-AVALINE-
I didn't even realize I had stormed into Mr. Dawson's office until I was already halfway in, the door swinging behind me like a scene from a bad teenage drama.
No knock. No "good morning." Just my frustration leading the way.
"I can't do this sir!" I blurted out, not caring that I probably looked like I'd lost my mind. "I can't work with him, sir. I just—can't."
Mr. Dawson looked up slowly from his stack of papers, blinking at me over the rim of his glasses like I was some wild raccoon that had wandered in from the forest.
"I mean—sorry for barging in," I added quickly, breathless. "But sir, I can't work with that boy. I've tried. I've tried to be calm and professional, but he—he just makes it impossible!"
Mr. Dawson raised one brow.
"I'm talking about Alex Worthington," I clarified, as if that part wasn't already obvious from the storm cloud I'd walked in with. "He's rude, and smug, and cold—and I think he genuinely enjoys making people feel small. He didn't even show up the day we got the project instructions, and I waited like some hopeful fool. Then he left me a paper—yes, a literal paper—telling me to meet him like we were in a spy movie or something. And when I finally did, all he did was insult me."
I exhaled sharply and threw my arms slightly in the air.
"If I handled this on my own, I'd be done by now. Maybe even already have a draft to submit. You want college recommendation essays? Done. I'm serious about this, sir. I need that scholarship. College isn't optional for me—it's the whole point. And him? He probably already has schools begging at his feet. He doesn't need this. But I do."
Mr. Dawson was still blinking. Slowly. Like I was a tabby cat who had just spilled hot tea on his syllabus.
"And honestly—" I added, breathing heavily, "if there's any way you can assign me someone else, someone normal—kind, even—who doesn't make me want to scream or evaporate, I'd really, really appreciate it."
Mr. Dawson set his pen down. Took off his glasses.
Oh no. He was going into wise teacher mode.
"First of all, Miss Frost," he said, folding his hands and leaning back, "this office has a door for a reason. That reason includes knocking."
I bit my lip.
He continued, "Second, do you know why I made this project a pair assignment? Not because I hate you. Not even because I think you two will get along. But because group work teaches something far more difficult than writing: patience. Collaboration. Conflict resolution."
I looked at the floor.
"And yes, I know Alex Worthington is... not everyone's cup of tea. But he's also one of the brightest students I've taught, and quite frankly, so are you. You both need this. Not just for your transcripts—but to grow. You're stuck with each other, Avaline."
I groaned quietly. "But sir..."
"My hands are tied. You're both late to even start, and I'm not reading two different reports. I'm not giving double the grades. No one's rewriting this plan."
I blinked up at him. "But... this isn't even that serious, right? Like... it's not part of the college application, is it?"
Mr. Dawson laughed. "Avaline. Of course it is. I factor in your work here into the final letters I write. How you handle the process says just as much as your finished work. You want that recommendation from me?"
I nodded slowly.
"Then be perfect," he said. "Even if it kills you."
I swallowed. My lips were suddenly dry. "Yes, sir."
"Now," he said, putting his glasses back on and picking up his pen again, "would you please excuse me so I can pretend I get paid enough for this?"
I turned to go, shoulders heavy, heart heavier.
"And Avaline?"
I paused, still holding the door handle.
"In two weeks," he said with a small, mischievous smile. "Or kiss your recommendation goodbye."
I shut the door softly behind me and sighed, dragging my feet down the hallway.
Still stuck with Worthington.
Great.
Just—great.
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The sun was just harsh really harsh.
I sat cross-legged on the edge of the concrete planter just outside the school building still sad, unwrapping my burger like it was a birthday gift I actually wanted. Bella plopped beside me, stealing one of my fries before I could say anything, and Josh, as usual, was making a spectacle of himself—this time by nearly choking on a sip of soda.
"I swear," he said, coughing into his elbow. "This vending machine water is either expired or someone used it to rinse their socks."
Bella snorted. "That's what you get for trusting a vending machine with a label that just says H₂Oh? What even is that?"
"You're not funny," Josh grumbled, but even he couldn't keep a straight face. "No, but really. I almost died just now. I saw my life flash before my eyes. And guess what it showed? That time I wore white jeans to school and bled through during gym."
I burst out laughing, nearly dropping my burger. "Oh my gosh—why would you bring that up?"
Bella was wheezing. "NO. Please. That was the day you walked like a penguin all afternoon!"
"I was trying to save my dignity," Josh said, dramatically clutching his chest. "It's been gone ever since."
I was still giggling when my eyes happened to shift—casually, of course—and then I saw him.
Alexander Worthington. Walking past with his little group of too-cool-for-anything science kids, laughing at some joke I knew was probably just another insult disguised as cleverness. His sleeves were rolled up, his tie loose, and his laugh sharp like he was living in a Netflix teen drama. He didn't even glance in our direction, just kept walking like the earth curved around him.
My smile faded slightly.
Bella noticed. "You still haven't told Josh what happened, have you?"
Josh looked between us. "What happened? Don't tell me you guys fought again."
I sighed. "We didn't even get to the working part."
Bella raised an eyebrow. "Oh, please tell him."
I licked ketchup off my thumb and straightened up. "So yesterday after class, I went to meet him at the garden—you know, after the note I told you guys he left on my desk."
Josh blinked "I remember you told me that"
I nodded. "Very mysterious. Said to meet him after class."
"Yes," Bella teased with a smirk.
I shot her a look. "I got there. Said hi. He looked at me like I was a cockroach on his wall. He basically made it clear that he regretted being paired with me, called me dumb without actually saying the word, and I walked away before I threw my shoe at his face."
Josh winced. "Ouch."
