Ash couldn't help herself. Even when her mission loomed heavy in the back of her mind -like that one overdue library book that keeps sending you passive-aggressive reminders- she found Nile's presence utterly disarming. Whether it was his quick wit, his genuine warmth, or the way he always seemed to light up when he saw her -seriously, the guy practically went full Christmas tree, no assembly required- she welcomed every distraction he offered.
Her favorite moments, though, were the unexpected ones. Like when she was in the quiet stacks of the library during her free period, keeping track of Dom from a distance. Surveillance: it's like people-watching, but with purpose and occasionally a paycheck. She caught sight of Nile in the next aisle, seemingly engrossed in a book, his dark eyebrows furrowed in concentration as his fingers delicately traced the spine of an ancient-looking tome.
A wicked smile spread across her lips, the kind that would make cartoon villains take notes.
She moved quietly, slipping around the shelves until she was behind him, her footsteps as silent as a cat burglar with tenure. The scent of his cologne -something woodsy with hints of citrus- tickled her nose as she drew closer. With a sudden leap worthy of an action movie climax, she tackled him, pinning him gently against the shelf. His startled laugh filled the air as she nibbled on his earlobe, a trick she had quickly learned drove him wild. It was like finding the cheat code to a particularly challenging level.
"You're terrible," he murmured, though the grin on his face betrayed his words. His eyes, a deep amber that seemed to catch fire in certain lights, crinkled at the corners.
When he retaliated with an equally aggressive bout of nuzzling, his stubble grazing against the sensitive skin of her neck, Ash started laughing, her laughter light and melodic as it spilled out into the quiet library like wind chimes in a monastery.
"That tickles, stop it," she gasped between fits of giggles, swatting at him with a playful flick of her hand. Her heart rate accelerated, performing a drum solo that would put rock legends to shame.
But the way her words contradicted her actions betrayed her. Even as she protested, she tilted her head to the side, angling her neck to grant him better access. The soft warmth of his breath against her skin sent a delicious shiver down her spine, like electricity finding its way through a perfect conductor, and she sighed in pleasure, the sound soft and involuntary.
Their playful exchange felt like a private bubble of joy, insulated from the outside world. Her fingers found their way to the nape of his neck, tracing small circles into his skin as if trying to memorize the moment, as if her fingertips could capture and preserve this feeling like a photograph.
Somewhere in the middle of their mutual explorations -his lips brushing against the curve of her neck, her fingers tangling lightly in his hair that felt impossibly soft between her fingers- Ash's heightened senses prickled, the feeling like a faint whisper against the back of her mind. The superhero origin story no one asked for: the ability to sense when someone's watching you make out. Thanks, universe.
The sensation of being watched slid over her like the edge of a blade, cold and sharp, cutting through the warm haze of desire that had enveloped her.
She didn't tense or give away her awareness, though she had a good idea of who it was. Years of training had taught her to maintain her cover no matter what -even if "what" was currently "getting caught in a compromising position in the Fiction section." She could almost feel the simmering heat of jealousy radiating from a hidden vantage point, the force of it unmistakable. If envy had a temperature, whoever was watching would be setting off fire alarms right about now.
Ash decided to lean into it, letting her mischievous side take over. If Dom was going to watch, Ash would give her something to see. A private show with an audience of one -uninvited but not unexpected.
Her fingers trailed down Nile's arm with deliberate slowness, mapping the contours of his muscles beneath his shirt, and she leaned closer, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered something playful, though her words didn't matter so much as the intimate closeness of her voice. "Do you think Jane Austen would approve of us defiling her section?" Nile responded by pulling her tighter, the curve of his smile pressed against her skin, and Ash couldn't help but grin. His body was warm against hers, solid and real in a world that sometimes felt like it was made of smoke and mirrors.
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She smiled inwardly as she heard the faint shuffle of footsteps -the unmistakable sound of someone being dragged away, reluctant but unwilling to make a scene. The hushed voices that followed confirmed her suspicion, whispered urgencies floating through the stacks like literary ghosts.
Dom.
