Love beyond rivalry

chapter 5

AMBER'S POV

By the second week, avoiding Jason Rivers had become a full-time job.

I timed my arrivals to class so I wouldn’t walk in at the same moment as him. I took the longer route to the cafeteria just to lower the chance of crossing his path. When we were in the same room, I kept my eyes on my notebook, my phone, the window—anywhere but the tall figure with dark hair and deep brown eyes that somehow always seemed to be in my peripheral vision.

It was exhausting.

Sandra had stopped teasing me about it as much. Now she just watched me with this knowing look that made me want to sink into the floor.

“You’re going to slip up eventually,” she said quietly on Monday morning as we walked to first period. “You can’t keep this up forever.”

“Watch me,” I muttered.

She didn’t look convinced.

The universe, apparently, decided to test me that same day.

In English class, Mrs. Patel announced a new project. Partner work. I felt my stomach drop before she even finished the sentence. She started reading names from her list, pairing students together. I held my breath, silently praying she would put me with Sandra or literally anyone else.

“Amber Anderson and Jason Rivers.”

The words hit me like cold water.

A few people turned to look. Someone in the back whispered. Sandra’s eyes widened as she glanced at me.

I kept my face carefully blank.

Jason, from what I could tell without looking directly at him, didn’t react much either. He simply nodded once when Mrs. Patel told us to move and sit with our partners for the rest of the period.

I stayed in my seat for a few extra seconds, pretending to pack my bag. Then I stood and walked toward the empty desk beside his like my legs weren’t made of lead.

I sat down. Kept my eyes on the desk.

“Hey,” he said quietly.

His voice was low, calm, the same way it had been on that first day.

I gave a short nod, still not looking at him. “Hey.”

Mrs. Patel started explaining the project—an analysis of character development in the novel we were reading. We had two weeks. We needed to divide the work and present together at the end.

Jason pulled out his notebook and turned it so I could see the page. “I can take the first three chapters if you want the rest. Or we can split it evenly.”

I stared at the neat handwriting. His hands were larger than I remembered, veins lightly visible across the back of them.

“Evenly is fine,” I said.

“Okay.”

Silence settled between us. The rest of the class was already talking, chairs scraping, people laughing. Around us, everything felt normal. Between us, it felt like the air had thickened.

I could feel him looking at me.

I kept my gaze locked on the blank page in front of me.

“You don’t have to act like I don’t exist,” he said after a moment, voice low enough that only I could hear.

My fingers tightened around my pen.

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

I finally risked a glance at him.

It was a mistake.

Those deep brown eyes were already on me, steady and unreadable. Up close, I could see the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw and the way a single strand of dark hair fell near his temple. He looked even better than he did from a distance, which somehow felt unfair.

I looked away again almost immediately.

“Our families—” I started.

“I know,” he cut in gently. “I got the same speech from my father.”

That surprised me enough that I almost looked at him again.

Jason leaned back slightly in his chair. “I’m not asking you to be my friend, Amber. We just have to get through this project without making it weird.”

I swallowed. “It’s already weird.”

A small, almost reluctant smile touched the corner of his mouth. “Yeah. It is.”

For the rest of the period, we spoke only about the book. Safe topics. Deadlines. Who would handle which section. Every time our hands accidentally brushed while reaching for the same page of notes, I pulled back like I’d been burned.

When the bell finally rang, I stood up so fast my chair scraped loudly against the floor.

“I’ll email you my part by Wednesday,” I said, already gathering my things.

“Amber.”

I paused, but didn’t turn around fully.

“You can look at me, you know,” he said quietly. “It’s not a crime.”

I didn’t answer.

I just walked out of the classroom with my heart beating too fast and Sandra trailing behind me, already whispering questions I wasn’t ready to answer.

That night, I sat on my bed staring at the group email Mrs. Patel had sent with our partner assignments. Jason’s name sat right next to mine on the screen.

I told myself I would keep things strictly professional.

No extra conversation.

No lingering.

No looking longer than necessary.

But as I closed my laptop, I already knew it wouldn’t be that simple.

Not when just sitting beside him for forty minutes had made it harder to breathe.

Not when part of me was already wondering what he had meant when he said he got the same speech from his father.

And not when, for the first time in two weeks, I had looked into Jason Rivers’ eyes again… and hadn’t wanted to look away.