Milo:

The sun's just starting to set, casting everything in that annoying golden glow people get all sentimental over. I'm slumped on a creaky old bench, hoodie pulled tight like it's a shield. My textbook is open on my lap, but the words aren't really sticking. Not that they ever do. My head pounds at the same time as my heart, nervous for what's going to come.

And then, like clockwork, she's there. Ava. Her blonde hair nearly glimmers under the golden light of the sun, her long eyelashes casting shadows over her tiny freckles. A large white poster board hangs under her arm, nearly as tall as her. She looks up at me, pursing her lips as she gets closer.

"You made it," she says, in that light, teasing tone she always uses. Even through the sarcasm I can sense a tinge of nervousness in her tone.

My eyes flick up, just briefly. I shrug nonchalantly, though I'm positive she can hear my heart beating through my t-shirt. "Yeah, well, we've got a project to finish."

Ava sits beside me, her sweater nearly swallowing her whole as she settles in. "It is a huge part of our grade."

I lean back, feeling the bench groan under me, my eyes drifting to a couple of kids kicking a soccer ball around. For a second, I'm not there, the sounds of the park easing my mind. "You're probably more worried about the grade than I am."

She rolls her eyes- classic Ava move -but it's less sharp this time, more out of habit. "Something tells me you care more than you let on, Milo."

I don't respond right away, distracted by the light catches the windows of some building far off. I should really take my ADHD meds more often... I tap my fingers on the textbook like it'll help me focus, keep me grounded. But something about today's different. The tension between us is still there, but it's quieter, like the park's swallowed it up.

Ava pulls out her notes, pretending she's all about business, but I can feel the way she keeps looking at me, like she's trying to figure something out. "You know, you don't always have to act like everything's the worst," she says, her voice cutting through the silence.

I turn my head just enough to meet her eyes, my hair flopping over my brows. There's a flicker of something on her face- curiosity maybe, making my lips twitch, but I manage to keep the smirk at bay. "And you don't always have to pretend everything's perfect."

She laughs, and it's a real, not that fake cheerleader laugh she does when she's 'trying to be polite.' "Fair enough."

For a moment, it's like the usual battle between us fades, replaced by this weird calm. The sounds of the park, the kids playing, birds chirping- it all feels distant, like we're in our own little bubble. And for once, being stuck working with her doesn't seem so terrible.

She clears her throat, a little softer now. "Let's just focus on the project, okay? We're stuck together, so we might as well make the best of it."

I watch her for a second longer than I probably should, something twisting in my gut that I don't fully understand. Then I nod. "Alright. But no boy talk, and not one cheerleader pep talks. I will kill myself in front of you."

She grins and nudges me, just barely, like it's not a big deal. "I make no promises."

I huff, almost a laugh, and for a split second, it's like the air around us lightens. The project's still there, but it feels like we've forgotten it for a minute, like maybe this isn't as bad as I thought it'd be. When we finally decide to start working, we move from the bench to a table, so we can lay out our supplies.

"If you're here, does that mean you're kicked off the team?" I ask Ava as we move, carrying the poster board under my arm.

She laughs, shaking her head. "No, thank god. But, they did suspend me for the next three games. Which, like, whatever I guess. But get this-" She punctuates her sentence with a sharp smack to my arm, and I rub it out dramatically, feigning injury. "-Riley is also suspended for being a cunt!"

The unexpected use of the word 'cunt' causes a small chuckle to erupt from my throat, and I shake my head. We arrive at a table a moment later, spreading our project stuff out. The wind decides now is the best time to give it all it's got, snatching the poster board from my grip and sending it tumbling through the air.

Ava lets out a strangled yelp, before chasing the poster board with all her might. I settle back on the seat and watch in amusement, upset I don't have a bucket of popcorn to really complete the experience. She chases it through the grass, every single time she's close to getting, it slips away again.

"What the fuck!" I hear her yell, finally managing to leap forward and snatch the board from its fleeting escape. A group of moms with their kids shoot her incredulous glares, and she offers a small, apologetic wave as she scurries back to the table, slightly out of breath. She plops down beside me, her expression a mix of irritation and exhaustion. "I hate you."

I give her a deadpan look, raising an eyebrow. "I'm not the wind. I had no control over it blowing away the poster board."

