CHAPTER THIRTEEN:*Cold walls*
928 Words
The library was nearly empty, soaked in soft afternoon light that streamed through the tall windows. Amara sat across from Zayne at their usual table tucked near the back—a quiet spot they'd shared for over a week now. Open notebooks, printed research, and a half-eaten pack of gum were scattered between them.
But today, Zayne hadn’t said a word.
Amara watched him over the rim of her notebook, pretending to read while sneaking glances at his clenched jaw, the way he tapped his pen without rhythm, his brows pulled into a permanent scowl.
“Zayne?” she finally asked, voice low but steady.
He didn’t look up. “What?”
“You’ve written the same sentence three times.”
Zayne grunted and crossed it out. “It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not. You’ve been weird since you got here. Did something happen?”
His pen paused mid-scratch, and for a second, Amara thought he might actually tell her. But then, he exhaled slowly, leaned back in his chair, and shook his head.
“You wouldn’t get it,” he muttered.
“I might,” she said gently. “If you’d actually talk to me.”
He snapped his notebook shut. The sound echoed too loudly in the quiet room.
“I don’t owe you anything, Amara.”
The words cut sharp and sudden, like ice water poured down her back.
She blinked. “Where did that come from?”
“This…” he gestured between them, jaw tightening. “Whatever this is—it’s a distraction. And I don’t do distractions.”
Amara sat back slowly, her heart sinking. “So what, you’re just going to shut me out because we’ve started to… what? Get along?”
“I don’t want to get along.”
His tone was flat. Harsh. Final.
She stared at him. “You can’t just flip like this, Zayne. You’ve been opening up. I’ve seen it. We’ve had actual conversations. You laughed, for god’s sake—twice!”
“That was a mistake,” he said, eyes hard now. “And getting close to me is your mistake.”
Amara swallowed the lump rising in her throat.
“I’m not afraid of you.”
“You should be,” he replied darkly. “People who stay close to me end up hurt. Or worse.”
A beat passed. Amara’s voice dropped, barely more than a whisper. “Is that a threat?”
“No.” He looked at her—really looked at her—for the first time since walking in. His eyes were tired. Haunted. “It’s a warning.”
Something behind those words chilled her. Like he wasn’t pushing her away because he didn’t care—but because he cared too much.
She rose from her chair, fingers trembling slightly as she gathered her notes.
“You’re not the only one with a tragic backstory, Zayne,” she said softly. “But at least I don’t use mine as a reason to hurt the people trying to care.”
He didn’t answer.
She turned and walked toward the exit, each step heavier than the last.
Zayne watched her go, jaw clenched, throat burning. He didn’t chase her. Couldn’t. Because the moment she knew the truth—the moment she understood who was really responsible for her parents’ death—she’d never look at him the same way again.
Better to make her hate him now… before it destroyed them both.
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Amara stormed out of the library, her boots hitting the tiled floor harder than necessary. She didn’t care if anyone stared. Her vision blurred with unshed tears—not from heartbreak, she told herself, but from pure, boiling frustration.
Zayne was infuriating.
She pushed open the door to the courtyard and let the late afternoon breeze hit her flushed face. It should’ve been calming. It wasn’t.
“What the hell was that?” she muttered under her breath, pacing toward the edge of the school garden.
They’d spent a whole week working together. He’d been distant at first, sure, but then he started showing up early. Bringing her dumb snacks. Asking questions about her old school, about her life. He even smiled once—twice. And now?
Now, he wanted to pretend none of that happened?
She sat down on a cold bench, pulling her knees up slightly, hugging her arms around herself. For a long moment, she just sat there, letting her thoughts spiral.
Maybe she had been stupid to think he was different. Maybe the rumors were true—about his fights, his scars, his temper. Maybe he was just another broken boy who didn’t want to be fixed.
But then again… his eyes hadn’t lied. Not when he looked at her before she left.
There had been fear in them. Not of her—but for her.
“Why does he think I need protecting?” she whispered.
Was it just guilt? Or was there something more?
Her thoughts were interrupted by a buzz. A message from Lila.
LILA: “Hey babe, you okay? You left early. Want to out?”
Amara stared at the screen, then typed quickly:
AMARA: “Can we talk? I just… I need to get out of my head for a minute.”
LILA: “On my way. I’ve got snacks and a hot take on mysterious boys with emotional issues.”
Amara cracked a small smile despite herself.
Maybe Zayne had slammed a wall between them—but she wasn’t about to let it shatter her. Not yet.
- Writer
