Close Enough To Break
1124 Words
The sun bled gold across the classroom walls as the final bell rang. Students rushed out, thrilled for the long weekend ahead—but Benny stayed frozen in her seat, her arms crossed over her chest like a shield.
Mrs. Lane, their literature teacher, clapped her hands for attention.
"Before anyone runs off, pair assignments for the Shakespeare project have been finalized," she said, waving a stack of papers. "You’ll have two weeks. Pick any theme from the play, explore it creatively—skits, poems, anything. Just show me depth."
Benny barely listened—until she heard her name.
"Benny and Zayn. You’re together."
Her gaze darted to the back of the room where *he* sat—Zayn, the school’s golden boy. Eyes like dusk. Smile like sin. He looked up slowly, his lips curving as if the universe had just handed him a private joke.
She hated how her stomach flipped.
As the room emptied, Zayn took his time walking toward her, backpack slung carelessly over one shoulder.
“You gonna survive this partnership, Ice Queen?” he asked, his voice low and teasing.
Benny rolled her eyes, trying to ignore how his cologne lingered between them—clean and warm, like he’d just stepped out of sunlight.
“I’ll survive anything,” she said coolly. “Just don’t slow me down.”
Zayn leaned closer, eyes narrowing slightly. “You sure about that?”
Her breath caught.
Because for a second, it felt like he wasn’t talking about the project at all.
***
Two days later, he was in her living room—sitting cross-legged on the floor, his knees almost brushing hers. The air between them crackled with something unsaid. Benny wore shorts and an oversized tee, trying to seem casual, but she felt *watched*.
Not in a creepy way.
In a way that made her skin tingle.
Zayn leaned back on his elbows, watching her sketch notes. “So… you always this bossy when you’re nervous?”
She looked up sharply. “I’m not nervous.”
He smiled, slow and deliberate. “You’re blushing.”
“I’m not.”
“You kinda are.” His eyes dipped to her lips. “It’s cute.”
She stared at him. Her throat went dry. "We're supposed to be working."
“We are,” he said. “But this... feels like something else.”
He shifted closer.
Now their knees touched.
Benny swallowed hard. Every nerve in her body buzzed like a live wire. His fingers reached out—just lightly brushing the hem of her shirt near her waist, as if testing the space between them.
She didn’t move.
“Zayn…” she whispered, voice barely steady.
His gaze locked on hers. “Tell me to stop.”
Benny wanted to.
God, she wanted to.
But the warmth of his touch felt like everything she’d craved in the shadows—attention, desire, connection. She leaned forward slightly, heart slamming against her ribs…
Until an image flashed in her mind.
Hands that didn’t belong. Breath she didn’t want. A locked room and a voice that said *shhh*.
Benny pulled back instantly, pushing to her feet.
“I—I need a break,” she stammered. “I’ll be back.”
She didn’t look at him as she rushed toward the bathroom, gripping the edges of the sink until her reflection stopped shaking.
Back in the living room, Zayn was still sitting, silent. He hadn’t moved. But his jaw was tight, eyes unreadable.
And Benny knew this wasn’t just a school project anymore.
It was the beginning of something dangerous.
Something she wasn’t sure she was ready for.
*****
Benny avoided him the next day.
She didn’t mean to—it just *happened*. Every hallway, every glance, every moment she thought she saw that familiar hoodie or heard that low laugh, she darted the other way.
She needed space. She needed *air*.
But space didn’t stop the replay in her head.
Zayn, close enough to feel. His fingers near her skin. The way he looked at her—not like a fantasy, but like she was *real*. Wanted.
It terrified her more than anything.
By lunch, she hadn’t seen him once, and her heartbeat was finally steady again—until Nicole flopped into the seat beside her, munching on a granola bar.
“You and Zayn, huh?” Nicole teased, arching a brow.
Benny froze. “What?”
“Project partners. People talk. You two were at your place, right?”
Benny’s grip tightened around her bottle. “It was just school stuff.”
Nicole hummed. “Right. And I read Shakespeare for fun.”
Benny shot her a glare, but Nicole only laughed and bumped her shoulder.
“I’m just saying,” Nicole said, tone softer now. “He’s not like the other boys. Watch your heart.”
Benny blinked. *Watch your heart.* Too late for that.
***
After school, she stayed behind to help the librarian, hoping to kill time and dodge any accidental run-ins.
It worked.
Until she turned the corner near the art block and almost slammed into a wall of muscle and warmth.
Zayn.
His hoodie was off—just a plain black tee stretched over his shoulders. His hair was a little messy, like he’d run his fingers through it a thousand times.
“Benny,” he said, eyes narrowing slightly. “You’ve been dodging me.”
She folded her arms. “I’ve been busy.”
He stepped closer. “Did I do something wrong?”
Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. He looked genuinely confused. Not cocky. Not flirty. Just… worried.
“No,” she finally whispered. “You didn’t do anything.”
A silence stretched between them.
Then Zayn glanced down at the floor before speaking again. “If it’s about what almost happened... I wasn’t trying to mess with you.”
“I know.”
He took another step.
“And I wasn’t just playing.”
Benny’s breath caught.
Zayn’s eyes found hers, dark and soft and searching. “I like you, Benny. Not in some shallow high school crush way. Like… you’re different. You say so little, but I feel so much around you. That scares me.”
Her throat tightened.
“Zayn, I’m not ready,” she said, voice shaking.
He nodded slowly. “Okay.”
But then he reached out—gently brushing his knuckles against hers, a soft touch that sent electricity through her entire arm.
“I’ll wait,” he said.
And with that, he turned and walked away.
Benny stood frozen, hand still tingling, heart pounding so loud she could barely hear herself breathe.
She’d spent so long trying to silence her feelings.
But now, they were screaming.
- Writer
