Burn me slowly

Chapter7:Tangled Sparks

Faye

Vivienne’s Stay gone note is still a raw wound as I push through the glass door of the campus coffee shop, the sharp tang of chicory and roasted beans hitting me. New Orleans’ morning humidity slinks through the open windows, sticking to my skin. My backpack feels heavier today, stuffed with my laptop and the notes I pieced together last night after Vivienne’s sabotage.

I spot Sam at our corner table, her laptop glowing, braids swept into a high bun. She’s typing, but her eyes flick up as I slump into the chair across from her, my iced latte sloshing.

“You look like you didn’t sleep,” Sam says, half-teasing, half-concerned. She leans back, arms crossed, her gold hoops glinting. “What’s got you so stormy, Faye?”

I trace the condensation on my cup, avoiding her gaze. Sam’s my anchor, always seeing through my walls, but admitting Vivienne’s attack feels like giving her power. Especially with Ezra and Jude in the mix, my high school bullies, now stuck with me in this English Lit project. Ezra, Vivienne’s ex, is her obsession’s target. And I? I’m collateral.

“Vivienne trashed my notes,” I mutter, barely louder than the coffee grinder’s hum. “Left a note in my bag. Told me to disappear.”

Sam’s eyes narrow, her body tensing. “That’s not just her usual venom, Faye. That’s harassment. Report her to the dean. Now.”

My stomach twists. Vivienne’s smirk flashes in my mind, her high school voice hissing, Ghost. Ezra’s cruel laugh. Jude’s smirk. They were her shadows back then, tearing me down.

“And then what?” I say quietly. “She’s got her sorority minions, probably half the faculty charmed. I report her, she’ll hit harder.”

Vivienne’s after me because I’m working with Ezra, the ex she’s still obsessed with. High school was her breaking me to keep him. Now it’s the same.

“You know her.”

Sam leans forward, voice low and fierce. “You’re not that high school kid, Faye. Let her slide, she’ll keep coming. Show her you’re not scared.”

Her words spark something in me, but fear coils in my stomach like a cold knot. Reporting Vivienne feels like taunting a viper.

“I’ll think about it,” I say, dodging her fire.

She huffs, but before she can push further, the door swings open.

Ezra strides in, leather jacket slung over his shoulder, dark hair messy like he doesn’t care. My pulse stumbles, and I curse myself. Yesterday’s library session, his gaze lingering on my lips, that accidental knee-bump, left me raw. Vivienne’s warning that he’s trouble clashes with the heat he stirs in me.

I can’t erase his high school cruelty, his laughter echoing as Vivienne shoved me, his voice cutting through the halls: Nobody cares, Faye.

So why do his eyes pull me now?

He slouches into the seat next to Sam, tossing her a lazy grin before his gaze lands on me, heavy, searching.

“Project time?” he asks. His voice is low, rough, testing my edges.

That uninvited warmth creeps up my neck, and I hate my traitorous body for it.

“Yeah,” I say, pulling out my laptop to hide it. “Let’s finish the character analysis.”

I open my digitized notes, thank God I backed them up before Vivienne’s stunt, and try to focus on Wuthering Heights and Jane Eyre. But my mind spins with Vivienne’s obsession and my past with Ezra and Jude.

We’re barely into Heathcliff’s motivations when the door jingles again.

Jude saunters in, hazel eyes glinting, swaggering like he owns the room. My stomach drops.

Jude. Vivienne’s high school sidekick. Ezra’s partner-in-crime back then. And now part of our project group, a cruel twist. He was there when they bullied me, smirking as Vivienne and Ezra broke me.

He drags a chair over, flipping it backward and straddling it. His grin locks onto me.

Ezra leans over, nudging Jude’s shoulder with a quick, easy jab. Their familiarity is a knife in my chest.

How can Ezra be so tight with someone who watched me bleed?

“Late as usual,” Ezra says lightly, though his eyes flick to me, like he’s checking my reaction.

Jude shrugs, smirking. “Had to make an entrance.” His gaze slides to me, too bold. “Faye, you’re looking like trouble today.”

I tense. My fingers stall on my keyboard.

“We’re working,” I say sharply.

