Enemies to Lovers

Chapter 5: The Library Trap

Ember Reyes – POV

Thursday | 4:58 p.m. | Rosewood High

Ember hated late afternoons at Rosewood.

The way the halls went too quiet.

The way the shadows stretched longer, like the school itself was holding its breath.

Mostly, she hated that he was here.

Ash Callahan.

Already sitting at the back table in the library like he belonged there—like the world bent around him and had the audacity to enjoy it.

She paused in the doorway, pretending to scroll her phone, pretending she didn’t notice the way his head tilted slightly when she entered.

He didn’t look at her. Not directly.

But he didn’t have to.

She felt him.

Same as she had in the hallway.

Same as she had the night he kissed her and vanished like it meant nothing.

She walked toward the table with purpose, her boots thudding louder than she liked on the old tile floor. Tossed her bag down.

“I’m here,” she said flatly.

“Five minutes late,” he replied, not looking up. “I was starting to think you chickened out.”

“You wish.”

Ash glanced at her then—briefly—but his gaze lingered like a match held too long against skin.

Burn. Pull away. Pretend it didn’t hurt.

He leaned back in his chair, long legs stretched out beneath the table, one boot tapping against the metal leg like a slow, lazy metronome.

“You always carry that much attitude, or is it just for me?”

Ember opened her English notebook without answering. “Let’s focus on the project.”

But her hands weren’t steady. Not really.

Not with his voice curling into her like smoke. Not with the way he looked at her now—sharp but not cruel. More like…he was watching her closely. Too closely.

Ash pulled out a battered copy of Wuthering Heights and flipped it open with one hand, pen twirling between his fingers with the kind of idle confidence that made her want to break it in half.

“I read your notes,” he said after a long pause. “You see Cathy as selfish.”

“She is.”

“She’s torn.”

Ember raised a brow. “So she destroys Heathcliff because she’s indecisive, and that’s better?”

Ash leaned in slightly. “Maybe she was just scared.”

The words sank in deeper than she liked.

Because the thing was—Ember understood fear. Understood it in the most inconvenient, embarrassing way: quiet panic in crowded rooms, cold sweat at the sound of raised voices, the ache of wanting something and knowing you could lose it.

“Scared people still make choices,” she said softly. “She chose wrong.”

Ash’s jaw tightened like she’d struck a nerve. “We all choose wrong sometimes.”

The weight behind his words made her blink.

There it was again.

That shift. That tension. That thing he never said but carried like a bruise.

She could feel the storm outside deepening—the way the wind howled, the air thickening like a warning.

Inside, everything felt just as tight.

Then Ash said, almost too quietly, “You haven’t asked me why I left that night.”

Her stomach dropped.

She hadn’t asked.

Not because she didn’t want to know—

But because she was afraid of the answer.

“Because it doesn’t matter,” she said, even though it did.

He leaned forward.

“You said it meant nothing. But you’ve never kissed someone like that unless you’re lying.”

Ember froze.

Her heart was racing. Stupid, reckless thing.

Ash watched her like he could see it. Like he could hear the blood in her veins and the truth she wouldn’t say out loud.

“You look at me like I’m your worst mistake,” he said, voice low. “But I remember the way you said my name like it meant something.”

Lightning flashed outside the tall library windows.

Ember stood abruptly. “Don’t do this.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“Yes, you are. You’re… talking like it meant something to you too. And that’s not fair.”

“Why?”

“Because I needed it to mean nothing.” Her voice cracked, just barely. “I needed it to be just one stupid mistake.”

He stood now too, slow and careful, like approaching a wild animal.

“I didn’t kiss you because you were a mistake.”

She backed away. “Then why did you leave?”

His eyes flicked to the floor. Then up—haunted.

“Because while I was kissing you…” He swallowed. “Sadie was having a seizure. Alone.”

The room dropped into silence. Even the storm quieted.

Ember’s breath caught. “You…what?”

“I left because my sister was bleeding on the bathroom floor.” His voice wasn’t angry. It was…raw. “And I didn’t know how to come back after that. I didn’t know how to look you in the eye and tell you that I chose someone else.”

For a moment, Ember felt like the floor beneath her had vanished

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Rosewood High Library | Storm Night

The storm rattled the windows like it was trying to get in.

Ash couldn’t breathe.

Not because of the weather. Not because they were locked in the library with no cell service, flickering lights, and an ancient HVAC system wheezing in the ceiling.

No, it was because Ember Reyes was sitting across from him—hood up, arms crossed, chewing the inside of her cheek like it was the only thing stopping her from saying too much.

Or saying everything.

And he couldn’t stop looking at her.