With a huff, Ava places her purse on top of the board to anchor it down, redirecting her glare back at me. "You didn't even try to help," she complains, crossing her arms across her chest.

A tiny grin pulls on my lips, and I lean back in my seat again. "You looked like you had it under control. And you did. Good job."

She rolls her eyes, exasperated but not fully angry, the tension between us shifting slightly. "No thanks to you," she grumbles, just as the wind picks up again. This time, Ava nearly throws herself onto the board, a small scream escaping her lips as she flattens it against the table to prevent another escape attempt.

I can't help but laugh at the sight of Ava clinging to the poster board like it's a lifeline, and I stand up, gently but nervously nudging her off it so I can grab it. Her skin feels soft beneath my fingers, and the scent of her vanilla perfume wafts up as I push her aside. Every inch of me feels like it's on fire, and I swallow hard, trying to tamp down the odd emotions brewing in my stomach.

Ava quirks an eyebrow up at me, but doesn't protest as I secure the board. "Where are you going?" She asks, grabbing her purse and standing with me.

"As funny as it was to watch you chase after this," I start, grinning slightly as she huffs, "we're going to have the worst time if we try to do this here."

"Where do you think we should go, then?" Ava asks, her short legs trying to keep up with me as I stride towards the parking lot.

I shrug, looking down at her. "Library?" I ask, shoving my hand in my pocket to fish out my keys. When I do, I walk to my car and manually unlock, because why would my truck's fob actually work, right?

Ava's nose scrunches up at my suggestion, shaking her head quickly. "Oh, god no," she grumbles, as if I just suggested going to the morgue to do it. "Also, I think they might arrest me if I step foot in there. I used a couple different emails to sign up for a library card... And then I may or may not have taken out several books and forgotten to take them back..."

"Oh, my god, Ava," I say with a surprised laugh, leaning against the side of my truck as I shake my head. She grins at me, her eyes trailing up and down my frame, sending an unexpected shudder down my spine. "I could turn you into the police- collect a nice little bounty."

She laughs, shoving me again. God, aggressive much? "The library is, like, a forty minute walk from my house. I'm not doing that twice."

"How do you not have a car?" I ask, raising an eyebrow at her. "I mean, even I have a car, and my apartment has, like, three pieces of furniture maximum."

Ava's face shifts suddenly, twisting with an emotion I can't quite place. She looks down, and the lightness that was between us sours, leaving me kicking myself for ruining the mood. "My mom won't get me a car, and she also won't let me work, so... Unless I start panhandling, a car isn't in my future until after we graduate." She forces a smile on her face, rolling her eyes. "It's not a huge deal. Lexi takes me most places, and walking everywhere keeps me in shape."

My heart pangs at the confession, and I can't help the frown that forms on my face. "That... sucks. I'm sorry."

She shifts her weight, her shoulders rolling in a slow shrug as her gaze drops back down. We've been standing here, talking in circles for so long that the sun has nearly set, painting the sky in soft shades of orange that bathe everything in a warm glow. It catches Ava's face just right, turning her into something almost ethereal, and the closeness between us makes me feel intoxicated. The sudden urge to kiss her rises up, but I shove it down fast, not wanting to ruin the moment again.

"We could... I mean, if you're comfortable with it, you could come to my house?" The words come out quieter than I mean them to, hesitancy threading each syllable. I'm terrified of how she'll respond. Her head snaps up, eyes wide with surprise, and her eyebrows raise just a fraction. "If you're not comfortable with it, I totally get that, too. We could, uh... I mean, we could check the weather for the next week and see-"

I go to pull out my phone, but she shakes her head. "Yeah, I can... We can go to your house," she says softly, and her voice trembles with a mix of nerves and something I can't quite read.

With a jerky nod, I slide into my truck, reaching over to unlock the passenger side. "Come on," I coax slightly as she looks at the car hesitantly. "I'm not going to kill you, swear."

After a moment more of hesitation, she slides into my truck, buckling herself in. I notice her fingers trembling slightly as she grips her purse, like she's on edge, preparing for the worst.

"I'm not going to hurt you," I say with a softer edge this time. Ava side eyes me for a moment, but visibly relaxes at my words. She looks so small in my truck, especially with that oversized sweater swallowing her up.

