point, I'm wondering if it's even hate or just really aggressive foreplay."

I stare at her. "Are you insane?"

"Am I?" She leans back on her elbows, tilting her head at me. "Come on. If Riley weren't Riley, if she weren't the person you've been competing with since, like, forever… would you still feel this way?"

I open my mouth—

Then close it.

Because I don't know.

If Riley weren't my rival, if we hadn't spent years throwing sarcastic remarks and sharp glares at each other, would I still get this rush every time we're near each other? Would I still feel my skin heat up when she gets too close?

Would I still feel this ache—this ridiculous, restless ache—whenever she's not around?

I don't like the answer that forms in my head.

"See?" Mia says, reading my silence like a damn book. "You don't actually hate her. You just don't know what to do with the fact that you might—"

"Don't," I interrupt sharply.

She just grins. "What? That you might actually like her?"

I sit up, grabbing the closest thing—a notebook—and hurling it at her.

Mia yelps, laughing as she dodges. "Ooh, violent. You really do have feelings for her."

"Get out!" I groan, grabbing another notebook.

Mia hops off my bed, still smirking. "I'm just saying… You can lie to yourself all you want, Ava. But your body language? Your reactions? The way you ran out of that café like your life depended on it?"

She winks. "Yeah. I'm calling bullshit."

She's gone before I can throw another notebook.

I flop back against my pillow, heart pounding.

Because she's right.

And that's the problem.

I stare at the ceiling long after Mia leaves, trying to shove down the lingering heat in my chest.

This isn't happening.

It can't be happening.

There's no version of reality where I let myself feel something for Riley Knight—where I let myself want her.

But Mia's words won't leave me alone.

"You let her live in your damn head rent-free."

I hate how true that is.

It's always been like this. Ever since our first argument, our first competition, our first clash over something so stupid I don't even remember what it was. It never mattered what we were fighting over, only that we were fighting.

That we always had something between us.

That I could never think about anything else when she was in the room.

I sit up abruptly, pushing my hands through my hair. This isn't something I can let spiral out of control. I need to shake this off. I need a distraction.

Grabbing my phone, I scroll through my notifications. A few messages from Mia, probably gloating. A reminder about an upcoming project. A text from—

I freeze.

No.

No way.

Riley.

My pulse kicks up against my will.

I stare at the notification like it might explode, my thumb hovering over the screen.

Why the hell is she texting me?

Riley never texts me.

The last time we communicated through messages was when we were paired for a class project last semester, and even then, our texts were painfully to the point.

I take a slow breath and finally open it.

Riley: You okay?

What the hell?

I frown. Of all the things she could have texted, this is what she sent? Not a sarcastic remark, not some smug comment about how she got under my skin—just…

You okay?

I don't know how to respond to that.

I don't know if I want to.

My fingers twitch over the keyboard. I start typing, then delete it. Start again, delete it again.

I'm overthinking.

But that's the problem—I always overthink when it comes to Riley.

Finally, I just type:

Me: Why do you care?

A few seconds later, the little typing bubble pops up.

Then disappears.

Then pops up again.

Then stops.

I hold my breath, staring at the screen.

Finally, her response comes through.

Riley: I don't.

Liar.

But before I can respond, another message pops up.

Riley: Forget I asked.

I don't know why that makes my stomach twist.

I should let it go.

I should absolutely let it go.

Instead, my fingers move before I can stop them.

Me: Too late for that.

I hit send before I can second-guess it, then drop my phone onto my bed like it might burn me.

My heart is pounding.

Because I know Riley.

I know this isn't over.

My phone stays on my bed, face down, while I try to pretend I don't care.

I fail.

My eyes keep drifting back to it. My thoughts keep circling back to Riley. To the way she looked at me earlier, the way her voice dipped when she got close. To the way I felt something when she leaned in—something that wasn't just anger, something I don't want to name.

I squeeze my eyes shut.

This is so stupid.

This is so stupid.

I shouldn't be sitting here, overanalyzing one short conversation and a text message. I shouldn't be wondering what she meant by it—if she actually cared, even for a second.

Because Riley doesn't care.

She never has.

That's how this works.

I exhale sharply, shaking my head as if that'll clear my thoughts. It doesn't. Instead, my phone buzzes again, and my pulse jumps before I can stop it.

I grab it faster than I want to admit.

