Milo:

When my alarm blares Monday morning, a wave of nausea crashes over me, a tightening knot in my stomach. I can barely stomach the thought of presenting in front of the class, let alone being next to Ava. It feels impossible to know how to act now. Should I pretend that nothing happened? But did it really mean nothing? My mind spirals as I replay our last moments together, the taste of her lips still lingering in the corners of my thoughts.

As I settle into my desk in Algebra, I steal a glance at Ava. She's staring down at her notes, the tension in her shoulders as rigid as stone. Her fingers nervously trace the edge of her pencil, creating an unsteady rhythm that seems to match the rapid beat of my heart. The classroom hums with the chatter of students preparing for their own presentations, but it feels like there's a bubble of silence around us, isolating our shared discomfort. When it's finally our turn, we both rise, and I can feel the weight of the moment pressing down on me, her hesitant shuffling echoing my own unease.

I grip the edges of the poster board tightly, my palms clammy, anxiety coiling like a spring in my gut. The eyes of our classmates bore into us, their whispers fading as I focus on Ava, who stands a few feet away, her posture stiff and closed off.

"Um, so the first step in solving for X is isolating the variable," I say, my voice quivering slightly. I point at the first equation, desperately hoping to draw her into this moment, to find some connection amidst the chaos. But she still won't meet my gaze; her eyes are fixed on the floor, and I can feel the chasm between us widening.

"Can you explain how we derived the quadratic formula?" I prompt Ava, searching for anything, but her expression remains distant, lost in thought.

"Uh..." She shuffles through her notes quickly, her eyes scanning them hurridely as she tries to find the right section. "Sorry, hold on a second."

"Hold on?" I can't help how sharp my words sound, and Ava looks down pitifully. "This is a group project, Ava. I can't do all the talking while you just stand there, like you're not even here."

"I had other things to deal with," she snaps, finally lifting her gaze to meet mine. Her eyes spark with irritation, and I feel the heat radiating off her. "Not everyone can just dive into this stuff like you do."

"Maybe you should care a little bit more about what we're doing," I retort, my voice rising despite my efforts to keep it steady. "You can't just show up and expect me to do everything!"

"Care? You think I don't care?" She fires back, her voice laced with tension. "Maybe you don't see the bigger picture. Some of us have more on our plates than just this."

I scoff, crossing my arms across my chest defensively. "You never care. You're too busy running away from all of your problems to actually give a fuck."

In this charged moment, I take a step closer, caught in the intensity of her gaze. Time seems to slow, and the rest of the classroom fades away, like the world outside is on mute. For a fleeting moment, it's just us, the space around us blurring into a hazy background. I can see the flicker of something softer behind her anger, a hint of regret that pulls at my chest. "You don't understand," she says quietly, her tone shifting, revealing the cracks in her façade. "It's not as simple as you make it seem."

Before I can respond, Mr. Warren's voice cuts through the tension like a knife, snapping me back to reality. "Can we focus, please? As you mentioned, Milo, this is meant to be a group project." He shoots us both an irritated look, eyebrows furrowing in disapproval. "No more bickering. Present the material."

Ava rolls her eyes, the moment of vulnerability vanishing as she steps back, pulling away from me again. "Let's just get this over with," she says, her voice flat, her gaze avoiding mine like it's too heavy to bear. The air feels thick with unresolved tension, and my heart races in response to her withdrawal.

I feel my anxiety swell, the tightness in my chest growing as I turn to face the poster. "Right, sure," I mutter, wishing I could find the right words to bridge the gap between us. The weight of her silence hangs in the air, pressing down on me, and it feels like our shared moments have vanished into thin air, replaced by the sting of unspoken words.

As I start explaining the next steps, my voice trembles slightly, but I push through, trying to concentrate on the equations instead of the heat of Ava's presence. The class watches, their eyes flickering between us, but I feel lost in the space we once filled with ease, now overshadowed by our bitter words.

Ava's expression softens as she watches me speak, her fingers fidgeting with her notes, but she remains quiet, lost in thought. I can't shake the feeling that she's grappling with something deeper, a swirl of emotions we both seem too afraid to confront.

