The Fire Beneath
1106 Words
The weekend hadn't come like a sigh of relief—it burst in like a wave Ava wasn't ready for.
Friday's kiss still lingered. It clung to her like perfume and thunderheads—sweet, frightening, impossible to remove. She couldn't eat. Couldn't sleep. Couldn't get the second when Noah's fingers traveled across her jaw like she was something delicate out of her head.
She hadn't even spoken it with Becca.
Because once you can say it, it's real.
And Ava wasn't ready for real.
She sat in her window Saturday morning, legs wrapped around her chest, watching the clouds massing above Maplewood. The sky was battered, as if it had been struck and never healed. Much like her.
Downstairs, her mom hummed over the ironing board, pretending that her world wasn't shattering from financial stress and loneliness. Detergent smell rose up, too fresh, too chemical—as if it was trying to cover something up.
Her phone buzzed again.
Becca (10:19 a.m.): Crystal told the girls she caught you and Noah making out on the roof. True???
Becca (10:21 a.m.): Also, she's PISSED. Like claws-out pissed. Just warning you.
Ava didn't respond.
Not because she was sidestepping her best friend—but because she didn't have a clue what to say.
Yes, it did occur.
Yes, it meant something.
No, she didn't know what to do about it.
That night, Ava dreamed.
She was alone in the school hallway—naked, barefoot, lights fading like a horror movie—and then Noah came out of the darkness. But he wasn't her Noah. His hands were bloody. His mouth opened, but no sound came out.
She tried to move toward him, and he stepped back.
And there was another boy behind him. Same eyes. Same jaw. Only whiter, faraway—ghostly.
His brother.
Ava woke up, her heart pounding like a war drum.
She lay there in the blackness, sweating and silent, knowing something had shifted.
This was not a simple attraction.
It was obsession. Gravity. A smoldering flame that, left to burn, would leave all she knew reduced to embers.
---
Monday Morning
Maplewood High's hallways felt colder. Not temperature-wise—but emotionally. Every glance weighed more. Every whisper was like hearing her name.
Ava strode by with her head down, going straight to her locker like no one who mattered was watching. Crystal McKinley, in particular, stood around with her gang, eyes blazing hot like broken glass.
"There she is," Crystal breathed loud enough for everyone to hear. "Our Juliet of the roof."
There was laughter. Acidic. Harsh.
Ava closed her ears off. She was learning to make it not hurt.
Becca fell into step beside her a moment later.
“You’re trending,” she said, offering a half-smile. “If Maplewood had Twitter, you’d be the top hashtag.”
“Lucky me.”
“Also, Crystal may or may not be planning to destroy your life.”
Ava finally turned. “Didn’t she say she didn’t care about him?”
“Sure. Right before she told three different girls that Noah's a 'damaged freak' and you’re just the next girl he’s using to distract himself from.you know.”
Ava's stomach twisted. “From his brother.”
Becca nodded, suddenly serious.
"Do you think that's true?" Ava whispered. "That he's just using me to feel something again?"
"I think Noah doesn't let people close unless they matter. And I think you scare him."
"Why?"
"Because you're the first person who actually sees him."
Third Period – Literature
The chair next to Ava was empty.
Again.
Mr. Kent was talking about Shakespeare's Othello, but Ava wasn't hearing it. She was losing count of the seconds, attempting to ignore the thunder in her chest.
Where was Noah?
He hadn't messaged her all weekend. Hadn't shown up this morning. And now he was absent from the one class they shared together.
Was he avoiding her?
Trying to forget the kiss?
Or something was wrong?
After School – The Rooftop
She forgot to go again.
It was reckless. Stupid. The metal ladder behind the gym was slippery from afternoon rain, and her hands trembled as she climbed.
But when she pushed open the heavy rooftop door, he was there.
Sitting on the ledge again. Hoodie pulled low. A cigarette burning between his fingers, even though she knew he didn’t smoke regularly.
She stepped closer, heart in her throat.
“You’re avoiding me.”
He didn’t look up. “Maybe.”
“That’s not fair.”
He drew in a slow drag. "Life isn't fair."
"You kissed me."
"I did."
"And then disappeared into thin air." "I know."
Ava's voice trembled. "Why?"
Finally, he turned.
And when their eyes met, she saw it—anger. Guilt. Fear. All twisted up into one beautiful, broken boy.
"You make me forget," he whispered. "And that terrifies the hell out of me."
She took a step closer. "Forget what?"
Noah's lips curved as if he was holding back something.
Then he pulled out a crumpled note from his pocket.
YOU CAN KISS HER, BUT YOU CAN'T BURY HIM.
KARMA'S COMING, NOAH.
Ava read it once. Twice.
"Who…?"
"Crystal. Or one of her puppets."
"This is sick."
"This is my life," Noah snapped. "Everybody wants me to wear my sorrow as a costume. Like I'm only allowed to be quiet or broken or sad. The minute I try to live again—this happens."
Ava reached out. "Let me in."
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"Because I'll ruin you."
"You won't."
"I destroyed my brother."
That stopped her short.
He stood up, fists clenched.
"I was going to pick him up that night," Noah said to her, his voice shaking. "From the party. But I was drunk. I made him call a taxi. He never made it home."
Ava stared, heart breaking.
Noah chuckled harshly. "Now everybody either sympathizes with me or despises me. There isn't any middle ground."
"I'm not everybody."
Silence.
Then, suddenly, Noah inched closer—and kissed her again.
But this time it was not desperate.
It was calculated. Like he had made a decision and didn't care about what would happen.
Ava kissed him back, hands in his hair, heart on fire. All else fell away—the sky, the chill, the past. There were only two people trying to live together.
When finally they broke apart, Ava drew breath, "Don't shut me out again."
"I can't promise that."
"But you want to?"
"Yes."
"Then we try.".
He nodded once.
And in that small, fragile instant, Ava felt it: the spark of something real. Something unstable. Something to burn for.
- Writer
