AVALINE
It was Monday, and something about the day already felt… different. Maybe it was the way the sun peeked through the window, or how I couldn't stop smiling like a complete dork on the bus, earphones in, music low, thoughts loud. I couldn't wait to see Bella. I mean, it wasn't like anything serious happened… but it kind of did? Maybe?
As soon as I got to school, I slipped into class, eyes briefly landing on Alex. He was scribbling something, completely zoned in. Ugh. Even when he wasn't looking at me, he was annoying. I quickly looked away. No way I'm speaking to him first. But... how were we supposed to finish this project now?
Break time came fast, and I opened my locker to grab my phone. A message from Noah blinked on the screen:
"What you doin'? We on break. What about you?"
He followed it with a selfie — soda in hand, full smile, eyes crinkled like he just said something funny.
I snorted. Not the most elegant sound, but I couldn't help it.
Smiling, I snapped a quick photo of myself leaning against the lockers, books in hand.
"Just called for break now," I texted back.
His reply came fast:
"You're always beautiful."
My heart did that stupid jumpy thing again. I bit my bottom lip, trying to hide my face — but I could feel the blush creeping in.
"You gonna tell me what the hell you're smiling at like that?"
I jumped. Bella was standing in front of me, eyes narrowed like a detective. I hadn't even noticed her there.
"Jeez, Bella, you scared me," I said, quickly locking my phone.
She lunged before I could react.
"Oh no you don't," she grinned, snatching my phone out of my hands. "You were BLUSHING, Avaline. BLUSHING."
"It's nothing! I was just… reading a meme or something—"
"Really? Let me see this 'meme' that got you smiling like someone dropped sugar in your brain."
She swiped like a crazy woman while I tried to snatch my phone back, whispering frantically, "Bella! Stop! There are people here!"
"Then spill. Now."
With a groan, I gave in. "Okay! There's this guy. That party, remember? The one I talked to for like… when you left me?"
Bella's eyebrows lifted. "Alex's party?"
I nodded. "Yeah… but not him! It was the guy who was talking to me that night. He came to the café on Friday. He got cookies. And coffee. And… he smiled."
Bella's eyes lit up like fireworks. "Oh. My. God. You gave him your number?"
I nodded again, now hiding my face. "And he tipped me… a lot."
Bella clutched her heart like she was going to faint. "A tip? Girl, we're keeping him."
"We're not a thing," I said quickly. "We're just texting. Friends. I'm focused, remember?"
"Oh, shut up. You've got that crush blush. Let me see what he said."
I pulled up the chat, handed her the phone.
"He's cute," I said, squinting at the selfie. "Nice teeth. Looks expensive."
I laughed. "He's funny too."
Bella giggled. "Well, I don't trust him — he's friends with Alex, right?"
"I mean… probably. But he doesn't feel like Alex."
She arched an eyebrow. "They never do, bestie?. They never do?."
I rolled my eyes and laughed. "Anyway. Promise me you won't tell Josh."
Bella grinned. "No promises. He's gonna scream. You KNOW he loves this drama."
I grabbed her hand and started walking. "I need water. Let's go eat."
Behind me, Bella whispered, "I think I like him for you."
And honestly? That was the problem.
I think… I might like him too.
⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✧ ⋅.} ────── ⊰
ALEXANDER
Baseball practice was over, but the field still smelled like dirt, sweat, and whatever cologne Theo thought could hide the fact that he hadn't showered in two days.
We were spread out on the bleachers, gloves tossed in a pile, bats resting against the bench. The sun was sinking low enough to cast that golden, end-of-day glow over everything, and for a moment it looked like we were in one of those overly sentimental sports movies. If you ignored the fact that Caleb was chugging from his water bottle like he'd been crawling through the Sahara, and Mason was peeling the tape off his bat handle like a psychopath.
"You almost fucking lost us that scrimmage today," Theo said, leaning forward with that shit-eating grin that meant he'd been waiting for this moment all practice.
I tilted my head at him. "You mean the scrimmage we won? Yeah, I'm sorry my definition of 'losing' doesn't include 'winning by three runs.'"
"Winning by three runs because I hit a triple," Theo shot back, pointing at himself like he'd just ended world hunger. "Meanwhile, Captain Worthington over here was too busy checking out the girls in the stands to notice the ball coming his way."
"I caught the ball," I said flatly.
"Yeah, but you caught it like a fucking runway model, Alex. All slow and pretty, like—" Theo got up and mimicked me, complete with some exaggerated prissy hand movements that made Ryan and Cole wheeze like hyenas.