"Right, so to solve for X, we need to factor the equation," I say, the words stumbling out in a rush. My voice is surprisingly steady, but when I risk a glance at her, my focus falters. There's something unguarded in the way she's looking at me- conflict and regret swirling in her eyes like storm clouds. It's a glimpse I'm not supposed to see, a crack in her usual façade that sends a ripple of confusion through me, making my throat tighten. For a split second, I forget where I am. The classroom around us fades, the low murmur of our classmates' whispers dissolving into nothing. It's just her and me, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on us, the air thick with tension.

I catch myself staring, my train of thought derailing completely. My voice stutters to a stop, and I grip the edge of the poster board, grounding myself in the neat lines of algebraic equations scrawled across the paper. A faint heat rises to my cheeks, and I clear my throat, forcing myself to continue as if I didn't just lose my cool in front of the entire class.

Mr. Warren gives a hesitant nod when we finish, his gaze lingering on us with a furrowed brow. The classroom buzzes with low chatter as we return to our seats, and I can feel the curious stares burning into my back. People murmur quietly to one another, trying to piece together what just happened, but I refuse to look up, refusing to acknowledge the scrutiny. My fingers curl into fists beneath the desk. How did I let her get to me like that? She's just so... infuriating.

The bell rings after a few more projects are presented, a shrill sound that jolts me out of my thoughts. I stand a little too quickly, the scrape of my chair loud in the sudden silence. Ava lingers beside me, hesitating for a fraction of a second before she brushes past. Her arm grazes mine, the barest touch that sends a jolt of electricity racing through my veins. It's deliberate- too deliberate to be a mistake -and I feel my pulse spike.

She's almost out the door when she stops abruptly, her shoulders tensing. I nearly collide with her back, stumbling to a halt.

"Woah-" I mutter, holding up my hands in surrender, as if she's some skittish animal I might startle. She turns around slowly, her teeth nibbling at her bottom lip.. My eyes catch on the motion, and I swallow hard, my gaze flitting back to hers.

"I'm sorry," she breathes out, so softly it's almost drowned out by the noise in the hallway. There's something raw and unguarded in her tone, something that tugs at the ache in my chest. But before I can respond, she's gone- disappearing into the crowd of students, her hair a blonde blur against the sea of faces. I stand there, rooted to the spot, the word sorry echoing in my head.

Mr. Warren catches my eye as I try to slip out the door, his expression unreadable. "Milo, I just wanted to say... I'll be grading you and Ava separately, despite this being a group project. I saw how much effort you put in."

I nod, barely listening, my thoughts still tangled in the memory of Ava's fleeting touch. "Ava did plan out the entire layout," I mumble, unable to let her take the blame completely. "I just... did the rest."

He gives me a sympathetic smile, patting my shoulder briefly before retreating to his desk. The walk to my locker stretches out like an eternity, every step weighed down by the words I didn't say. I know she said she needed space- needed time -but what does that even mean? How much time? What was I supposed to do with the mess she left behind?

It's not just commitment issues. That's too simple. She's got walls- impenetrable walls -and I have no idea how to break through them. I've seen a glimpse of her home life. Her mom's a nightmare, clearly, and there's been no mention of her dad. She keeps herself locked up tight, like she's protecting something fragile and cracked beneath the surface.

The weeks that follow blur together in a fog of confusion and disappointment, each one bleeding into the next as if the fight in front of the class and her soft apology afterward never happened. She left me standing there, utterly thrown off-balance by that tiny sliver of vulnerability she showed, only to shut me out again as quickly as she'd let me in.

I keep my distance, out of respect for her boundaries, but every time I catch a glimpse of her across the classroom, something inside me clenches painfully. She's back to her usual self- or at least, she's pretending to be. Laughing with Lexi, tossing her hair over her shoulder like nothing's changed. I watch her move through our shared spaces as though everything's back to normal, but I can't shake the feeling that it's all just a performance. That underneath it all, she's still wrestling with the same turmoil she showed me that day.

But she's good- so good at putting on a show for everyone else. She answers questions with her usual biting wit, smiles easily at the people who call her name, and looks every bit like the confident girl I used to think I understood. Yet there are cracks I notice- small, almost imperceptible tells that she's not as unaffected as she wants everyone to believe. The way her eyes avoid mine whenever we're in the same room, how her smile falters when she thinks no one's watching. Each moment, each subtle shift, only deepens the confusion, tangling me further in the web of what-ifs.