And yet, she found herself once more tucking away her mission for future her to deal with. Sorry, Future Ash, you'll hate me for this later, but Present Ash is having way too much fun.
Ash laughed lightly, the sound more genuine this time as she refocused her attention fully on Nile. Her hands slipped around his shoulders as she pulled him closer, fully savoring the fact that -for now- the moment belonged solely to her. Reality could wait its turn; this moment had cut to the front of the line.
∞
The next morning, Ash arrived at school early, the practice field and track practically deserted in the cool dawn light. The campus looked like the establishing shot of a teen drama -all perfect landscaping and golden morning light, just waiting for the beautiful people to arrive and complicate things. She breathed in deeply, savoring the crispness of the morning air, tinged with the earthy scent of dew-soaked grass. The faint hum of distant traffic and the occasional bird song created a calm backdrop as she started jogging.
The field was hers for the moment, and she let herself go, gradually pushing her pace until her legs were pumping furiously, her sneakers pounding rhythmically against the track. The wind rushed past her ears, carrying with it a sense of liberation. She was flying, a streak of energy cutting through the stillness, a human comet with her own gravitational pull.
Her freedom was short-lived, however. After only a few laps, other early-rising students trickled onto the field, their presence intruding on her solitude like unwelcome pop-up ads. Ash slowed her pace, transitioning to a gentle jog before coming to a stop. The burn in her legs and the thrum of her pulse told her she was just getting started. Her body was an instrument she had spent years learning to play, and these morning sessions were her favorite symphony.
Shaking off the interruption, she switched to stretching. The smooth pull of her muscles as she bent and flexed brought a satisfied smile to her lips. Feeling properly limbered up, she moved to the center of the field. Her sharp gaze swept across the expanse of grass, now sprinkled with students, but none too close to interfere. She crouched low, focused, and launched into a series of gymnastic routines -cartwheels, backflips, and aerial twists that would make Olympic gymnasts do a double-take. Each move was precise, fluid, her body executing each action with a controlled grace honed by years of practice.
The physical exertion thrilled her, and she kept at it, pushing herself harder until a fine sheen of sweat coated her skin, glistening in the morning sunlight like she'd been dipped in liquid diamond. By the time she finished, her breath was coming in controlled gasps, her body warm and energized. She stood at the edge of the field, hands on her hips, letting the cool breeze dry her skin and rustle through her hair, which had partially escaped its ponytail to frame her face in rebellious tendrils.
As she was about to leave, her eyes caught movement -two girls walking toward her with unmistakable purpose. Their strides were confident, their gazes locked onto her like predators zeroing in on prey. If this were a nature documentary, the Aussie narrator would be whispering ominously about territorial displays.
Ash straightened, tilting her head slightly as she regarded them. One had olive-toned skin and dark brown, glossy hair that framed a striking face with cheekbones sharp enough to be on display in the Louvre. The other was the epitome of Celtic beauty, with a smattering of freckles across her pale cheeks like constellations on a clear night and hair the fiery hue of autumn leaves cascading down her shoulders. Both radiated an aura of self-assuredness, their beauty amplified by the way they carried themselves. They moved with the synchronized confidence of people who'd been running the school hallways since freshman orientation.
She remembered them from the photos she'd studied of Dom and Nile. Jacky Larson and Nicky Briten. Best friends of Dom's, nearly as inseparable from her as Nile. The Three Musketeers, if the Musketeers wore designer clothes and could destroy your social life with a single Instagram post.
Well, this is interesting, Ash thought, a small smile curving her lips. Enter the queen's guard, right on cue.
If they thought she'd roll over and submit to their obvious scrutiny, they were in for a surprise. Ash stayed where she was, wiping her hands on the hem of her shirt as she waited for them to close the distance. She didn't bother toweling off, instead letting the breeze cool her naturally, carrying with it the mingling scents of grass and earth. Let them see her in her element, comfortable in her own skin.
When they were close enough to hear, Ash greeted them, her tone light and polite. "Ladies, it's a lovely morning, isn't it?" The kind of morning that just screams 'impending interrogation by the popular clique.'