"Jesus Christ," I muttered, shoving him back onto the bench. "You've been riding my ass all week."
"That's not the only thing I'd ride," Theo smirked.
"Fuck off," I shot back without missing a beat, and that got a round of "ooooooh" from the guys.
Caleb laughed so hard he almost fell backward. "Damn, Alex, he's coming for you in more ways than one."
"Don't flatter him," I said, picking up my glove and tossing it onto the pile. "Theo couldn't handle me if he tried."
Theo grinned, leaning closer. "You think I haven't handled worse?"
"Not what your ex said," I muttered, and Ryan damn near spit his drink out.
"Holy shit," Mason said, holding his hand up like we were in court. "I was there for that breakup. Dude, she did say you were trash in bed."
Theo threw his cap at Mason. "She said I was trash because I broke up with her. Context matters, assholes."
"Context?" I snorted. "The context is you don't know what the fuck you're doing."
The whole bench erupted in laughter, and Theo shook his head at me like he was about to make it personal. Which, knowing Theo, meant something even dumber was about to come out of his mouth.
"At least I'm fucking," he said, smirking. "When's the last time you got laid, Captain Virgin?"
"I'm not a virgin," I said automatically.
"That's not convincing," Ryan said, grinning.
"Yeah, man," Caleb chimed in, "you said that way too fast."
I leaned back, giving them all the laziest glare I could manage. "Just because I don't talk about every time I hook up doesn't mean it doesn't happen. Some of us don't need a fucking scoreboard for our dicks."
Theo put his hands up. "Alright, alright. But seriously, if your sex life was a batting average, it'd be like… .020."
I smirked. "Still better than yours. You've been stuck in the minors for years."
The guys howled, Mason slapping his knee like a cartoon grandpa. Theo pointed at me with his glove. "You know what? Fuck you, Worthington."
"You've been trying," I said dryly, and Mason almost toppled over from laughing again.
Ryan, wiping his eyes, said, "Speaking of fucking—Cole, tell them about that girl from the diner."
Cole groaned but grinned anyway. "Jesus, okay, so I take this girl home, right? And everything's going good—like, real good—and then she stops and says she can't do it because my room looks like a crime scene."
"Your room is a crime scene," Mason said.
"Of what?" Theo asked. "Bad taste?"
Cole shot him the finger. "No, she meant all the laundry piles. She said it smelled like… what was the word? Oh, 'teenage boy sadness.'"
We lost it again. My stomach actually hurt from laughing.
"Dude, that's fucking poetic," Theo said between laughs. "You should put that on your Tinder bio."
"You mean Grindr," I said casually, and Cole groaned loud enough to make it sound true.
"You're an asshole," Cole said.
"I've been told," I said, grabbing my bag from the ground.
The laughter was still dying down when I saw a shadow moving in my peripheral. I turned my head, and there was this freshman—one of the ones who always looked like he was about to bolt if you looked at him too long—standing a few feet away, fidgeting like he didn't know if he should step closer.
He cleared his throat. "Uh… Worthington?"
I raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"
"Mr. Dawson wants to see you."
The guys all ooo'd like I'd just been called to the teacher's office for something scandalous.
Theo smirked. "Uh-oh. Someone's in trouble."
I ignored them, slinging my bag over my shoulder. "Try not to jerk each other off while I'm gone."
"Can't promise anything," Theo said, grinning as I walked off the field.
⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✧ ⋅.} ────── ⊰
AVALINE
I came home feeling a weird mix of tired and giddy. My cheeks still ached a little from all the smiling I'd done during the day. It was stupid, I know. Smiling because a boy texted me? God. But it wasn't just any boy. Noah was... different. He made me feel a kind of warm I wasn't used to. Not in a fireworks-and-symphony kind of way. More like a soft sunrise after a long night. Gentle.
I had just started working on an assignment at my desk, my notebooks scattered around like a paper explosion, when I heard a soft knock at the door. Before I could say anything, the door opened slowly and Mom walked in, holding two mugs of coffee. One of them was for her, obviously—she was practically a coffee ambassador—but she handed the other one to me with that gentle smile of hers.
"Thought you could use something warm," she said, settling on the edge of my bed.
I smiled and set my pen down. "Thanks, Mom."
She took a sip from her mug, watching me. "How was school today?"
I shrugged. "It was okay. Same old."
She raised an eyebrow. "'Okay' doesn't sound like much. Anything interesting happen?"
I hesitated, then sighed and sat up straighter. "Well... it's about the school project. The resume one I told you about."
Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Yeah?"