Has she thought about that day at all? About the warmth of her body pressed against mine, the way her skin felt under my fingertips, soft and electrifying. I remember the shiver that ran through her when I traced the curve of her waist, the breathy gasps that escaped her lips at my whispered words. But did it really all mean nothing?

The uncertainty gnaws at me, twisting everything inside until I don't know what to feel anymore. I want to be angry at her for shutting me out, for making me question every interaction we've ever had. But mostly, I just feel hollow. Because for one fleeting moment, I thought I'd finally gotten through to her. That I'd seen a glimpse of something real beneath all those layers she hides behind..

I let the days drift by, pretending I'm okay with it- keeping myself busy so I don't dwell too much on the sinking feeling that's become all too familiar. Still, I can't stop the way my gaze seeks her out, searching for answers I know I won't find. Whenever I see her with Lexi, a pang of something- jealousy, bitterness, maybe even longing- flashes through me. I can't help but wonder if Ava talks to her about me. If she confides in her about what happened, about how it ended. Does she tell Lexi she's sorry, or does she brush it off like it's nothing?

There are times when I catch her looking at me from across the room, her expression clouded with something that almost looks like guilt before she quickly glances away. Is it regret? Remorse? I wish I could read her mind, could drag her somewhere private and demand to know what the hell she's thinking- what she's feeling. But I don't. Instead, I just watch and wait, hoping for some kind of sign that I wasn't just imagining it all

The day before Thanksgiving break, I'm sitting alone at lunch when she slides into the seat across from me. There's no Lexi, no entourage, just Ava- looking small and worn out, like a shadow of the girl I know. Her hair hangs limply around her face, and dark smudges bruise the skin beneath her eyes. Her lips are raw, split from where she keeps biting at them. She still looks like a goddess, despite it all.

"Can we talk?" She asks, her voice barely more than a whisper, like she's afraid it might shatter in the air between us.

I hesitate, my gaze searching her face. "Sure," I manage, my voice tight. The cafeteria around us fades into background noise as I zero in on the nervous way she keeps swallowing.

"I'm... really sorry for how everything played out," she starts, reaching across the table hesitantly. Her fingers brush against mine, cool and trembling, and the touch sends a shiver down my spine. "I shouldn't have reacted like that. It was wrong of me to just... discard you like that."

"Yeah," I mutter, bitterness creeping into my tone. I shift back in my seat, her touch leaving a cold spot on my skin. "Sorry for expecting anything from you. That's my bad."

She flinches, retracting her hand like I've slapped her. Her gaze drops to the table, shoulders hunching inward. "I'm not good with... feelings," she murmurs, barely audible. "I can't remember the last time I was in an actual relationship. I don't know how to... not run away. It's not you- it's... me."

A humorless laugh slips out, sharp and cutting. "How cliché," I mutter, pushing my chair back, but her hand darts out, gripping my hand tightly.

"I wasn't finished," she snaps, voice shaking slightly. She takes a deep breath, her chest rising and falling slowly as she steadies herself. "There's something... different about you. You make me feel things I didn't think I was capable of feeling, and I literally cannot stop thinking about my party..."

My heart pounds erratically as she bites her bottom lip, eyes flickering to mine with an almost desperate intensity. For a moment, I worry this is just a ploy- to get back into my pants, to use me again. I can't get hurt like that all over again. It would destroy me. "If you want to do this, for real, we need to take it slow. No more sex until, like, the third date," I blurt out, the words tumbling out before I can stop them.

Ava lets out a small groan, throwing her head back dramatically. "You know, most guys would be begging for me to take them back," she grumbles, the ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

"Yeah, well, I'm not most guys," I reply softly, a reluctant smile curving my own lips. The tension between us eases, the air growing lighter. We have this pattern- hating each other, liking each other, and I worry how long that will cycle through. I hope it ends, right here, right now.

"That's the problem," Ava mutters, her cheeks dusted a soft pink as she glances down at the floor. "I make men flustered, not the other way around."

I can't help but chuckle, scooting a little closer. The scent of her perfume drifts over me- something vanilla and sweet -and I'm immediately pulled back to that night, the feel of her skin against mine. It's almost too much, the memories flooding my senses, but I force myself to focus.