Ava lets out a shaky laugh after a second, her shoulders slouching even more in relief. "Sorry, I just... I know this is really mean, and I'm sorry, but we used to joke about you shooting up the school."

A pang of hurt hits my stomach. My general appearance and vibe is definitely school shooter chic, but it never hurts less to hear it. I quickly suppress the feeling, forcing a grin on my face. "School's not over yet," I joke, making my voice low to scare her. I glance at her quickly to take in her response. Her eyes widen, and she turns in her seat fully to look at me. She stumbles over her words, her mouth opening and closing like she's trying to catch something just out of reach. There's a moment where her brow furrows, the confusion almost palpable, like she's searching for the right thing to say but keeps coming up short. "I'm joking, jeez. And if it helps, you're not at the top of my hit list. Anymore."

"I knew it," she grumbles to herself, before giggling a little bit. The atmosphere lightens with every minute that passes, both of us enjoying the quiet as we drive to my place. When we finally arrive, I park on the side road, praying I don't get a ticket. Yeah, rent here is cheap, but no parking lot, rats and having to live near drug dealers is not ideal. But hey, it's home.

She takes in my apartment as we get out of the truck, the way the building is half painted, the stairs slanted to one side. I open the door into the hallway, going up to the second floor, where my apartment is. I unlock it and have to throw my shoulder against the door to get it unstuck, laughing awkwardly as Ava watches me.

"Sorry," I say quietly, kicking aside some clothes so she has room to get it. My apartment isn't a wreck, but it definitely isn't as tidy as I'm sure Ava's house is. "I wasn't expecting guests."

Ava shrugs, kicking off her shoes and setting her purse down on the chair next to the door. "You should see Lexi's room. Trust me, this is nothing."

I exhale in surprise, something resembling a laugh, before leading her into the living room. "I wouldn't expect her to be messy," I admit, plopping down on my makeshift air mattress couch. Seeing Ava standing in my apartment sends a wave of unease through me, my palms suddenly slick with sweat. The air in the room feels stifling, like the walls are closing in, trapping the heat between us. It's strange, having her here in my space, where everything feels more exposed, more fragile.

The house smells vaguely of weed from the session I had before I went to the park, and I worry it might bother Ava. Standing to my feet, I rummage around one of my drawers to try to find a candle. I can only manage to find a pine scented candle that's nearly burned up. The scent quickly transforms the air from a faint haze of marijuana to something reminiscent of Christmas time.

Ava settles on the 'couch,' sitting rigidly as she looks around my apartment. "You weren't kidding. There really isn't anything in here."

Rubbing the back of my neck, I shrug. "I could really only take what fit in my truck," I say quietly, not making eye contact with her.

Her eyebrows scrunch together, and she tilts her head to the side curiously. "You live by yourself?"

I laugh coldly, pulling my jacket around me tighter. I don't really have anyone to open up to about this kind of thing- my sister was the only one who seemed to listen, and we don't talk anymore, so it's weird to have someone ask about myself. I want to tell her to mind her business, to stop trying to get to know me, but I force myself to take a steadying breath.

"Yeah," I reply shortly, sitting down next to her on the couch. The air mattress dips under my weight, nearly sending Ava flying off of it. She grabs my arm to steady herself, eyes wide in fear. Her fingers dig into my cuts, and I squeeze my eyes shut to try not to scream out in pain.

"Sorry, I thought I was going to fly through the ceiling," she mumbles, her eyebrows knitted together, obviously picking up on my reaction.

I let out a shaky chuckle, rubbing my wrist gently to dull the ache. This was just a cruel reminder to stop cutting myself. Believe me- I've tried. Frozen oranges to dig my nails into, fake tattoo skin to cut up; but nothing compares to the release of self harm.

After moving out, I lost touch with the therapist I was seeing, and my mental health took a nosedive along with the rest of my life. I never liked therapy; it always felt like a chore. But I'd be lying if I said it didn't help me cope, even a little.

Honestly, this is the best my mental health has been in a long while. Unfortunately for me, I think it's due to the peppy bitch sitting to my right. Sure, we've had our spats. Like, a lot of spats. But recently, things have been... good. I- dare I say -enjoyed my time with her at the park, however brief. Having her in my house right now makes my heart skip a few beats in a way I'm not quite ready to confront.

