CHAPTER FIVE. DISTURB HEART
1091 Words
It was Wednesday, and Maplewood High buzzed with the midweek energy of students trying to survive classes and still maintain their social lives. Emily sat at her desk in English, her notebook open, pen poised, but her mind wasn’t on the essay prompt Mrs. Greene had just written on the board.
Her thoughts were tangled with Ryan. The way he had looked at her yesterday in the library—the quiet attentiveness, the flicker of vulnerability—kept playing on repeat in her mind. She felt an odd mixture of warmth and fear. Warmth, because someone had seen her. Fear, because being seen meant being vulnerable. And vulnerability, Emily had learned over the years, came with a cost.
The bell rang for group work. Emily’s stomach tightened as she collected her notebook and headed to the corner of the classroom where Ryan was already seated, arms crossed casually. He looked up, a small smile curving his lips, and for a moment, Emily felt herself relax.
“Morning, Carter,” he said lightly.
She offered a small nod, trying not to show how her heart fluttered. “Morning, Ryan.”
---
The first twenty minutes of their session passed with relative calm. They discussed themes, brainstormed ideas, and divided responsibilities. But then Ryan made a comment that threw Emily off balance.
“You’re too… intense sometimes,” he said casually, flipping through her notes. “I mean, I get it. You want it perfect. But you stress yourself out way too much.”
Emily’s pen paused mid-sentence. “Too intense?” she echoed, trying to keep her voice steady. “I’m just… thorough. I take this seriously.”
“I know, I know,” Ryan said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I just… you worry too much. It’s exhausting to watch sometimes.”
Emily’s chest tightened. Exhausting? Watching her, as if she were some kind of performance? Her cheeks flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and indignation. “I’m not doing this for you to watch,” she said, her voice sharper than intended.
Ryan blinked, surprised. “Hey, I wasn’t criticizing—”
“You were,” she interrupted, closing her notebook with a snap. The sound echoed in the quiet classroom, drawing a few curious glances from nearby tables.
Ryan leaned back in his chair, eyes widening slightly. “Em, I didn’t mean it like that. I just…” He paused, searching for words. “I like that you care. I just… I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Emily’s throat tightened. She wanted to tell him that his words had stung, that she was scared of him noticing too much, that vulnerability terrified her. But instead, she packed her things silently, avoiding his eyes.
---
After class, Sam intercepted her in the hallway. “What happened?” she asked, noticing Emily’s red cheeks and tense shoulders.
Emily shook her head. “Nothing. Just… project stuff.”
Sam gave her a knowing look. “Come on. You can tell me. Don’t tell me Ryan Mitchell just hurt your feelings.”
Emily groaned. “I don’t even know if it’s that. He… said something. About me being too intense. And it just… bothered me.”
Sam laughed softly. “Too intense? That’s a first. You, too intense? Girl, that’s a compliment.”
Emily huffed. “It didn’t feel like one.”
Sam rolled her eyes. “Em, you’re overthinking everything. He doesn’t mean it the way you think. Trust me—he’s just trying to… I don’t know… connect with you.”
Emily shook her head, though a small part of her wanted to believe Sam. The rest of her wanted to hide, to retreat to her room and write furiously, to ignore the confusing swirl of feelings that Ryan Mitchell had stirred inside her.
---
That afternoon, Emily went to the library anyway. She told herself it was to work on the project, but her chest tightened the moment she saw Ryan already there, headphones on, tapping a rhythm on his notebook.
He looked up when she entered, removing the headphones. “Hey,” he said softly. “I didn’t think you’d come today.”
“I came to work on the project,” she said, though her voice wavered.
He nodded, gesturing to the seat across from him. “Of course. Let’s just… start over. No tension. Deal?”
Emily swallowed. She wanted to nod, but words felt inadequate. “Deal.”
---
As they worked, the awkwardness lingered, subtle but persistent. Emily caught herself noticing everything about him—the way his pencil moved as he wrote, the soft crease of his brow, the almost imperceptible sigh he let out when stuck on a sentence.
And she realized something that made her heart race: she cared.
She cared that he was frustrated. She cared that he noticed her notes, her ideas, her words. She cared that he smiled at her sometimes in a way that felt like recognition, like acknowledgment that she existed beyond the margins of the world.
Ryan, meanwhile, was careful too. Every so often, he would glance up, watching her work, offering a small comment, a soft smile, a shared joke. Nothing overt, nothing obvious, but enough to make Emily feel both comforted and exposed at the same time.
And that terrified her.
---
Later, Sam stopped by with a tray of snacks. “You two are like an old married couple,” she teased, sliding the tray onto the table. “Seriously, you’re staring at each other like your lives depend on it.”
Emily’s face turned crimson. “Sam!”
Ryan laughed, a genuine, soft laugh that made Emily’s chest flutter. “We’re not staring. We’re… focusing.”
“Focusing?” Sam snorted. “Uh-huh. Sure. Keep telling yourself that.”
Emily buried her face in her notebook, trying to hide her smile. Sam’s teasing only reminded her of how vulnerable she felt. Vulnerable, and yet… alive.
---
As the afternoon sun began to fade, Ryan packed his things, glancing at Emily. “Tomorrow?” he asked softly.
Emily nodded, a small smile escaping despite herself. “Tomorrow.”
She left the library with a strange mix of anticipation and dread. Her feelings for Ryan were growing, tangled with her fears, her insecurities, and the shadows of her past. She didn’t know what this meant, exactly, only that she wanted to see him again. And that scared her more than anything else.
Because caring, she realized, always meant risking heartbreak.
- Writer
