The Ascension

Chapter 17: Collision Course

Study hall was supposed to be quiet.

A sanctuary of silence where students pretended to work while actually scrolling through their phones or sleeping with their heads on their desks.

Ronnie sat at her usual table near the back window, staring at her open textbook without reading a single word.

Aaron sat across from her.

Not next to her—across.

That was the first sign something was wrong.

They always sat next to each other. Always. It was automatic. Muscle memory.

But this morning, Aaron had hesitated when he walked in.

His eyes had found hers for half a second—just long enough for Ronnie's heart to stutter—and then he'd looked away and taken the seat across from her instead.

Now they sat in silence.

Ronnie pretended to read her biology textbook.

Aaron pretended to work on calculus homework.

Neither of them was fooling anyone.

The air between them felt thick. Heavy. Like the space itself was holding its breath.

Ronnie could feel Aaron's presence like a physical weight.

She was hyper-aware of every movement he made.

The way his pencil tapped against his notebook.

The way he shifted in his seat.

The way his knee bounced under the table—nervous energy he couldn't contain.

She didn't look up.

Couldn't look up.

Because if she did, she'd see his face. And if she saw his face, she'd remember waking up pressed against his chest. She'd remember the warmth of his arms around her. She'd remember the way his body had felt—

Ronnie's face burned.

She stared harder at her textbook.

Across from her, Aaron cleared his throat.

Ronnie's eyes flicked up for a fraction of a second.

Their gazes met.

Aaron's eyes widened slightly.

Ronnie looked away immediately, her heart hammering.

Shit.

Aaron looked down at his homework.

The silence stretched.

Ronnie wanted to scream.

This was ridiculous.

They were best friends. They'd known each other since they were kids. They'd been through everything together.

And now they couldn't even look at each other without—

"Okay," Peter's voice cut through the tension like a knife. "What the f**k is going on with you two?"

Ronnie's head snapped up.

Peter stood at the end of their table, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised in a perfect arch of judgment.

He looked between Aaron and Ronnie with the expression of someone who'd just walked in on a crime scene.

"Nothing," Aaron said quickly.

Too quickly.

"We're fine," Ronnie added.

Also too quickly.

Peter's other eyebrow joined the first. "Uh-huh."

"We are," Aaron insisted.

"Totally fine," Ronnie said.

Peter pulled out the chair next to Ronnie and sat down slowly, his eyes never leaving them.

"You're sitting across from each other," Peter said.

"So?" Aaron said.

"So you never sit across from each other," Peter said. "You always sit next to each other. You have since, like, freshman year."

"We just—" Ronnie started.

"—wanted a change," Aaron finished.

Peter stared at them.

"A change," he repeated flatly.

"Yeah," Aaron said.

"Yep," Ronnie said.

Peter leaned back in his chair. "You two are the worst liars I've ever seen."

"We're not lying," Ronnie said.

"You're definitely lying," Peter said. "You won't even look at each other. What happened?"

"Nothing happened," Aaron said.

His voice cracked slightly on the word nothing.

Ronnie wanted to die.

Peter's eyes narrowed. "Did you guys fight?"

"No," Ronnie said.

"Did Aaron do something stupid?" Peter asked.

"Hey—" Aaron started.

"Did Ronnie do something stupid?" Peter amended.

"No one did anything stupid," Ronnie said through gritted teeth.

"Then why are you acting like you're in a hostage situation?" Peter asked.

Aaron ran a hand through his hair. "We're not—"

"You are," Peter said. "You're both sitting there like someone's holding a gun to your head. It's weird."

Ronnie's jaw tightened.

She needed to change the subject.

Now.

"Have you applied to college yet?" she blurted out.

Peter blinked. "What?"

"College," Ronnie said. "Applications. Have you done yours?"

Peter stared at her for a long moment.

Then he sighed. "You're really not going to tell me what's going on?"

"There's nothing to tell," Ronnie said.

Peter looked at Aaron.

Aaron looked at his homework.

"Fine," Peter said. "Yes. I applied to Berkeley two weeks ago."

"Good," Ronnie said. "That's good."

"I just finished mine," Ronnie added. "Submitted it last night."