I rolled my eyes and set the mug down on the desk. "My partner's not serious. I mean, he's just... not interested. And the teacher said we have to do it together to get a grade."
"What kind of kid is your partner?" Mom asked, her tone immediately shifting to that protective-mom tone.
I stared at my desk. "He's a boy. Rich. Popular. And he just doesn't want anything to do with a girl like me."
There. I said it.
Mom tilted her head, scoffing softly. "What does that even mean? A girl like you?"
I sighed again, curling my knees up on the chair. "You know what I mean. I'm not part of their world. I'm not flashy or confident or interesting."
"Well, it's his loss," she said, brushing a hand over my hair gently. "And just because he's rich and popular doesn't mean he has sense."
I smiled weakly. "Thanks. I'm just... tired, Mum. School is tiring."
She leaned in and gave me a warm hug, her coffee still in one hand. "I've been there. You'll be okay. You always are. You're stronger than you think, Avaline."
I rested my head on her shoulder for a moment before she stood and said, "Alright, I'll leave you to it. Dinner in an hour."
Just as she walked out and closed the door, my phone beeped.
I turned around, my heart doing a little skip because for some ridiculous reason—I knew who it was.
Sure enough, Noah.
Noah: "How you doin'?"
I giggled before I could stop myself. That stupid little giggle that only happens when someone says something you didn't expect but totally wanted.
I typed back:
Me: "I'm fine. How about you?"
Seconds later:
Noah: "You have a beautiful smile."
Blush. Immediate blush.
My cheeks flamed as I covered my face with my palm. That was... the seventh compliment today? Or was it sixth?
Me: "Thank you."
Then:
Noah: "Can I call you? Like, I mean a FaceTime?"
Oh.
Panic.
I sat up straight. My eyes darted to the mirror on my vanity. I hadn't even looked at myself since I got home. I was wearing an oversized t-shirt and some comfy pants, my hair a bit wild from the wind earlier. I looked like a literal mess.
Without thinking, I ran to my drawer, grabbed my lip gloss, applied it a little too fast, and smoothed my hair with my fingers. I threw on a long sleeve top to look slightly more put together and returned to my phone.
Me: "Oh. Yes."
And then...
The call came in.
I hesitated for half a second, then swiped to accept.
His face appeared—Noah, smiling on the other side of the screen, his curls a little messy and his eyes soft.
"Hi," I said, my voice a little too breathy.
He just smiled at first, saying nothing. Then finally, "Hi."
Silence.
"You're beautiful," he said again, gently.
I smiled shyly and looked down. "You've said that like six times today."
"And I'll say it forever."
I bit my lip. "You look beautiful too."
His brows lifted playfully. "Wow. Thank you."
I glanced at the background of his screen. "Your room's really nice."
He turned the camera a little. "You mean this old thing?" he joked.
I laughed. "It's beautiful. Very... aesthetic."
And it was. Clean black walls with grey undertones, a white desk with a glowing monitor, LED strip lights that ran around the ceiling casting a cool soft hue. Posters of artists I didn't recognize but looked super cool. A large bed with black sheets. Organized chaos. Just... cool.
"What's your favorite color?" he asked.
"Purple," I said.
He grinned. "I guessed. Your energy is very purple."
I laughed. "What does that even mean?"
"It means you're calm, deep, mysterious... warm."
Wow.
"What about you?" I asked.
"I don't really have one," he replied. "But if I had to choose? Black and white."
"That's boring."
"Nah. It's classic."
I rolled my eyes playfully. "Okay, classic boy. Lemme see the rest of your room."
"It's messy."
"I won't judge."
He adjusted the camera and did a slow pan. More posters. A guitar in the corner. A bookshelf with a few novels stacked horizontally. A basketball.
"I like it," I said honestly.
"Thanks," he replied, then returned the camera to his face. "So, what's Avaline like outside school and work?"
I chuckled. "Um... she sleeps, eats, watches reruns of 'New Girl' and reads too many webtoons."
"That's a solid resume."
"What about you?"
"Plays basketball. Watches anime. Eats. Plays more basketball."
We went on and on. He asked about my favorite food. I said pasta. He said pizza. I booed him.
He said he used to collect comic books and I told him about the time I accidentally threw my brother's comic collection into a mop bucket thinking they were trash. (He laughed so hard.)
He made a joke about being Spider-Man and I said he looked more like Deadpool if Deadpool wore white hoodies and had curly hair.
He made a sad face and said, "That's a compliment. Right?"
I nodded. "A confusing one."