"Where'd you go?" Ava asks, her voice cutting through my thoughts. When I refocus on her, she's smirking slightly. "Usually Lexi's the one asking me that question. That was a refreshing change."

I shrug, pulling my jacket tighter around me. "Sorry," I mumble, clearing my throat. "Sorry, I'm, uh... I'm here."

The tiny blonde stands up, grabbing the poster board and waving it around like a flag. She peeks her head over the top of it. "So... Where are we supposed to do this? Because I don't see a table anywhere."

Heat rushes to my cheeks, and I stand up, glaring at her. "You could always buy me a table," I snap, but the look on her face forces me to take a deep, meditative breath. "Sorry, I'm didn't mean to... Sorry. Uh, we could lay it on my bed. That's probably the biggest, flat surface. Besides the good ol' fashion floor."

Ava looks at the ground, her nose scrunched up. "Yeah, no offense, but... I think I might catch a disease if I sit on that floor." I try not to let her comments get me mad, especially when she's just joking around, but can't help the eye roll. "Hey, I said no offense."

"You can't say something offensive, and add no offense to counteract it," I deadpan, snatching the poster board and starting to walk to my bedroom. I hear her get up and follow me down the hallway. "Like, no offense, but you're the most arrogant person I've ever met in my life."

She laughs shortly, and I can practically feel her rolling her eyes behind my back. "Touché, bitch."

The tension between us lightens again as I creak open my bedroom door, blushing at the state. "I'm sorry," I start, dropping the board to pick up the clothes scattered around the room. I hastily make my bed, muttering apologies under my breath as I go, very aware of her presence watching me, her amused gaze adding to my embarrassment.

When I turn back around to Ava, she's leaning in the doorway, watching me with the smallest grin. She pushes off the doorframe with a slow, deliberate movement and steps further into my room, her eyes darting around like she's taking stock of the space.

She wrinkles her nose, a mix of curiosity and mild disgust crossing her face as she sniffs the air, probably getting a whiff of whatever's lingering in here. Then her gaze zeroes in on my dresser, where my weed paraphernalia is laid out- a few different strains of flower, rolling papers scattered haphazardly, my grinder left open like I'd been mid-use. Her eyes flick over to my bong perched on the end table, standing proud in its usual spot. In my head, I tell it not to worry- there'll be time for us later.

Ava looks back at me, raising an eyebrow. "You... partake often?" She asks stiffly, as if she just found out I do ketamine recreationally.

I can't help the laugh that tumbles from my lips, rolling my eyes. "'You some type of narc?" I tease, grabbing my lighter and flicking it to life. She looks at me with wide eyes, shaking her head. "Good. Anyway..." I check the time, the clock reading eight p.m. How the fuck did that happen? It's like time bends around Ava, slipping away the longer she's near me.

Stupid (beautiful) bitch.

"Oh, God," she groans when her gaze follows mine to the clock, shaking her head in disbelief. "We've done... nothing, actually. Nice. Thank god we have until Friday to finish this."

"Ugh, does that mean I have to spend another day with you?" I complain, hiding the grin that threatens to break across my face in my hands.

Ava lets out an exaggerated huff, dramatically crossing her arms over her chest. It's clear that Lexi's theatrical flair has influenced her, even if just a little. "You think I want to be... here?" She raises her nose, giving my room a look like it's beneath her. "I've been to crack houses better than this."

"You have never been to a crack house," I promise, my eyes narrowing a little at the insult. My parents constantly insulted me while I was growing up, making it hard to tell the difference between playful teasing and genuine offense.

"You don't know my life," she retorts, stepping towards me to jab a finger to my chest. The unexpected touch almost makes me flinch, but I catch her finger before it can make a second jab, my eyes narrowing into a glare. "You think you're so insightful because you're mysterious and creative."

I grip her finger tightly, before pushing it off my chest. "Don't touch me," I warn lowly, anger starting to bubble in my stomach. Ava is truly the most aggravating person ever, and my eye twitches at the idea of having to finish this project with her.

Ava and I glare at each other, our bodies nearly pressed together as we have a stare off. Her face softens for half a second, suddenly aware of our proximity, before it hardens up again. "Don't say stupid shit."