Peter turned to Aaron. "What about you?"

Aaron shifted uncomfortably. "I, uh... haven't started yet."

Peter's eyes widened. "You haven't started?"

"I've been busy," Aaron said defensively.

"Busy doing what?" Peter asked. "Staring at Katie's ass?"

Ronnie flinched.

Aaron's face flushed. "I've been training. And dealing with... everything."

"The deadline's in three weeks," Peter said.

"I know," Aaron said.

"Three weeks, Aaron."

"I know," Aaron said. "I'll get it done."

Peter shook his head. "You're a disaster."

"Thanks," Aaron muttered.

"Berkeley's perfect for all of us," Ronnie said, trying to steer the conversation back to safer ground. "You can do social media networking and tech stuff. Aaron can do medical engineering. I can do medical research."

"Assuming Aaron actually applies," Peter said.

"I'll apply," Aaron said.

"When?" Peter asked.

"Soon."

"That's not a timeline."

"This week," Aaron said. "I'll do it this week."

Peter looked skeptical but didn't push.

The bell rang.

Ronnie had never been so grateful for a bell in her life.

She grabbed her bag and stood up so fast she nearly knocked her chair over.

"See you at lunch," she said.

And then she was gone.

Aaron watched her go, his chest tight.

Peter watched Aaron watch her go.

"You're an i***t," Peter said.

"Shut up," Aaron muttered.

The cafeteria was loud.

Too loud.

Aaron could hear every conversation, every laugh, every scrape of a chair against the linoleum floor.

His senses were still adjusting. Still overwhelming.

But Ronnie's voice usually helped.

Ronnie's presence usually grounded him.

Except Ronnie wasn't next to him.

She was walking slightly ahead, her shoulders tense, her hands gripping the straps of her bag like a lifeline.

Peter was between them, talking about something Aaron wasn't listening to.

They were almost to their usual table when—

"Aaron!"

Katie's voice cut through the noise like a bell.

Aaron turned.

Katie was walking toward him, her blonde hair bouncing, her smile bright and perfect.

She was wearing her cheer uniform—short skirt, tight top, everything designed to draw attention.

And it worked.

Half the cafeteria was watching her.

"Hey," Aaron said.

Katie didn't stop walking.

She reached him, looped her arm through his, and pulled.

"Come sit with me," she said.

It wasn't a question.

Aaron blinked. "I was just—"

"Come on," Katie said, tugging him toward the center of the cafeteria.

Aaron looked back at Peter and Ronnie.

Peter rolled his eyes.

Ronnie's face was carefully blank.

"I'll see you guys later," Aaron called over his shoulder.

Katie pulled him away before he could say anything else.

Her table was in the center of the cafeteria.

The center.

Where everyone could see.

Katie's friends were already there—three other cheerleaders, all blonde, all perfect, all watching Aaron with varying degrees of interest and amusement.

Katie sat down and patted the seat next to her.

Aaron sat.

Katie immediately pressed against him.

Her thigh against his.

Her shoulder against his arm.

Her hand resting on his knee.

Aaron's face burned.

He looked across the cafeteria.

Ronnie and Peter were sitting at their usual table near the windows.

Ronnie wasn't looking at him.

Katie leaned closer. "I'm so glad you're sitting with us today."

"Yeah," Aaron said. "Uh, thanks for inviting me."

"Of course," Katie said, her fingers tracing small circles on his knee. "You're always welcome here."

One of Katie's friends—Madison, Aaron thought—leaned forward. "So, Aaron. Katie says you're, like, really strong now."

Aaron shifted uncomfortably. "I guess."

"Can you, like, lift a car?" another girl asked.

"I don't know," Aaron said. "I haven't tried."

"You should try," Madison said. "That would be so hot."

The girls giggled.

Aaron wanted to disappear.

Katie's hand squeezed his knee. "He's amazing," she said. "You should see him."

Aaron forced a smile.

Across the cafeteria, he could feel Ronnie's absence like a missing limb.

Ronnie sat at their table and stared at her lunch.

She wasn't hungry.

She hadn't been hungry in days.

