Green Fire
852 Words
The conservatory garden buzzed with laughter that afternoon. Sunlight spilled over the trimmed hedges, catching the shimmer of fountain water as students gathered between classes.
Mya sat cross-legged on the bench, her sheet music balanced on her lap. Across from her, Daniel—one of the piano majors—leaned forward, tapping the notes she had scribbled.
“You’re hitting this phrase too flat,” he said with an easy grin. “Here—sing it again. I’ll guide you.”
Mya rolled her eyes but sang the line anyway, her voice carrying bright and playful over the fountain’s trickle. Daniel clapped when she finished.
“Better. See? With me coaching you, you’ll be unstoppable.”
She laughed, tossing her hair back. “Oh, please. Don’t let it go to your head.”
What she didn’t see—until the laughter died down—was Chris.
He stood at the edge of the garden path, tall and immovable, his gaze like a blade.
The moment their eyes met, Mya’s breath hitched. His stare was unreadable—cold, yes, but sharpened by something else. Something that made her skin prickle.
Daniel turned, oblivious, and waved cheerfully. “Professor Hale! We were just practicing—”
Chris cut him off with a look so flat, so slicing, Daniel’s grin faltered.
“Class starts in ten minutes,” Chris said, his voice like steel. “Don’t waste time flirting when you should be rehearsing.”
The word flirting cracked through the air like a whip. Mya’s cheeks burned hot. Daniel stammered something about leaving and scurried off, his sheet music half-falling from his bag.
Silence pressed down.
Mya swallowed. “That was unnecessary.”
Chris’s eyes pinned her. “Was it?”
“Yes.” Her voice trembled, but she forced it steady. “He’s my friend. Nothing more.”
Chris stepped closer, his shadow spilling over her bench. “You think I didn’t see the way he looked at you?” His tone was icy, clipped, but beneath it burned something raw.
Mya’s heart pounded. “And what about it? He’s allowed to look.”
Chris leaned in, his hand braced on the back of the bench, caging her in without touching her. His scent—wood, spice, restraint—washed over her.
“You’re playing with fire again, Mya.”
Her lips parted. “And maybe I like the heat.”
For a split second, his jaw tightened, his eyes flashing with something dangerously close to possession.
Then, as quickly as it came, the mask slammed back into place. He straightened, stepping back as though nothing had happened.
“You’ll meet me in the rehearsal room tonight. Alone. If you have this much energy to waste, you can pour it into your performance.”
Mya’s stomach flipped. “And if I don’t show up?” she dared.
His gaze narrowed. “You will. Because you want me to break you down until you’re stronger. Until your voice burns. That’s why you’re here.”
Her pulse thundered. “You sound so sure of yourself.”
He tilted his head, eyes lingering on her just long enough to make her breath falter. “I don’t need to be sure. I already know.”
And then he turned, his coat snapping behind him, leaving her breathless, flushed, and vibrating with fury and something else she couldn’t name.
---
That night, the rehearsal room was lit only by a single lamp, shadows curling against the walls.
Mya sang until her throat was raw, Chris driving her harder than ever.
“Again,” he commanded.
She shook her head, sweat damp on her neck. “You’re impossible.”
He crossed the floor in two strides, his presence overwhelming. “You’re the one who wanted this. You don’t get to falter now.”
Her chest heaved as she glared up at him. “Admit it,” she whispered. “You weren’t angry because of my voice. You were angry because of Daniel.”
The silence that followed was thick enough to choke.
Chris’s hand twitched at his side, as if resisting the urge to touch her. His jaw clenched, eyes locked on hers.
“Don’t test me, Mya.” His voice was low, dark, vibrating with tension. “You won’t win.”
But she saw it—the flicker, the crack, the jealousy he couldn’t quite smother.
And it thrilled her to her core.
---
That night, when she returned to her dorm, Sonya was sprawled on her bed, scrolling through her phone.
“You look like you just walked out of a thunderstorm,” Sonya said, raising a brow.
Mya sank onto her mattress, hugging her knees. “Maybe I did.”
“Professor Hale again?”
Mya bit her lip, her pulse still racing with the memory of his nearness. “He’s… unbearable.”
Sonya smirked. “Unbearable, but you can’t stay away?”
Mya closed her eyes, heat crawling up her neck. Because Sonya was right. She couldn’t.
And no matter how hard Chris tried to stay cold, tonight proved it: he couldn’t stay untouched either.
- Writer