"Yeah. He was rude, Josh," I said, trying to keep my voice down. "Like... really rude. Cold. Condescending. That kind of rude where it's almost impressive. I told him I couldn't work with someone who makes me sick and walked away."
Bella grinned proudly. "That's my girl."
Josh raised an eyebrow. "And what did Mr. Dawson say when you went to complain?"
I groaned and took a huge bite of my burger. "He told me to learn patience and that he wasn't changing the groups. Said we're both 'difficult' and that this will be a good test of tolerance. I think I gave a whole speech about how college matters more to me than to Alex because he's rich and probably doesn't even need a recommendation. I kind of... may have ranted."
Bella gasped. "Nooo. What did he do?"
"He told me I had two weeks to get it together or kiss my recommendation goodbye."
Josh let out a low whistle. "Well, that escalated."
I shrugged. "So yeah. Now I'm stuck with Alex Worthington. Captain of Condescension. And my brain cells are already packing their bags."
Bella threw her arm over my shoulder. "Maybe we should switch schools. Start over. Move to Canada."
Josh chuckled. "Okay, okay, look... I know he's... intense. But I've actually hung out with Alex a couple times."
I turned to him.
"Of course you have." I rolled my eyes.
"Yeah. Not close-close, but we've talked—his party, on the field. He's... not the devil, I swear. He just—talks like one."
Bella rolled her eyes. "Great. Satan with good diction."
Josh shrugged. "Honestly, if you get to know him, he might not be that bad. Just... really reserved. And sarcastic. But not evil."
I gave him a flat look. "He made me feel like my IQ dropped just by standing next to him."
Josh held up his hands. "I'm just saying, maybe he's not used to someone like you."
"Someone like me?" I tilted my head.
"You know... sweet. Quiet. Principled," Josh said, nudging me with a small smile. "He's probably used to people who kiss the ground he walks on. You didn't. Maybe that messed with his system."
Bella nodded slowly. "That's actually a fair point."
I rolled my eyes. "Well, he better get used to me. Because I'm not kissing anything."
Josh laughed. "Amen."
Bella looked at me and said with a smirk, "I still say you two have unfinished business."
I took another bite of my burger and mumbled, "The only business I want to finish is this sandwich."
They both cracked up again, and for a moment, even with the chaos that was Alex Worthington, I felt okay.
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By the time the afternoon rush thinned out, the buzz in the café settled into something softer—comfortable. The air smelled like vanilla syrup and toasted bread, and my apron felt a little too warm against my neck. I blew a strand of hair off my face, then stepped behind the counter to restock the napkin holders for the third time that day.
"Hey, Ava, you good?" Marcy called over her shoulder, her curly brown ponytail bouncing as she moved toward the espresso machine.
"Mhm," I said, balancing a stack of clean cups. "Just living the dream."
She snorted. "You say that every time you're tired but trying to act like you're not tired."
I gave a half-laugh and turned back to the counter. "I'm not that predictable."
"Girl, please. You're more predictable than my mom's Sunday rice and stew."
That made me giggle under my breath. I liked Marcy. She was loud, funny, and always seemed to have an endless reserve of energy that I could never match—but somehow, we balanced each other.
Just then, the bell over the door chimed.
I glanced up, expecting another regular, or maybe that couple who always shared one muffin and held hands like it was some kind of sport. But instead, my eyes landed on a guy with curly dark hair, casual black jeans, and the kind of grin that made people pause mid-step.
Something about him looked familiar.
He walked in slowly, glancing around like he wasn't sure what he was looking for. But when his eyes met mine, recognition flickered between us.
Noah?
He made his way to the counter, leaning in just slightly. "Hey," he said, smiling—easy, like we were old friends. "I was hoping I wasn't wrong."
I blinked. "Oh—hi! Wow, I didn't expect…"
His smile deepened. "You remember me?"
I laughed nervously, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "Yeah, of course. You're… Noah, right?"
"You got it." He looked me up and down—not in a weird way, more like he was actually trying to figure out how I looked so different from the party. "You seem different."
"Well, you caught me in my natural habitat," I said, gesturing to my apron. "I'm like, ninety percent caffeine and stress in here."
Noah chuckled. "It suits you, actually."
I felt my face go warm and busied myself with the touchscreen. "So… coffee?"
"And cookies, if you've got the good ones."
"Double chocolate chip?"
"Now you're speaking my language."
As I started to type in his order, he leaned a little closer. "You know," he said, voice lower, "I didn't get your number the other night."
I hesitated. "i know."
"well you didn't give me" he said with a wink that made my brain short-circuit for a half-second.
Before I could figure out what to say, Marcy called out from the back, "Avaline! Less giggling, more serving! You've got a customer waiting!"
I looked over to see a guy tapping his fingers on the counter, obviously ready to order. I turned back to Noah, flustered.
"I—I'll bring your order over," I mumbled.
"Looking forward to it." He gave me a playful salute and made his way to a small corner table by the window.
I took a breath, heart tapping way too fast for someone who literally just handed out cookies.
A few minutes later, I set Noah's coffee and cookie on a tray and walked it over to him. He looked up from his phone as I approached.
"Delivery," I said softly, placing the items down.
"Thanks," he said, then slid his phone across the table to me, the contacts screen open. "You know what to do."
I stared at it for a second, then—without fully thinking it through—typed in my number and handed it back. "There."
"You sure?" he teased.
"No," I said truthfully, laughing. "But here we are."
"Fair enough."
As I turned to leave, he said, "Wait," and reached into his pocket, pulling out a ten. "Tip."
I held up my hands. "No, you don't have to—"
"I know I don't have to." He placed it gently next to the coffee. "But I want to."
I hesitated, then gave him a quiet, "Thank you."
He winked again—this time slower—and took a bite of his cookie. "Best café in town."
I turned away before my face gave me away entirely.
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