Chapter 4: Partnered with the Enemy
Fourth period English was usually Ava's safe zone.
She liked the room: rows of tidy desks, the posters of Shakespeare and Maya Angelou that had begun to curl at the edges, sunlight filtering through the blinds in neat golden stripes. She liked the faint chalk smell and the shelves lined with battered novels that had passed through hundreds of hands. Most of all, she liked Mrs. Bennett, a teacher who carried herself with calm authority and always seemed to know the answer to every question. Mrs. Bennett spoke with patience, corrected essays with a red pen tucked behind her ear, and believed in order an environment where Ava thrived.
But the moment Ava stepped into class that day, she knew order was about to die.
Mrs. Bennett stood at the front with a stack of papers and a smile the kind of smile teachers wore when they knew they were about to ruin someone's carefully planned week.
"Good afternoon, everyone!" Mrs. Bennett called over the chatter. "Settle down. We've got an exciting announcement today."
Exciting, in teacher-speak, usually means painful. Ava slid into her seat, spine straight, hands folded neatly on her desk, already bracing herself.
"As you know," Mrs. Bennett continued, "we've been studying classic literature and exploring themes of conflict, character growth, and resolution. To deepen your understanding, I'm assigning a group project."
The room groaned collectively.
"Each pair will select a story, analyze its central conflict, and present your findings to the class. Presentations are due in two weeks."
"Why can't we just write an essay?" someone muttered from the back.
Mrs. Bennett didn't so much as blink. She raised her list and began to read.
Assigned partners. That phrase sent a nervous ripple through the class. It meant no control, no careful selection of a best friend who shared your work ethic. It meant fate.
Ava kept her posture perfect, reminding herself that she could work with anyone. She was responsible, focused, organized. Whoever she was paired with, they'd benefit from her structure.
Names were read. Students shifted desks, whispered groans or sighs of relief. Ava tapped her pencil against her notebook, narrowing her eyes at the dwindling list.
Then it came.
"Martinez and Carter."
Ava's pencil snapped clean in half.
Laughter rippled through the room. Heads swiveled between her and the boy slouched two rows back, spinning his pen between long fingers like it was a basketball. Jace Carter grinned, a picture of smug satisfaction, as though the universe had just sent him a personal gift.
"No," Ava blurted before she could stop herself.
Mrs. Bennett's brows rose. "Is there a problem, Miss Martinez?"
"Yes. I mean…no. I just…" Ava stammered, face heating under thirty pairs of eyes. "It's not a good idea."
Jace leaned back lazily in his chair, smirk never wavering. "I think it's a fantastic idea."
Snickers filled the air.
Mrs. Bennett gave Ava a pointed look. "You'll do just fine, Ava. Sometimes growth comes from working with people different from ourselves."
Different? He wasn't different. He was chaos incarnate.
But Mrs. Bennett had already moved on, pairing the next names, leaving Ava to stew in her fate.
The bell rang, and Ava all but slammed her books into her bag. She stormed toward the door, but Jace was quicker, slipping in front of her with infuriating ease.
"Looks like we're partners, Sparkle Queen."
Her eyes narrowed. "Don't call me that."
"Come on, admit it. You're thrilled."
"Thrilled is not the word I'd use."
"Devastated? Heartbroken? Secretly overjoyed?"
"Try nauseated."
He clutched his chest in mock pain. "Ouch. And here I was ready to carry this project on my strong, athletic shoulders."
Ava snorted. "Strong shoulders? You can't even carry your own grades."
Gasps and chuckles echoed from nearby students. Jace's friends elbowed him as they passed, but he didn't flinch. His grin only widened.
"Spicy," he said softly, eyes dancing with mischief. "This is gonna be fun."
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After school, they claimed a table in the corner of the Crestwood library. Ava had arrived first, of course, and arranged her notes in neat rows: sticky notes sorted by color, pens aligned, highlighter uncapped and ready, her planner open with a to-do list already written.
Ten minutes later, Jace ambled in, carrying nothing but a bag of chips.
"You're late," Ava snapped as he dropped into the seat across from her.
"You're uptight," he replied easily, ripping open the bag. The smell of artificial cheese filled the air.
Crumbs scattered across her carefully organized notes. Ava's eyes twitched. "Could you not?"
"Relax, Martinez. Chips are brain food."
"They're grease."
"They're fuel."
She pinched the bridge of her nose. "We need to choose a story. Mrs. Bennett said it has to showcase conflict and resolution. I was thinking…"
"Romeo and Juliet," Jace interrupted immediately.
Ava groaned. "Predictable. Overdone. Tragic."
"Classic," he countered.
"Cliché," she shot back.
"Fine." He leaned back, crunching obnoxiously. "What's your brilliant idea?"
"Pride and Prejudice."
Jace blinked. "Isn't that the one with the fancy people and the boring dances?"
Ava gasped like he'd just insulted her family. "Boring? It's a literary masterpiece."
He grinned. "So basically us…enemies to lovers."
Her jaw dropped. "We are not…"
"Don't worry," he cut in smoothly, "I'll be your Mr. Darcy."
"More like Mr. Disaster."
Their bickering stretched on, bouncing from ridiculous to infuriating.
"You don't take this seriously."
"You take everything too seriously."
"You'll drag my grade down."
"You'll drag me into boredom."
And yet… beneath the irritation, Ava caught flickers of something else. The way Jace leaned forward, elbows resting on the table, teasing but focused. The way he actually listened not always to agree, but enough to twist her words back on her.
The worst part? A tiny, traitorous part of her almost enjoyed it.
Finally, Ava slapped her notebook shut. "We're not getting anywhere. I'll make the outline myself."
Jace raised his brows. "Bossy much?"
"Efficient," she corrected.
"Controlling."
"Organized."
He leaned closer, smirk tugging at his lips. "Cute when you're mad."
Her cheeks betrayed her with a flush. She shoved papers into her bag, ignoring the flutter in her chest. "This partnership is a nightmare."
"Best nightmare you'll ever have," Jace called as she stormed away.
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That night, Ava sat at her desk in her neatly lit bedroom, planner open, pen hovering. She was supposed to be drafting their outline, but the words blurred. Instead, her mind replayed his grin, his maddening voice, his careless confidence.
Best nightmare you'll ever have.
She hated him. She really, really did.
So why couldn't she stop smiling?