Chapter ten — Fire and Jealousy
952 Words
After our kiss under the sky, things changed between us.
Alexander wasn’t hiding anymore. Not from Ivy. Not from me. Not from the rumors. He walked with me through the halls like I was his oxygen — hand in mine, lips brushing my cheek, arm slung over my shoulders like a silent dare to anyone who thought about crossing me.
And they stopped trying.
Mostly.
Except Ivy.
She was still circling.
And I was starting to realize…
She wasn’t circling him.
She was circling me.
---
Friday came faster than expected.
Cresthill’s infamous Fall Dance was that night — not prom, but big enough that everyone dressed up like it mattered. There was drama every year: fights, breakups, secret hookups, backstabbing. The usual high school chaos.
I never planned on going.
But Alexander showed up at my doorstep with a black leather jacket in one hand and a blood-red dress in the other.
I blinked at him. “What is that?”
“You’re going,” he said, stepping into the house like it belonged to him. “With me.”
“I don’t have a dress—”
“You do now,” he said, tossing the garment bag on my bed.
I blinked at the soft fabric as I unzipped it.
It was perfect. Off-the-shoulder. Silky. Dangerous.
“Did you seriously go shopping for me?” I asked, shocked.
He smirked. “Don’t flatter yourself. I had someone pick it out.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Who?”
“No one important.”
But something in his tone made my stomach twist.
---
The dance was held in the gym, transformed with fairy lights and dark crimson curtains, music thumping through the floor.
When we walked in, everything stopped.
Literally.
All eyes turned.
Girls gasped.
Ivy stared.
And Alexander?
He didn’t even blink.
He had one hand in mine and the other on my waist, pulling me closer as if to remind everyone — especially her — who I belonged to.
I felt like fire on his arm. Powerful. Untouchable.
And he made sure I stayed that way.
At least… until he walked away.
---
“I need a minute,” he whispered against my ear. “Bathroom. Don’t move.”
I nodded, letting go of his hand reluctantly.
But the moment he was gone, Ivy appeared — like a shadow dressed in satin and poison.
“Red suits you,” she said with a smile, sipping from her drink.
“Thanks. So does desperation.”
She laughed. “Touché. I see he’s trained you well.”
My jaw clenched. “Is this your thing? Lurking in corners, waiting for me to be alone?”
“I just think it’s cute,” she said sweetly, “how you think this is real.”
I crossed my arms. “It is.”
She leaned closer. “Then tell me, Ava… did he mention the first girl he brought to this dance?”
I froze.
She smirked. “That’s right. Two years ago. She wore red too. She left in tears after finding out she was just a warm-up for me.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“No?” Ivy said, sipping again. “Then where is he now?”
I turned away and headed for the hallway, heart racing.
---
I found him out back.
Not in the bathroom.
Not on a call.
But standing by his bike… talking to another girl.
She was laughing at something he said. Touching his arm.
And he wasn’t stopping her.
I didn’t know her, but I didn’t need to.
Ivy had planted the seed.
And now… I felt it grow.
---
“Enjoying yourself?” I said, stepping into view.
Alexander turned, eyes locking onto mine like a storm.
The girl backed up, sensing the heat.
“Not what it looks like,” he said immediately.
“Isn’t it?” I asked, arms folded.
The girl disappeared fast.
Alexander walked toward me, jaw tight. “You believe her over me?”
“I saw you,” I snapped. “You let her touch you.”
He narrowed his eyes. “And you think that means something?”
“You told me I’m yours,” I said. “But you keep inviting girls into your space like it’s nothing.”
His voice dropped. “You’re jealous.”
“You’re damn right I am.”
He stared at me, then suddenly grabbed my wrist, yanking me around the side of the building where no one could see.
I gasped as my back hit the wall.
“You think I want anyone else?” he growled.
“I don’t know what to think!”
He leaned in, breathing hard, our bodies flush against each other.
“I was trying to keep things calm tonight,” he said, voice rough. “But you wanna play jealous?”
He gripped my thigh, pulling it up around his hip.
“I’ll show you what being mine really means.”
---
His mouth found my neck, kissing, biting, marking.
My fingers tangled in his hair, heart racing as heat flooded my body.
“Say it,” he murmured against my skin.
“Say you’re mine.”
“I’m yours,” I breathed, barely able to speak.
“Louder.”
“I’m yours, Alexander.”
His mouth claimed mine again, wild and possessive. We were all teeth and lips and aching want. Anyone could’ve walked around the corner, but neither of us cared.
Because in that moment, it wasn’t about the dance.
It wasn’t about Ivy.
It was about us — raw, obsessed, burning.
And we didn’t stop until the music inside faded, and the sky turned black.
- Writer