Peter sat across from her, eating a sandwich and watching her with the intensity of a hawk.

"You're not eating," Peter said.

"I'm not hungry," Ronnie said.

"You're never hungry anymore."

"I'm fine."

"You're not fine," Peter said. "You look like you haven't slept in a week."

Ronnie didn't respond.

She could see Aaron across the cafeteria.

Katie was pressed against him like a barnacle.

Her hand was on his knee.

Her head was tilted toward his, her blonde hair falling over her shoulder.

She was laughing at something he said.

Aaron was smiling.

Ronnie looked away.

Her chest felt tight.

"You're staring," Peter said.

"I'm not," Ronnie said.

"You are," Peter said. "You've been staring at him for the last five minutes."

Ronnie picked up her fork and stabbed at her salad.

"I'm eating," she said.

"You're moving food around your plate," Peter said. "That's not eating."

Ronnie glared at him.

Peter glared back.

Then Ronnie's eyes flicked across the cafeteria again.

Just for a second.

Aaron was looking at her.

Their eyes met.

Ronnie's breath caught.

Aaron looked away immediately, his face flushing.

Ronnie looked down at her plate.

Shit.

Peter leaned forward. "Okay. That's it. What the hell happened between you two?"

"Nothing," Ronnie said.

"Ronnie."

"I said nothing."

"You're lying," Peter said. "You've been lying all day. You won't look at each other. You won't sit next to each other. You're acting like you committed a crime together."

Ronnie's jaw tightened.

Peter's eyes widened. "Oh my God. Did you commit a crime together?"

"No," Ronnie said.

"Then what—"

"He fell asleep in my bed," Ronnie snapped.

Peter froze.

His sandwich halfway to his mouth.

His eyes wide.

"What," he said.

Ronnie closed her eyes. "Last night. After training. I was upset and he came over and we talked and I fell asleep and he... stayed."

Peter set down his sandwich very carefully.

"He stayed," Peter repeated.

"Yes."

"In your bed."

"Yes."

"With you."

"Yes, Peter."

Peter leaned back in his chair, his expression shifting from shock to something that looked suspiciously like glee.

"Oh my God," he said.

"It's not—" Ronnie started.

"Did you guys—"

"No," Ronnie said quickly. "Nothing happened."

"Nothing?" Peter asked.

"Nothing," Ronnie said.

Peter studied her face.

Ronnie avoided his eyes.

"You're leaving something out," Peter said.

Ronnie didn't respond.

"Ronnie."

"We were... tangled," Ronnie said quietly.

"Tangled," Peter repeated.

"When we woke up," Ronnie said. "We were—our arms were around each other. And our legs were—we were really close."

Peter's eyebrows shot up. "How close?"

Ronnie's face burned. "Close."

"Like—"

"He had morning wood," Ronnie blurted out.

Peter gasped.

Loudly.

Several people at nearby tables turned to look.

"You slut," Peter said.

Ronnie kicked him under the table. "Shut up. Nothing happened."

"Nothing physically," Peter said, his eyes gleaming. "But mentally? Emotionally? No wonder you two are acting weird."

"We're not acting weird," Ronnie muttered.

Peter scoffed. "You are acting weird in all caps. You can't even look at each other without blushing."

Ronnie stabbed her salad again.

Peter looked across the cafeteria.

Aaron was smiling at something Katie said.

Katie was leaning closer, her hand still on his knee, her expression predatory.

Peter's smile faded.

"Why don't you do something about it?" he asked quietly.

Ronnie's fork stilled.

"About what?" she asked.

"About that," Peter said, nodding toward Katie's table. "About her. About him."

Ronnie's jaw tightened.

She set down her fork.

"I can't," she said.

"Why not?"

"Because," Ronnie said. "Because if I tell him how I feel and he doesn't feel the same way, I'll lose him. Completely."

"You don't know that," Peter said.

"I do know that," Ronnie said. "Things will get awkward. He'll pull away. We won't be able to be partners anymore. We won't be able to be friends anymore. I'll lose everything."

"Or," Peter said, "he feels the same way and you get everything you want."

Ronnie shook her head. "He doesn't."

"You don't know that."