"I'm not the one bragging about going to a trap house!" I say in exasperation, throwing my hands up in confusion. I take a staggering breath, my jaw clenched so hard my teeth might break under the pressure. "Look, it's getting late. We should probably call it a night."

Ava looks down at the untouched poster board, letting out an annoyed sigh. "Great work, team," she grumbles, slipping past me to go towards the living room. I follow her, the tension from the argument still thrumming in my veins, leaving me on edge. I can't figure out how she switches so fast- from caring and sweet to this stuck-up, pretentious version of herself, like flipping a switch.

I watch her snatch up her purse, the movement sharp with frustration, as she slips on her shoes. There's tension in her shoulders, her fingers gripping the strap of her bag so tightly her knuckles pale. She turns toward me, hesitating for just a moment before speaking.

"Sorry," she finally manages, her voice barely above a whisper, like it's taking everything in her to force the word out. She swallows hard, eyes flicking away from mine. "I'm just... yeah. Sorry."

She doesn't say anything as she opens the door, starting to walk down the stairs. "How are you getting home?" I ask her, following her into the hallway of my apartment.

Ava shrugs, still not looking back at me. "How I get everywhere else," she replies, her voice casual but distant as she heads outside, her feet carrying her down the street like it's no big deal.

"Let me drive you home," I offer, quickening my pace until I catch up with her. I gently place a hand on her shoulder, turning her around. Her eyes are glassy with unshed tears, and even though I see them, I don't say anything, not wanting to push her over the edge. "Come on, get in my truck."

"I'm fine," she urges, her voice soft so I can't hear it break. "Thank you, though."

I roll my eyes at her stubbornness, grabbing my keys from my pocket and heading to my truck. "Let's go," I say simply, unlocking it and jumping in the driver's side. She just stands there, staring at the truck like she's unsure of what to do, a flicker of hesitation crossing her face. I sigh and step back out, walking around to the passenger side.

I open the door for her with a mock flourish. "Is this more what you're used to?" I ask, keeping my tone light and playful, trying to ease the tension between us. Despite the fight, despite everything, I care about her, and there's no way I'm letting her walk home alone at night.

Ava hesitates, a battle clearly happening inside her as her body visibly stiffens. After a moment, she takes a tentative step towards the truck. And then another one. And then another...

She stops abruptly, turning to face me, and I brace myself for a sharp comeback, expecting her to call me a prick or something equally biting. Instead, she surprises me by leaning in and wrapping her arms around me in a hug. The sudden contact makes me stiffen for a moment- I'm not used to this kind of affection -but I quickly shake it off and hug her back. My arms encircle her shoulders, while hers find their way around my waist, fitting so perfectly that it's almost unsettling.

She smells like vanilla, a soft, comforting scent that envelops me, and in that moment, I realize just how small she is in my arms, almost delicate enough to break. I gently rub my hand across her back, moving in slow, soothing circles, trying to offer some comfort. I can feel her tears soaking through my shirt, but oddly enough, I couldn't care less; the world around us fades away, leaving just the two of us in this fragile moment.

Every fiber of my being is on fire right now, and for half a second, I'm worried I might pop a boner. Ava pulls away before that's possible, thankfully, sniffling slightly as her eyes remain glued to the ground. "I'm sorry," she manages, before jumping into the passenger side of my truck and closing the door.

I stand there for a second, dumbfounded, before shaking it off and sliding into the driver's side. The car ride to Ava's is uncomfortably quiet, the tension thick as neither of us are sure what to say about the tender moment. When I finally pull up in front of her house, she hastily unbuckles herself and opens the door, her movements quick and nervous.

"Thanks," Ava says quietly, her fingers nervously twitching on the car door. "Rain check on the project, I guess."

I let out a nervous laugh, nodding as I struggle to find the right words. "Yeah..."

We hold each other's gaze for a moment, a nervous silence enveloping us, before she abruptly exits my truck, shuffling inside her house with a quickness that almost feels like she's escaping. I can still feel the warmth of her arms around my waist, that lingering touch leaving a tingling sensation in its wake. The sweet scent of vanilla clings to me, mixing with the stale smell of smoke that's trapped in my truck seats. As I drive home, I find myself lost in thought, my mind wandering far away from the road ahead, replaying that moment over and over.