She looks up at me, something fragile and hopeful in her expression, and I wonder if maybe- just maybe -she's as scared as I am.

"Can I take you on a date?" I ask, my voice trembling with nerves. I've never done this before, especially with someone as beautiful as Ava. "Wherever you want to go, we can."

Her face gets even redder, if possible, and she looks away, her eyes distant. I worry she's going to shoot me down, say she needs even more time, but she just nods, glancing at me. "I'd like that," she says hesitantly, her fingers picking at the skin around her nails, tugging anxiously. "But, I want you to pick. I feel like that will say a lot about you as a partner."

I can't help the grin that settles on my lips, and I lean back, arms crossed over my chest. "So what I'm hearing is Chuck E. Cheese," I joke, earning an eye roll and a shove. "Hey, it's where all the cool kids go. I figure you'd fit right in."

Ava laughs, and the sound warms my chest, my heart growing three sizes. "This is what I get for liking a weirdo," she grumbles, and her eyes widen at her own admission.

"Like me, huh?" I push, though I'd be lying if I said I wasn't fucking terrified. Our chemistry has always been undeniable, but this is real now.

The small blonde scoffs, flipping her hair over her shoulder dramatically. "Freudian slip," she mumbles, her cheeks tinged pink. "Whatever, go ahead, bask in it. That's the last time I ever mention my feelings again."

Hesitantly, I drape an arm over her shoulder, grinning down at her. "I don't know, seems like I just need to get you slightly tipsy and you just talk freely," I joke, trying not to scream as she rests her head against my shoulder.

Ava laughs, but doesn't say much, just allows us to sit like this, quietly enjoying the other's company. The bell rings a few moments later, and it takes us both a second to move, our body heat mingling playfully.

We weave through the crowded hallway, our shoulders brushing every few steps, and I can't help but ask, "Where's Lexi?" Just as the words leave my mouth, she materializes from somewhere in the sea of students.

"Oh, there you are," I say, giving her a small nod. She falls into step beside us, her expression calm but her gaze sharper than usual, like she's assessing something unspoken between us.

"Hey," Lexi drawls, her smile polite and controlled. There's a flicker of something else- something fleeting -in the way her eyes flit between us, but it's gone as quickly as it appeared. I barely catch it before she turns her attention back to Ava, her tone teasing but a little too smooth. "You two were taking forever. Didn't know if I'd have to go hunt you down."

Ava rolls her eyes, but her posture softens at the sight of her best friend. She reaches over and punches Lexi lightly on the arm, a grin tugging at her lips. "Yeah, yeah. Not another word."

Lexi doesn't respond right away. Instead, she just raises an eyebrow, a faint, knowing smile hovering at the corner of her lips. "Wouldn't dream of it," she murmurs, her voice gentle. Her gaze lingers on Ava for a beat longer than necessary before she glances away, shifting her weight almost imperceptibly closer to her.

The three of us walk in silence toward our lockers, and I can feel Lexi's presence beside Ava, a quiet, almost protective aura around her. When Ava falls back beside me for a moment, reaching for her books, Lexi's gaze sharpens again, her smile turning just the slightest bit strained.

"So... we should get together after Thanksgiving," Ava says softly, glancing at me, her voice breaking through the tension like a warm breeze. "Figure out where you want to go."

Her fingers brush against my arm, lingering for a heartbeat before she pulls away. Lexi's eyes follow the movement, the faintest twitch of her lips betraying something- something too subtle to name. But then she's turning away, as if dismissing the whole thing.

"Catch you later," Lexi says, a wry note in her tone as she drifts back a step, letting me and Ava have just enough space to say our goodbyes, though she stays close, always there on the periphery. I watch as Ava gravitates back toward her best friend, the two of them falling into an easy rhythm, their heads leaning in close.

And just like that, I'm left standing alone, the warmth of Ava's touch still buzzing under my skin. As they disappear down the hall, Lexi glances back once- just once -with that polite smile still plastered on her face, though something in her eyes looks almost... hollow. It's such a small thing, so subtle I almost convince myself I imagined it. She's probably just worried about how this will go- knows how Ava is in this type of situation. After all, she's a really great friend.

I can't shake the tiny smile that plays on my lips for the rest of the day, floating by on a cloud. When I get home, I'll plan out the perfect date, make it so incredible she'll never second guess her decision.