"He's sitting over there with her," Ronnie said, her voice tight. "He's smiling at her. He's letting her touch him. He doesn't feel the same way, Peter."

Peter opened his mouth.

Closed it.

He didn't have an argument for that.

Ronnie looked down at her hands.

"He promised he'd be there for me no matter what," she said quietly. "After everything with training. After everything I've been through. He promised."

"I know," Peter said.

"That's good enough," Ronnie said. "It has to be. Because it's better than nothing."

Peter's expression softened. "Ronnie—"

"I'm fine," Ronnie said.

She wasn't fine.

She was the furthest thing from fine.

But she couldn't say that.

Couldn't admit that every time she looked at Aaron, her chest ached.

Couldn't admit that waking up in his arms had felt like coming home.

Couldn't admit that she was terrified—absolutely terrified—that if she told him the truth, he'd look at her differently.

That he'd see her as a burden.

A complication.

Something to be managed instead of someone to be loved.

So she said nothing.

She picked up her fork.

Moved her salad around her plate.

And pretended everything was fine.

Across the cafeteria, Aaron laughed at something Katie said.

The sound carried over the noise.

Ronnie's chest tightened.

She looked away.

Peter watched her with sad eyes.

"You can't keep doing this," he said quietly.

"Doing what?" Ronnie asked.

"Pretending," Peter said. "Hiding. Waiting for him to figure it out on his own."

"I'm not waiting for anything," Ronnie said.

"You are," Peter said. "You're waiting for him to see you. Really see you. But he's not going to, Ronnie. Not unless you make him."

Ronnie's throat burned.

"I can't," she whispered.

"Why not?"

"Because I'm scared," Ronnie said.

The words came out broken.

Raw.

Peter reached across the table and took her hand.

"I know," he said.

Ronnie squeezed his hand.

Across the cafeteria, Katie leaned closer to Aaron.

Her lips near his ear.

Whispering something that made him smile.

Ronnie looked away.

She couldn't watch this.

Couldn't sit here and watch Katie stake her claim while Ronnie sat in silence.

But she didn't know what else to do.

So she sat.

And she waited.

And she pretended her heart wasn't breaking.

The rest of lunch passed in a blur.

Ronnie didn't eat.

Peter tried to distract her with stories about his latest t****k drama, but Ronnie barely heard him.

All she could think about was Aaron.

The way he'd looked at her this morning when he woke up.

The way his arms had felt around her.

The way his body had pressed against hers.

The way he'd seen her.

Really seen her.

For just a moment.

And then he ran.

Ronnie's chest ached.

The bell rang.

Students started gathering their things, the cafeteria erupting into noise and movement.

Ronnie stood.

Grabbed her bag.

Across the cafeteria, Aaron stood too.

Katie was still pressed against him, her hand on his arm, her smile bright and possessive.

Aaron looked over.

His eyes found Ronnie's.

For a moment, they just stared at each other.

The cafeteria noise faded.

The world narrowed to just the two of them.

Aaron's expression was unreadable.

Conflicted.

Like he wanted to say something but didn't know how.

Ronnie looked away first.

She turned and walked toward the exit, Peter following close behind.

She didn't look back.

Couldn't look back.

Because if she did, she'd see Aaron standing there with Katie.

And that would hurt more than anything Mercer had ever done to her.

So she kept walking.

One foot in front of the other.

Pretending she was fine.

Pretending her heart wasn't shattering with every step.

Behind her, Aaron watched her go.

His chest tight.

His hands clenched into fists.

Katie was talking to him, but he wasn't listening.

All he could see was Ronnie's back as she walked away.

All he could feel was the ghost of her body pressed against his.

All he could think about was the way she'd looked at him this morning.

Vulnerable.

Open.

Scared.

And he ran.

Aaron closed his eyes.

What the hell am I doing?

Katie tugged on his arm. "Aaron? Are you listening?"

Aaron opened his eyes.

Forced a smile.

"Yeah," he said. "Sorry. What were you saying?"

Katie smiled and launched into another story.

Aaron nodded in the right places.

Smiled when he was supposed to.

But his mind was somewhere else.

With someone else.

And he didn't know how to get back.