Love beyond rivalry

chapter 2

Jason's pov

The first day at a new high school was supposed to be straightforward

Arrive.

Find my classroom.

Keep a low profile.

Get through the day.

At least, that was the plan.

I sat at the back of the classroom, observing the unfamiliar faces around me. Everyone appeared to know one another already. They spoke in small groups, laughed, and exchanged gossip while I remained quietly at my desk.

I wasn't nervous.

I simply disliked being the new student.

The teacher entered the classroom and placed a stack of books on her desk.

"Good morning, everyone."

l

"Good morning, ma'am."

She smiled before surveying the room.

"Before we begin today's lesson, we have a new student joining us."

Several students turned to look at me.

I sighed quietly.

Great.

The teacher looked directly at me.

"Jason Rivers, would you like to introduce yourself?"

I stood.

"I'm Jason Rivers. I'm seventeen years old and new to Toronto."

That was all I said before sitting down again.

A few students whispered among themselves.

I ignored them.

The teacher continued with the lesson, but a few minutes later, she stopped and looked toward the front row.

"Amber?"

A girl raised her head.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Since Jason is new here, I'd like you to show him around during the break. Take him to the library, science block, cafeteria, and the other important areas."

She murmured something under her breath and looked displeased by the request. I wasn't particularly pleased with the arrangement either.

"Okay, ma'am," she said reluctantly.I glanced at her for the first time.

Amber Anderson.

I'd heard the name before.

Our families were rivals. It wasn't an intense family feud or anything particularly dramatic. The Rivers and Anderson families simply competed in business and had done so for years.

Still, I knew better than to become involved in their affairs.

I'd never met her before.

And she'd never met me.

Until now.

The bell finally rang for break.

I packed my books slowly, waiting for Amber to finish speaking with the teacher.

A few moments later, she walked toward me.

"Jason?"

I looked up.

"Yes?"

"I'm Amber. Mrs. Williams asked me to show you around, although I can't say I'm particularly pleased about it."

"Oh."

I stood.

"All right."

An awkward silence followed.

Neither of us seemed to know what to say next.

She adjusted the strap of her bag.

"Have you been to the school before?"

"No."

"Then I'll show you everything."

I nodded.

She turned and began walking.

I followed beside her.

For some reason, I found myself studying her.

The way she walked was steady, almost deliberate, like she already owned every hallway we passed. Her dark hair was pulled into a loose knot at the nape of her neck, a few strands escaping to brush against her cheek whenever the breeze caught them. She didn’t look back to check if I was still there. She just assumed I would keep up.

I did.

The main building rose ahead of us, red brick and tall windows that caught the late afternoon light. Students drifted across the courtyard in small groups, laughing, calling out to each other. A few of them glanced our way. Some of the looks lingered on her longer than they should have. I noticed. I also noticed the way her shoulders stayed straight, like she was used to being watched and had stopped caring.

“This is the admin block,” she said, stopping just long enough to point. “You’ll register here tomorrow. Don’t be late—Mrs. Caldwell hates late people.”

“Noted.”

She started walking again. I fell into step beside her, close enough that our arms almost brushed every few steps. Almost, but not quite. She kept that careful distance without even seeming to try.

We passed the science labs, the library with its heavy wooden doors, the small courtyard where a group of guys were kicking a ball around. One of them shouted something in her direction. She didn’t answer. Just kept moving.

“You know a lot of people here,” I said.

“I’ve been here since year seven.” Her voice stayed even. “You get used to the faces.”

“Even the ones who stare?”

She glanced at me then, just for a second. Something flickered in her eyes—surprise, maybe, or irritation that I’d noticed. Then it was gone.

“They stare at everyone new,” she said. “You’ll get your turn.”

I almost smiled. “Looking forward to it.”

We reached the sports complex next. The gym doors were open, and the sound of sneakers squeaking on polished wood spilled out. She slowed down, almost without meaning to. Her eyes flicked toward the court for half a second before she looked away again.

“You play?” I asked.

“Used to.” She adjusted the strap of her bag again, a nervous habit I was starting to recognize. “Not anymore.”

I waited, but she didn’t explain. I didn’t push. Something about the way she said it told me it wasn’t a casual answer.

We kept walking. The path curved around the back of the gym, leading toward a quieter stretch of the campus where the trees grew thicker and the noise of the courtyard faded. She stopped beneath one of the bigger trees and finally turned to face me fully.

“This is the long way,” she said. “Most people cut across the field. But I like it better here. Quieter.”

I looked around. She was right. The leaves filtered the sunlight into soft gold patches on the ground. A couple of birds argued somewhere above us. It felt almost private.

“Why are you showing me around?” I asked.

The question came out before I could stop it. She blinked, like she hadn’t expected me to ask.

“Because someone has to,” she said. “And I was free.”

“That’s it?”

She held my gaze for a second longer than necessary. “That’s it.”

I didn’t believe her. Or maybe I just wanted there to be more to it. Either way, I nodded and let it go.

We started walking again, slower this time. The path opened onto a small field behind the school. In the distance I could see the outline of the track and the football posts. She stopped at the edge of the grass and pointed.

“That’s where the inter-school matches are held. You’ll hear about them soon enough. Everyone gets competitive around here.”

Something in her voice tightened on the last word. Competitive. Rivalry. I filed it away.

“You competing?” I asked.

She gave a short, almost bitter laugh. “Not this year.”

Again, no explanation. I decided not to ask twice.

We stood there for a moment in another stretch of silence, but this one felt different. Less awkward. More… charged. She was looking at the field like it held old memories she wasn’t ready to share. I was looking at her.

Up close, I could see the faint scar just above her left eyebrow. The way her lower lip pressed together when she was thinking. The gold earrings that caught the light every time she turned her head. She was prettier than I’d first thought. Not in the obvious, loud way some girls were. In a quieter way that made you look twice.

She caught me staring.

“What?”

“Nothing.” I looked away quickly. “Just… thanks. For showing me around.”

She studied me for a second, then gave a small nod. “Don’t make me regret it.”

There was the ghost of a smile at the corner of her mouth when she said it. It disappeared almost immediately, but I saw it.

We turned back toward the main buildings. The sun had dropped lower, painting everything in warmer colors. Students were starting to thin out. Somewhere a bell rang, distant and muffled.

As we walked, I found myself matching her pace without thinking about it. Every time our shoulders nearly touched, I felt it more than I should have. She didn’t move away. She also didn’t move closer.

By the time we reached the front gates again, the silence between us had settled into something almost comfortable.

She stopped and faced me one last time.

“Tomorrow,” she said. “Don’t be late for registration. And… try not to get lost.”

“I’ll manage.”

She hesitated, like she wanted to say something else, then decided against it.

“See you around, Jason.”

It was the first time she’d said my name. It sounded different coming from her.

“Yeah,” I said. “See you.”

She turned and walked away without looking back. I watched until she disappeared around the corner of the admin block, the strap of her bag still held tightly in one hand.

I stood there a little longer than necessary, hands in my pockets, replaying the last hour in my head.

For some reason, I already knew I was going to look for her tomorrow.

I just didn’t know why that thought felt more dangerous than it should have.