Sam glances at me, curious. Jude leans closer, his citrusy cologne sharp, his grin unfazed.

“Come on, Faye,” he says, voice smooth as silk. “You’re a fire I’d chase. Don’t freeze me out.”

His hand brushes my knee under the table,light, but deliberate. My skin prickles, unease spiking with a spark I shove down hard. I jerk my leg away, heart thudding. Vivienne’s face flashes in my mind. Is he messing with me for her, even in our project?

Ezra’s book slams shut. The sound slices through the shop’s chatter.

His eyes lock onto Jude, dark and sharp, jaw tight. “Focus, man.”

His voice is low, edged with something raw.

Jude chuckles and leans back, but his eyes still spark, like he’s poking Ezra on purpose. Ezra’s glare holds, jealous, possessive. Yet he still gives Jude a playful shove.

Their ease screams shared history.

My breath catches.

Ezra’s jealousy feels like a claim I don’t want, not from the guy who mocked me in high school. But it pulls at me anyway, twisting my anger into something dangerous.

“Chill,” Jude says, grinning, returning Ezra’s shove with a mock punch. “Just keeping it lively.”

His tone is light, but his eyes stay on me, testing.

And I’m back there. Sixteen years old. The locker room thick with chlorine. Vivienne shoving me against the tiles, hissing, Nobody wants you here, ghost.

Jude’s there. Smirking.

Ezra’s laughter nearby.

Their silence louder than her cruelty.

They didn’t stop her.

Now Jude’s flirting, like a wink can erase guilt. Sitting at my table, acting like nothing happened.

I shake it off and force my voice steady, dragging us back to Heathcliff’s obsession. But my focus is gone.

Jude keeps tossing flirty comments. Each one earns a sharp glance from Ezra, whose pen taps restlessly, eyes flicking between us.

Jude’s playing a game, riling Ezra up. Their quick grins and shoves show how close they are. I’m trapped in the crossfire, my body betraying me with a subtle heat up my spine.

Not from Jude.

From Ezra’s jealousy.

We’re wrapping up, my notes a mess, when Jude’s phone buzzes.

He glances at it, grin flickering. I catch the screen before he angles it away: a single “V.”

My blood runs cold.

Vivienne?

It could be anyone. But my gut screams it’s her.

Her obsession with Ezra could easily drive her to plant Jude here, even in our project group, just to watch me.

Suspicion chokes me.

“Gotta run,” Jude says, standing, tossing Ezra a quick fist-bump. “Faye, coffee soon. Just us.”

He winks.

I force a nod, mind racing.

Ezra’s chair scrapes as he stands. His eyes track Jude out the door.

“He’s laying it on thick,” he mutters, half-teasing, though jealousy lingers in his tone.

It sends a shiver through me. The past, his cruelty, and this new, confusing pull mix like poison and fire.

“Old baggage,” I reply vaguely, shoving my laptop into my bag.

Sam’s watching me, lips pursed, but I’m not ready to unpack any of it. Not Jude. Not Ezra. Not with Ezra’s presence crackling beside me, making my skin hum with tension.

We step into the New Orleans heat, the street alive with the wail of a trumpet and the chatter of passing tourists.

Sam nudges me as Ezra walks ahead, his shoulders tense.

“You okay?” she whispers. “That was... intense.”

“Yeah,” I lie, voice thin.

I’m not okay.

Jude’s flirting. That V text. Ezra’s jealousy. They’re tangling me up.

I want to hate Ezra. I want to keep him at a distance. But his reaction to Jude stirs something dangerous. Something I don’t trust.

Jude, his charm hides the boy who watched me break. He might still be tied to Vivienne, part of whatever twisted game she’s playing.

I pull out my phone, needing something real.

Mom’s text from last night glows on the screen.

Miss you too, baby. You’re tougher than you know.

I swallow hard and type: Rough day. Love you.

I hit send, the words grounding me.

Vivienne’s note. Jude’s smirk. Ezra’s eyes.

They’re sparks, threatening to catch.

But I won’t burn.

I’ll unravel Jude’s game. Face Vivienne’s venom. And deal with whatever Ezra’s stirring, bully or not.

I’m not that ghost anymore.