Burning Between Lines

Under The Surface

(Pearl’s POV)

The air was thick with heat and the smell of freshly baked bread as Pearl stepped into the café. It was a small place tucked away from the main street, cozy enough for people to come in and disappear. She liked it that way—nothing too loud. Nothing that made her stand out.

Her usual corner booth, by the window, was empty, and she slid into the seat, pulling out her homework. She needed the quiet.

A few minutes later, the bell above the door chimed.

It was him.

Prince. Of course.

He was laughing about something with Zay, and for a brief moment, Pearl thought about getting up and leaving. But instead, she sat back and watched as they found a table, the casual way they settled into their seats, the ease with which they took up space.

For someone who never liked to be noticed, Prince sure had a way of drawing attention to himself without even trying.

She turned her attention back to her notes, trying to focus, but it wasn’t working. She was too aware of them—of him.

Zay waved at her, a wide grin plastered on his face. “Hey, Pearl! What’s up?”

Pearl waved back, forcing a smile, and Prince glanced up, his eyes locking with hers for the briefest of moments.

A spark. Then it was gone, swallowed by the din of the café.

“You busy?” Zay asked, his voice carrying over the table.

“A little,” Pearl replied, lifting her pen. “Just trying to catch up.”

Zay chuckled. “If you say so. You know Prince here just got into a huge fight with Coach, right?”

Prince rolled his eyes. “Please. He was giving me s**t about my form again.”

Zay smirked. “It’s not a fight if you win.”

Pearl glanced at him, then back down at her paper. She didn’t know why she felt like she had to prove something. That there was a game she didn’t know about.

Prince leaned back in his chair, stretching out his legs, the casual confidence making his presence impossible to ignore. “Hey,” he said, suddenly looking directly at her, “you coming to the game on Friday?”

Pearl paused.

“I don’t really go to sports games,” she said, trying to keep her tone light.

“You should,” he said, his voice dropping just a little. “You’ll be missing out.”

She didn’t say anything. Instead, she picked up her pen again and tried to focus on her notes, but the pull of his gaze was too strong, like it was tugging at something deeper inside her. Something she hadn’t been ready to face.

“I’ll think about it,” she finally said, her voice tight.

There was a long pause.

Then Prince did something she didn’t expect. He leaned forward, his arms resting on the table, his eyes searching hers.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost a whisper.

Pearl didn’t know how to answer that. Was she okay? She didn’t even know anymore.

“I’m fine,” she said, forcing a smile, but even she didn’t believe it.

Zay, sensing the shift, leaned back and grabbed his drink. “I’ll leave you two to talk. Prince, try not to make her uncomfortable.”

Prince rolled his eyes and shot Zay a glare before turning back to Pearl. “I don’t make anyone uncomfortable.”

Pearl raised an eyebrow. “You sure about that?”

He hesitated for a second, then smirked. “Maybe you’re the one making me uncomfortable.”

There it was again—the weird mix of teasing and something else, something just under the surface. But Pearl couldn’t figure it out. She couldn’t let herself.

She was just starting to say something, maybe to change the subject, when Zay came back with their drinks. As he slid into the booth next to Prince, he tossed a glance at Pearl.

“You know,” Zay said, “there’s this whole thing with Prince where he acts like he doesn’t care about anything. But it’s all a front. Everyone knows it. He might not care about the game, or school, or whatever, but he sure cares about being the best at whatever he does.”

Prince shot Zay a warning glare, but Zay just laughed. “I’m just saying. You might wanna get used to him being a little too persistent.”

Pearl stayed quiet, her thoughts swirling.

Later that evening, after the café had cleared out and the streetlights had flickered on, Pearl found herself walking the same route home. It was almost like she was on autopilot, her feet moving but her mind drifting.

She wasn’t expecting it when the sound of footsteps behind her broke the silence.

She turned just in time to see Prince coming up beside her, hands shoved in his jacket pockets. His face was more serious now—less playful.

“You walk home this late often?” he asked, his tone a little lighter than usual, but there was something else in it, something that made Pearl’s skin prickle.

“Sometimes,” she replied. “It’s quiet. Helps me think.”

Prince nodded. “I get that.”

They walked side by side for a while, the air cooler now, the streetlights casting shadows on the ground. Neither of them spoke. But it wasn’t awkward. It was like a silent understanding.

“I’m just saying,” he finally broke the silence, “you should think about coming to the game.”

Pearl looked at him. His eyes were soft, like he really meant it. And for a moment, she felt that pull again—something more than attraction. Something deeper. But she didn’t know what it was, and she didn’t have the energy to figure it out.

“I’ll think about it,” she said again, the words leaving her mouth like a breath she didn’t want to take back.

Prince smiled, just a little, like he knew he’d won something—just a little bit.

And Pearl hated how much she liked it.