The tight coil of her spine. The tension in her jaw. The fact that she was beautiful in this storm-tossed light—like the chaos belonged to her.

He hated that she didn’t trust him anymore.

But he hated more that she used to.

“I didn’t plan this,” he said finally.

She didn’t look at him. “You think I believe you arranged a power outage just to lock me in with your brooding?”

Ash smirked. “Would’ve been a pretty badass move though.”

That earned a twitch of her mouth, barely a smile. But it disappeared quick.

“I don’t want to joke with you,” she muttered.

“Because you’re still mad at me?”

“No,” she snapped. “Because when you make me laugh, I forget what you did.”

Ash’s chest tightened.

“I left,” he said, his voice lower. “I know.”

She turned on him then, eyes sharp and glassy all at once. “You disappeared, Ash. No text. No call. You kissed me like I was air and then vanished like I didn’t matter.”

“I didn’t vanish,” he said. “I buried myself.”

And it was true. The moment Sadie hit the floor, everything else stopped.

He shoved his hands into his hoodie pockets to keep from reaching for her.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” he said roughly. “To love someone so much that you’d burn down everything else just to keep them breathing.”

Ember’s voice was quiet. “I do.”

Ash looked up.

She met his gaze. Her eyes were fierce. “I know exactly what that’s like. My mom—she wasn’t well. For years. I raised myself. I learned to fold trauma into silence and move through rooms like a shadow. Don’t talk. Don’t want. Don’t ask.”

He stared at her, shaken.

“And when you kissed me that night,” she whispered, “I let myself want. Just for a second.”

Thunder cracked overhead. The lights flickered again.

Neither of them moved.

“You want to know the worst part?” she said. “I kept hoping there was a reason. That maybe you weren’t the villain I’d painted you to be.”

Ash took a step closer. Then another.

“I never stopped thinking about you.”

She laughed, bitter. “That’s not the same as showing up.”

“I know,” he said. “That’s why I’m here now.”

They stood inches apart. Breathing hard. Daring the other to move first.

“You’re not good for me,” she whispered.

“I know.”

“You’ll ruin me.”

“I’ll ruin myself first.”

Ember grabbed his hoodie, yanked him down—and kissed him.

Not sweet. Not soft. It was teeth and tongue and two people crashing together after pretending for too long they didn’t burn for each other.

Ash kissed her like he needed her to survive the storm inside him.

And maybe he did.

When they pulled apart, foreheads pressed together, the room seemed to still.

“I still hate you,” she whispered.

Ash smiled, breathless. “Good. That means this is real.”

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Ember Reyes – POV

Thursday | 9:37 p.m. | Ember’s Bedroom

She couldn’t sleep.

Of course she couldn’t.

Rain still tapped the roof like a secret being whispered on loop, and the kiss—the damn kiss—played in her head like a stuck record.

Ash Callahan’s mouth.

His hands.

The way his voice dropped when he said he never stopped wanting her.

She threw her pillow across the room.

“You kissed him back.”

“You wanted to.”

“And you liked it.”

Ember groaned into her blanket, rolling over onto her back.

She hated this part.

The aftermath.

The quiet.

The questions.

Because now that it was over—now that she was home, dry, and alone—reality crept in through the cracks of her resolve.

What had she done?

She had rules. Walls. Reasons.

And Ash Callahan? He was every single exception to them.

It wasn’t just about the kiss.

It was about the way he’d looked at her like she mattered.

Like he remembered—not just the kiss a year ago, but her. All of her.

And worse?

She had let herself believe it.

Ember rolled again, heart pounding, hugging herself as if that could press the memory down—shove it deeper.

His confession played back in her head on repeat.

“While I was kissing you… Sadie was bleeding on the bathroom floor.”

It haunted her. The truth of it. The weight of what he carried that night and never said.

And somehow, that made everything worse.

Because now she didn’t just want him.

Now she understood him.

And understanding was a dangerous thing.

It meant he wasn’t just a bad boy with bruised knuckles and sharp comebacks.

He was a boy with pain, and guilt, and fire.

And he’d kissed her like she could quiet it.

Her phone buzzed.

One text. From an unknown number.

ASH:

I shouldn’t have kissed you.

But I’m not sorry I did.

Her heart stuttered.

A second later, another ping.

ASH:

Tell me if you want me to stop.

Say the word, Reyes. I’ll leave you alone.

But if you don’t… I’m not walking away again.

She stared at the screen, fingers trembling.

Her thumb hovered.

Typing…

Then deleting.

Typing again…

But in the end, she didn’t send anything.

Because she didn’t know what scared her more:

The idea of Ash walking away again—

Or the fact that she might not want him to.

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