Riley: You left your notebook at the café.

My breath catches.

Damn it.

I knew I was missing something. In my rush to get away from her, I must've left it on the table. That notebook has everything—class notes, assignments, even random sketches in the margins.

I hesitate before typing back.

Me: And you have it?

Her reply is instant.

Riley: Yeah.

I chew my lip, staring at the screen.

I should just tell her to drop it off with Mia or leave it somewhere I can grab it later. That would be the smart thing to do. The safe thing.

But then another text comes through.

Riley: Want me to bring it to you?

I swear my stomach flips.

I shouldn't say yes.

I know I shouldn't say yes.

But against my better judgment, I type:

Me: Fine.

I hit send before I can change my mind, before I can overthink what this means, before I can acknowledge the weird anticipation curling in my chest.

A few seconds later, my phone buzzes again.

Riley: Be there in 10.

Shit.

I scramble up from my bed, running a hand through my hair. Why the hell did I agree to this? Why am I acting like this is a big deal? It's not. She's just dropping off my notebook. That's it.

And yet, my hands are shaking.

And yet, my heartbeat is way too fast.

I grab a hoodie off my chair, throwing it on as if that'll make me feel more in control. As if Riley won't walk through that door and make everything spin sideways again.

A knock at the door.

I freeze.

Then, slowly, I cross the room and open it.

Riley stands there, my notebook in hand, expression unreadable. Her dark eyes flick over me, and for a second—just a second—there's something there. Something I recognize.

Something I'm not ready to face.

"Hey," she says, voice lower than usual.

I swallow hard. "Hey."

And I realize, with a terrible certainty, that nothing between us is simple anymore.

I don't move right away.

Riley stands there, notebook in one hand, the other tucked into the pocket of her hoodie. The hallway light casts a shadow across her face, making her expression even harder to read.

I should just take the notebook and be done with this.

That's the logical thing to do.

Instead, I hesitate, gripping the edge of the doorframe like it'll keep me steady. "You really didn't have to bring it."

Her lips twitch, like she's about to smirk, but she doesn't. "Yeah, well… figured you'd want it back sooner rather than later."

Something about the way she says it makes my stomach twist. There's no teasing in her voice, no sarcasm—just something quieter, something I don't know how to name.

I reach for the notebook, but Riley doesn't let go immediately.

Our fingers brush.

It's barely a touch—nothing, really. But it's enough to send a sharp jolt through me, enough to make me stiffen. And I know Riley felt it too, because her breath catches.

For a second, we're just… frozen.

Neither of us moves, neither of us looks away.

The tension stretches between us, pulling tighter and tighter, until it's almost unbearable.

Then Riley clears her throat and finally releases the notebook, stepping back like she needs space. "Well," she says, her voice a little rough. "Try not to lose it again, yeah?"

I clutch the notebook against my chest, nodding once. "Yeah. Sure."

She lingers for half a second longer, eyes flicking to mine like she wants to say something else.

Then she turns to leave.

And I should let her.

I should.

But before I can stop myself, my mouth opens. "Riley—"

She pauses mid-step, looking back over her shoulder. "Yeah?"

My throat goes dry.

I don't even know what I was going to say. I just know that I don't want her to walk away yet.

I scramble for something, anything. "Why did you text me earlier?"

Her expression shifts, lips pressing together. "I told you. You left your notebook—"

"No," I cut in, gripping the notebook tighter. "Before that. When you asked if I was okay."

Riley is quiet for a long moment.

Then she exhales, rubbing the back of her neck. "I don't know. You just… you looked weird when you left. Like something was bothering you."

Something about the way she says it makes my chest ache.

"So?" I push, trying to ignore the way my pulse is hammering. "Why do you care?"

Riley holds my gaze, her jaw tightening. "I don't."

But it's a lie.

I know it's a lie.

I see it in the way she shifts on her feet, in the way she won't quite meet my eyes.

And for the first time, I realize—she's just as unsettled by this as I am.

That should make me feel better.

It doesn't.

It just makes everything feel heavier.

Riley lets out a breath and shakes her head. "Forget it, Ava." Then, before I can say anything else, she turns and walks away, disappearing down the hall.

I stand there long after she's gone, heart pounding, head spinning, notebook still clutched in my hands.

I don't know what just happened.

But I do know one thing—

This is getting dangerous.