Page 50 of Ignition

Chest heaving, lungs rattling as if something had punched holes in them, my widened eyes fixed on hers. In them, I saw my horror mirrored back at me.

The umbrella clattered to the floor as her fingers went slack, the sound thundering in the hollow of my chest. Or maybe that was the sound of my heart trying to break out of my ribs.

My gaze did a traitorous double-back to her mouth, before I forced myself to turn on my heel and bolt. I put distance between us—before my head whirled around, and I caught a glimpse of her over my shoulder: still slumped against the wall, chest heaving, draped in my jacket, like I’d left her suspended in time.

Her furious blush burned itself into my retinas.

My footsteps rang in my ears, kicking up gravel as I trudged on.

Away from her.

And what would’ve been a monumental mistake.

The warmth of the café hit me, welcome for once, as I stepped inside. Even as I’d had a hot shower and changed, my skin still carried hints of feverish cold from earlier.

My eyes scanned the room for Pri, skipping over groups who were trying a little too hard to catch my attention, over waiters bustling around and carrying trays in a coordinated blur.

Chatter slowed, then picked up as I passed, buzzing in my ears and building a headache at the base of my skull. Vanilla, coffee, and sweetness clung to the air, making my stomach drop with vivid recollection.

Finally, I spotted her sitting cross-legged in the armchair by the fireplace, talking fast with who I assumed was Mark, judging by her tone and animated gestures.

My hand plucked the phone from her, eliciting a gasp of surprise swallowed by the loud hum of the café. The rain drummed on outside, faintly audible despite the soundproofing of the place.

“She’s busy, Mark. Don’t be a clinger.”

My thumb pressed end call before he could answer, and my jaw cemented shut as she looked up and glared at me. She opened her mouth to argue, but my expression snapped it closed.

“Why didn’t you tell me Mia’s getting bullied?”

Her brows flew up to her hairline. A split-second later, she recovered enough to let out a grim, savage laugh.

“Pot, kettle.”

“That’s different!” My voice hissed through gritted teeth.

“Is it? Didn’t you do something unspeakable a week or so ago?”

“It’s not the same,” I found myself saying, though I fought a frown.

Would she lump me in with them?

The vice around my ribs tightened, until I almost winced.

My fingers tapped against the round table, eyes on the downpour outside. The pitter-patter only brought up flashes of her clutching the ruined blazer to her chest, of the dark streaks painting her cheeks. Christ. Why had that sent me into a tailspin?

Lightning arced across the sky, then thunder rumbled in the distance, but all I heard was the sound of her voice breaking. I couldn’t get it out of my head. It reminded me too horribly of another day I half-wished to erase.

My fingers gripped the wood until it groaned as I wrestled with myself. I didn’t know why the fuck I cared, but I cared so much, my insides ached.

I told myself I was the only one allowed to mess with her.

It sounded flimsy even to my own ears.

“Someone vandalised her uniform. Wrote a bunch of shit on it. Tore it to shreds,” I bit out, teeth grinding.

Pri’s face had drained of colour, hands covering her mouth as she slumped against the table, propped on her elbows, staring at nothing.

“She—she didn’t say…” She chewed on the inside of her cheek, brows almost touching.