Chapter 2 : The Assignment
989 Words
Ash's POV
Ash sat on the back steps behind the gym, lighting a cigarette he had no intention of finishing.
He didn’t even smoke anymore—not really. Just liked the way the smoke gave his hands something to do. Something other than clench.
Ember Reyes was back.
And she’d looked at him like he was a loaded gun.
He leaned against the brick wall and blew smoke toward the sky, watching it curl and vanish, soft and hollow like everything else in this town.
He’d spent the last year trying to forget her. Tried to bury the way she used to laugh—low and secret, like she didn’t want the world to know she was happy. The way she used to say his name like it meant something.
But then she vanished.
Just gone. No warning. No goodbye. One day she was there, sitting next to him on the edge of the lake with paint on her fingers and fire in her mouth, and the next—
Smoke.
He hadn’t asked questions. That’s not who he was.
Not anymore.
But that didn’t mean he didn’t notice when the world got quieter.
When the only voice that ever called him out disappeared, Rosewood started feeling a lot colder. A lot louder, too. Fights in the hallway. Detention slips piling up. Fists in lockers just to feel something.
Now she was back.
And still burning.
And he couldn’t decide if it felt like relief… or punishment.
He flicked ash onto the cracked concrete, jaw tight. She hated him—he could see it in her eyes. And honestly? She had every right. He’d let things happen. Stood by when she needed him to stand up. Chose silence when words might’ve saved her.
Because words were just weapons in this place—and she’d already been bleeding enough.
“You look like shit.”
Ash didn’t move. Only looked over as Micah, his oldest friend, dropped onto the step beside him, popping the cap off a Gatorade.
“She’s back,” Ash said, voice flat.
Micah took a swig. “Yeah, I saw. Ember’s got that ‘bite-your-heart-out’ vibe going. Always did.”
Ash didn’t respond.
Micah glanced over. “You okay?”
“No.”
Micah shrugged. “You gonna be?”
Ash inhaled deep. Held it. Let it burn his lungs before exhaling slow. “Doesn’t matter.”
He didn’t get to be okay. Not after what happened. Not after what he let happen.
He stood up, dropping the half-burned cigarette and grinding it out with his heel. Bell was about to ring again. And he had a feeling the universe wasn’t done screwing with him yet.
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> Later that day…
“You’ll be working in pairs for your final English project,” Mrs. Caldwell announced. “Your partners have already been chosen.”
Ash didn’t flinch. Not even when the name dropped like a knife.
“Ash Callahan… Ember Reyes.”
The class went still.
Ash didn’t move.
But his heart did.
Straight into his throat.
---
Ember's POV
There were a hundred ways Ember thought her first day back might go.
Running into Ash Callahan, spilling her coffee all over him, and nearly throwing hands before the first period bell?
Not ideal.
But being partnered with him for their final English project?
That was fate with a sick sense of humor.
She sat stiffly in her desk, jaw clenched, eyes locked on the front of the classroom. Anywhere but him. She could feel Ash’s presence two rows to the left—like smoke curling into her lungs whether she wanted it or not.
Mrs. Caldwell flipped through a stack of syllabi at the front of the room, completely unaware—or maybe uncaring—that she’d just thrown gasoline on a wildfire.
“You’ll be working in pairs,” she said, like she wasn’t detonating a bomb. “Your partners are assigned. No switching. You’ll be expected to present a creative interpretation of one of the assigned works. Think beyond a PowerPoint. Think... impactful. The theme is: Conflict and Redemption.”
Ember wanted to laugh. Or scream. Or throw her desk out the window.
Conflict and Redemption. How poetic.
Her pen dug into the page of her notebook, pressing hard enough to tear it.
“You’ve got five weeks,” Caldwell continued. “Use the time wisely. And try not to kill each other, hmm?”
Some students laughed. Ember didn’t.
She could feel the eyes on her. Not just Ash’s—though his were the ones burning holes in the side of her head—but everyone else’s too. Rosewood had a long memory. And whispers traveled faster than truth.
As the class filed out, Ember gathered her books with movements too sharp, too precise. She needed air. Space. Distance.
But before she could slip out, Ash was there, standing at the edge of her desk like a shadow she couldn’t outrun.
“We should talk about the project,” he said simply.
She looked up slowly, meeting his gaze.
Cold. Steady. Calculated.
But behind that mask, something flickered—uncertainty maybe. Or regret. Not that it mattered.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” she said flatly.
He smirked, and for a second it almost looked real. Almost sad.
“I think Mrs. Caldwell would disagree.”
Ember stood, shoving her books into her bag. “Fine. We’ll meet after school. Library. Quiet section. Thirty minutes. Don’t be late.”
Ash arched a brow. “Still bossy, Reyes.”
She stepped closer, close enough for her voice to drop into a whisper.
“And you’re still the reason people build walls.”
Then she turned and walked out.
Didn’t flinch. Didn’t look back.
But her fingers curled into fists, and her heartbeat echoed in her ears like war drums.
Because no matter how far she’d come...
Ash Callahan still made her bleed.
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- Writer
