The secrets we bury

Lessons in Control

I skipped second period.

There was no way in hell I could sit through English after what happened in first. Not with the thought of Ethan — Mr. Conway — standing at the front of the classroom pretending he didn’t know what I looked like when I moaned his name.

I sat in the senior courtyard, though technically I wasn’t supposed to be there. Rules never really applied to me anyway.

I needed space.

I needed to think.

I needed to breathe.

Emma found me halfway through the period, Starbucks cup still in hand. She handed it to me without a word and sat beside me.

I took a long sip and didn’t look at her. “So now what?”

She shrugged. “He didn’t say anything. Not a word. Kept it professional.”

“That’s the problem.”

“Ava, maybe it’s a good thing. You two flirted, that’s it.”

I gave her a look.

“Okay fine,” she said. “You sexted. Maybe more. But he’s not going to say anything. He’d lose his job. You’re still a minor.”

I sighed and leaned back against the bench, staring up at the tree above us. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. I told him I was twenty.”

Emma didn’t look surprised. “Of course you did.”

I closed my eyes and let the wind hit my face. Everything felt… cracked. My empire, my kingdom, all my perfectly placed pieces were shifting. I didn’t like it.

I hated it.

By lunch, I had recovered enough to re-enter the battlefield.

We sat at our usual table outside, sun beating down, Melanie sitting on the edge of the group like a puppy desperate to please.

She looked different today. More confident. She’d put extra effort into her hair. Lip gloss shimmered on her mouth. She kept glancing around like she expected someone.

And then he arrived.

Thornton.

Fresh from campus, hoodie loose, chain glinting in the sun. He walked over to our table like he owned the school, even though he didn’t belong here.

Melanie lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Hey,” he said to the group, but his eyes found hers. “Mind if I sit?”

I nodded casually, hiding the twist in my stomach.

He slid into the seat beside Melanie, who went completely still. Then she giggled. Giggled. I wanted to throw up.

“What are you doing here?” I asked coolly, sipping my iced tea.

“Dropped Averie’s charger off,” he said without looking at me. “Figured I’d say hi.”

I watched the way Melanie leaned into him. The way he smiled at her like she was something new. Something pure.

Like she wasn’t just a piece in my game.

Averie looked uncomfortable. Emma played with her straw.

Melanie twirled a piece of hair between her fingers. “Are you going to Jason’s party this weekend?”

Thornton grinned. “I heard I was invited.”

“Maybe we’ll see you there,” she said softly, looking at him through her lashes.

He chuckled. “Maybe you will.”

My jaw clenched. I didn’t say a word.

I just smiled.

Let her have her moment.

Let her fall a little deeper.

I would be there to catch her.

And crush her.

Last class of the day?

History. Again.

Ethan was back in front of the room, tie looser, posture stiffer. He didn’t look at me. Not once. Not even when he called on Emma. Not even when he handed out the syllabus. It was like I didn’t exist.

Which only made me want him more.

I watched him. Studied him. Memorized the lines of his jaw, the way he adjusted his sleeves, the way his mouth pressed into a tight line when he was nervous.

I crossed my legs slowly, deliberately.

He noticed.

Of course he did.

But he didn’t react.

I couldn’t decide if I wanted to slap him or kiss him.

After class, I lingered.

Emma and Averie left with Melanie, giving me a knowing glance before walking off.

Ethan started packing his things.

“Mr. Conway,” I said softly.

He froze.

Then turned, slowly.

“Yes, Ava?”

I smirked. “So formal.”

He stepped closer. “You lied to me.”

“Not entirely.”

“You told me you were twenty.”

“I will be. Eventually.”

He exhaled sharply and looked away, running a hand down his face.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” I added, my voice quieter now. “I never would’ve—”

“Stop.”

I did.

“This can’t happen,” he said, still not looking at me. “Not here. Not now.”

And then he walked out.

Leaving me alone in an empty classroom.

Flushed.

Frustrated.

And absolutely electrified.

He walked out and left me there.

Did this man just… reject me?

My mouth was dry. My face burned. My chest was tight — but not with anger. Not really.

Was I… turned on?

God.

Of course I was.

I pulled out my phone and shot him a message:

Me:

Can we please talk?

The message was read almost instantly. I watched the dots appear like some cruel little tease — then disappear.

Typing.

Gone.

No reply.

I grabbed my bag and walked out of the classroom, every step heavier than the last. I made it to my car and sat in the driver’s seat, staring at the empty lot like it had answers I didn’t.

Ten minutes passed.

Then twenty.

Still no response.

And just when I was about to drive off, my phone rang.

Ethan.

I answered on the first ring.

“Ethan—”

“Ava,” he cut me off, voice low, tight, careful. “I can’t risk losing my job. My career. My freedom… not for you.”

The words stung more than I wanted to admit.

“I know,” I said softly, trying to keep the panic out of my voice. “But just give me a chance to explain. Please.”

There was silence.

I thought he hung up.

I almost whispered his name again — when he finally replied.

“Okay,” he breathed. “Text me the address. Somewhere quiet. Late. Alone.”

I bit my lip.

“Be discreet,” he added. “I shouldn’t even be agreeing to this.”

But he was.

Which meant I still had a hold.

Still had the upper hand — barely.

“I’ll send it,” I whispered, heartbeat thudding so loud it echoed in my ears. “And Ethan?”

“What.”

“Thank you.”

He didn’t respond.

Just hung up.

I sat in my car for a few more minutes, staring into the dusk with a grin playing on my lips.

Game back on.