We kept talking. For what felt like hours. Just laughing. Rambling. Nothing too serious. I told him about how I once tried to bake cookies but forgot to put in sugar and they came out like rocks. He laughed. I laughed harder.
And somewhere between talking about what superpower we'd want (I picked invisibility, he said teleportation), I didn't even realize I'd laid back on the bed, still holding the phone up, listening to his voice.
The screen grew a little blurry. My eyes fluttered shut.
The last thing I remember hearing was his voice saying, "Hey... you still there?"
But I was already asleep.
Dreaming.
Of soft curls and warmer smiles.
⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✧ ⋅.} ────── ⊰
ALEXANDER
The kid couldn't have been more than fourteen, standing there at the edge of the field like he'd just been sent to deliver news of my execution.
"Uh… Worthington? Mr. Dawson wants to see you. In his office."
There was a pause.
"Now?" I asked, already knowing the answer.
He nodded, clutching his clipboard like a damn shield.
Perfect. Just what I needed after practice — a teacher summoning me like I was a naughty puppy. I tossed my glove onto the bench, ignoring the curious looks from the guys.
Mr. Dawson's office was in that weird in-between hallway near the admin block — too far from the classrooms to be convenient, but close enough that you couldn't use the "I got lost" excuse. I took my time getting there, partly because I hated looking like I was in a hurry for a teacher, and partly because… well, Dawson was the kind of guy who liked making an entrance intimidating. Might as well make him wait.
When I finally knocked, I heard his clipped "Come in."
I stepped inside, hands in my pockets. Dawson was sitting at his desk, sleeves rolled up, glasses on, looking like a man who'd read too many books and was this close to losing patience with the world.
"Mr. Worthington," he said, motioning for me to sit. His voice had that teacher-tone — not quite angry, but very, very tired.
I sat. "What's up?"
"I heard," he began slowly, "that you are not working with your project partner. Miss Frost, isn't it?"
I shrugged. "She's… not really fit for it."
His eyebrow arched. "May I know why you say that?"
"Sure," I said, leaning back. "Because every time I've seen her, she looks like she's about to have a panic attack if anyone breathes too close. I'm not looking to babysit. It's a literature project, not a therapy session."
Dawson's lips pressed into a thin line. "That's your excuse?"
"Pretty solid one, if you ask me."
He didn't laugh. Not even a smirk. Just stared at me like he was weighing the pros and cons of throwing a stapler.
"You do realize," he said finally, "that your actions can cost her her scholarship. You know she's here on a scholarship. If she doesn't submit this project, it will affect her records. And I will not be writing anything for either of you if I don't see evidence of collaboration."
I stared back at him, unblinking. He hated that — I could see the muscle in his jaw twitch.
"Maybe," he continued, "because you have other opportunities, you think others do as well. They don't, Worthington. Don't use your privilege to drag someone else down. She needs this."
I said nothing.
"You will work with her."
"Yes, sir." My tone was flat, not respectful. Just… acknowledgment.
"Good," Dawson said. "Because Oxford may be what your father wants, but you've made it very clear Harvard is what you want. And believe it or not, I'm willing to help you get there. But you also have no room to fail. Understood?"
I exhaled. "I understand."
He leaned back in his chair. "And if I get another report from her about you refusing to cooperate, I will have no choice but to report you to your father. And you know what that might mean for your playing."
That snapped my head up. "No, sir. You wouldn't do that."
He smirked — not the nice kind. "Try me, Alex. Now go work with her. You have only a few days left. If you don't submit early, both of you will face the consequences."
I nodded once. "Got it."
"You may leave."
Walking out, I shoved my hands back in my pockets, already debating whether apologizing to her — just enough to get the damn project done — was worth the blow to my pride. Probably. As long as she did her part, she could be out of my life again, and I could get back to… well, living without her face popping into my day.
I stepped back onto the field just in time for Theo to see me.
"Aw, look who survived the honeymoon meeting!" he called.
"Fuck off," I said, grabbing my glove again.
"What'd he say? You getting detention? Expelled? Adopted?" Mason asked.
"Probably cried in Dawson's arms," Caleb added.
Theo smirked. "Nah, Dawson just gave him a private pep talk. Probably told him he was his favorite student."
I threw the ball at Theo's shins — not hard enough to injure, but enough to make him flinch.
"Jesus, Worthington!" he yelped.
I smirked. "You asked for it."
They laughed, and I sat back down on the bench, ignoring them. My mind was already elsewhere. Not on baseball. Not even on Dawson's warning. Just… on the fact that I'd have to actually see her again.
⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✧ ⋅.} ────── ⊰