Episode 2
1265 Words
THE RULES OF RESISTANCE
At home, everything was rules.
No shoes on the carpet. No food after eight. No conversations about “unproductive emotions.” No crying in public, no shouting in private, and definitely no romantic distractions—“especially the older kind,” as Marissa Wren once scoffed after Eden asked if soulmates were real.
Eden’s mother was a top-tier family lawyer known for dismantling toxic marriages in court with frightening calm. Love, in her world, was a weakness people couldn’t afford. Romance was a gamble, and emotion? A liability.
So Eden learned young: control was safety.
Every decision was carefully weighed. Her schedule was planned weeks in advance. She didn’t date. She didn’t daydream. And she especially didn’t fall for men with crooked smiles and university lanyards hanging from their jeans pocket.
But now her thoughts kept dragging her back to one Aiden Cross.
The next week was pure psychological warfare.
Aiden kept showing up. At lockers, in the courtyard, near her table during study hall. Not in an overt or clingy way—just enough to make her question whether it was coincidence or calculated.
“I swear,” Jade said one afternoon, watching him lean on a windowsill near Eden’s chem lab, “he’s like a flirty poltergeist.”
Zoey giggled. “Aiden totally has a crush. Look at that eyebrow lift!”
Eden didn’t respond. She stared down at her notes and refused to turn around.
But her skin felt warm.
And her heart... raced.
She told herself it was irritation. Mild social anxiety. Caffeine.
Not attraction.
“I’m just saying,” Zoey said over her tofu tacos, “if a guy that hot kept finding reasons to talk to me, I wouldn’t be avoiding eye contact—I’d be practicing wedding signatures.”
Eden sipped her water. “It’s inappropriate.”
“He’s what—nineteen? You’re seventeen.”
“Almost eighteen,” Jade added, not bothering to look up from her phone. “The age gap is minor. The drama’s more psychological than legal.”
Eden raised a brow. “Thanks for the analysis, Judge Reyes.”
Jade smirked. “Anytime, Ice Queen.”
Zoey leaned forward. “Eden, you like him. It’s obvious. Your voice goes slightly higher when you pretend you don’t.”
“I do not.”
“You just did it.”
Eden groaned and stabbed at her salad. “He’s arrogant. Cocky. Smirks too much.”
“And yet you remember everything about him,” Jade muttered, amused.
They had a point. And that annoyed her most.
Wednesday. Literature class.
They were supposed to be writing response essays in silence, but Aiden had a pen and no boundaries.
He tossed it toward her notebook casually.
She ignored it.
He tossed it again—closer this time, landing on the edge of her page.
Eden finally looked up.
He smiled lazily. “Didn’t want you falling asleep. Thought you might miss me.”
She picked up the pen and wrote back on the page instead of speaking:
“Is bothering me your new hobby?”
He leaned closer and scribbled under it:
“Only when it gets such a pretty reaction.”
Eden’s fingers tightened around the pen.
She wrote slowly:
“Careful, Cross. You’re not as charming as you think.”
Aiden’s grin didn’t falter.
“Not yet.”
It didn’t take long before whispers started circling Northview’s pristine halls.
“Did you see how she smiled at him yesterday?”
“She never talks to anyone like that.”
“He’s basically an adult. Isn’t that against some rule?”
“I heard he used to date a teaching assistant at his college.”
“Typical. Cold girls always go for trouble.”
Eden hated it. Hated being the center of curiosity. Hated the way eyes followed her, expecting her to slip.
The only time she felt normal was during fencing club practice—a place where masks were literal and no one cared who flirted with whom.
Until he showed up there too.
Aiden leaned on the bleachers, arms crossed, watching her spar with precision.
She knew he was there the moment she stepped onto the mat. Her movements got tighter. Sharper.
After practice, he sauntered over, eyes glinting with interest. “Swordplay. Sexy.”
She pulled off her helmet and gave him a warning glare. “Try saying that in front of the coach.”
He shrugged. “Can’t help it. You’re all grace and murder.”
“Compliment or diagnosis?”
“Both.”
And then, before she could shut the door on the conversation, he added, quieter, “You’re more alive out there than in class. Like you stop hiding.”
The words hit deeper than she wanted to admit.
Because he was right.
Later that week, they were partnered again in literature.
This time, the theme was unspoken desires in poetry.
Eden prayed the ground would open up and swallow her.
Instead, Aiden leaned across the desk and whispered, “You know, all these tragic love poems? They’d be shorter if people just said what they wanted.”
Eden met his gaze coolly. “Maybe they didn’t want to be misunderstood.”
“Or maybe they were scared of being seen.”
A beat passed.
Eden didn’t flinch—but she felt something twist inside her.
“Don’t analyze me, Cross,” she said quietly.
He smiled. “Too late.”
Friday.
Eden was heading to the library when Aiden fell into step beside her.
“I have a theory,” he said without prompting.
She sighed. “Of course you do.”
“You think keeping everyone at arm’s length will protect you. But it’s just isolation disguised as control.”
She stopped walking.
Turned to him slowly.
And said, “Do you want me to report you for harassment?”
Aiden blinked—surprised, maybe even hurt.
But she wasn’t done.
“You think you’re charming. You think I’m a puzzle. But I’m not your next fix, or your crush-of-the-week. So back off.”
Aiden held up his hands. “Got it. No more flirtations.”
And for the first time since they met... he walked away.
And Eden’s heart ached.
The next few days were quiet.
Too quiet.
No pens thrown across desks. No smirks in hallways. No lazy drawl behind her during lunch.
It should’ve felt like peace.
It didn’t.
Worse, her friends noticed.
“You miss him,” Zoey whispered one afternoon.
Eden said nothing.
Jade gave her a look. “You pushed him away so hard, and now you’re mad he listened?”
Eden bit the inside of her cheek.
It wasn’t that simple.
She wasn’t used to being wanted. Not for real. Not like this.
And Aiden Cross didn’t just flirt with her.
He saw her.
That terrified her more than anything.
Friday.
Another fencing practice.
She stayed late, needing the silence, the motion, the space.
When she stepped outside, Aiden was waiting.
Eden froze.
“I’m not here to push,” he said quickly. “I just wanted to say... I get it.”
She stared.
He shrugged. “You built walls for a reason. Maybe I should’ve knocked instead of climbed.”
Silence stretched between them.
Then Eden whispered, “I’ve spent so long pretending not to feel. You made it hard.”
Aiden looked at her gently. “That wasn’t my intention.”
“I know.”
Beat.
She took a breath. “So what now?”
He smiled. Softly. “Now we start over.”
- Writer
