Chapter 9: The Fire Between Us
The first day back at school after the mural unveiling felt... different.
Emma walked through the halls with her sketchpad tucked to her chest, a fresh wave of whispers trailing behind her. Not the bad kind — not anymore. No one was calling her "emo art girl" or rolling their eyes. Now it was, "That's her! The mural girl." Or, "Did you see the lighthouse part? She drew that."
It should've felt like a dream come true.
But something about the attention made her skin prickle.
Emma reached her locker and twisted the dial, trying to ignore the small circle of juniors staring at her. As she pulled her sketchpad out, a voice called from behind.
"Hey, superstar."
She smiled without turning. "You're late."
Jake leaned against the locker next to hers, effortlessly cool in his leather jacket and lopsided grin. "Fashionably."
Emma gave him a mock glare, then leaned in for a quick kiss. "You ready for the chaos?"
"Please. I'm used to people watching me." He winked. "Soccer captain perks."
"Except now they're watching us," Emma said softly.
Jake's smile faded slightly. "Is that bothering you?"
She hesitated. "No. Just… it's weird. Having people know us like this."
Jake slipped his hand into hers. "Then let them look. We've got nothing to hide."
As they walked toward homeroom, Emma glanced over her shoulder — and saw her.
A girl leaning against the wall, arms crossed, eyes fixed on Jake.
She had golden-brown skin, sleek braids tied back with a scarf, and a stare that could slice glass. Emma didn't recognize her, but her gut twisted.
Jake hadn't noticed. But the girl didn't look away.
Not even once.
---
That afternoon, Jake found Emma in the art room, surrounded by blank canvases and a half-eaten granola bar.
He tossed his backpack down and leaned over the table. "Hey. You okay? You were quiet at lunch."
Emma chewed the cap of her marker. "Just... overwhelmed."
"By what?"
She shrugged. "Everything."
Jake tilted his head. "Is this about that new girl? The one from English?"
Emma blinked. "You noticed her?"
Jake gave a humorless laugh. "I'd be blind not to. She was basically burning holes through my skull."
"Who is she?"
"Her name's Alina. She just transferred here from a school in L.A. Apparently, she's some kind of art prodigy. Mr. Henderson introduced her after class."
Emma stiffened. "Oh."
Jake paused. "She's not you, Em. No one is."
Emma gave him a small smile, but it didn't reach her eyes.
"She probably thinks I'm just your pretty sidekick. The girlfriend with a paintbrush."
Jake stepped closer, cupping her face gently. "You're the girl who made the whole school feel something real. That mural didn't change the school — you did."
His lips met hers — soft and warm and grounding. But even as he kissed her, Emma couldn't shake the strange heat curling in her stomach.
Alina was talented. Sharp. Confident. Everything Emma struggled to be.
And she was watching.
---
Later that week, Mr. Henderson announced that the school was entering a statewide competition: The Future Creators Showcase, where top art students would be invited to exhibit at a national gallery in New York City. Only three students would be selected to represent the school.
Jake nudged Emma as the announcement ended. "You've got this in the bag."
But Mr. Henderson called out, "Emma. Jake. Alina. I want the three of you to meet after school. You'll be collaborating on the submission."
Emma's stomach dropped.
Alina raised a perfectly arched brow. "Looks like we're a team now."
Jake glanced between them, completely unaware of the silent tension brewing like a storm.
Emma smiled tightly. "Lucky us"
The next afternoon, the art room was tense.
Emma sketched in silence while Alina hummed under her breath, dabbing brushstrokes onto her canvas like she owned the space. Jake sat between them, trying to bridge the awkward energy.
"So," he said. "What if we merge styles? Emma's realism, Alina's abstract movement, and I do the shading work?"
Emma nodded, but Alina rolled her eyes. "That sounds... safe. Isn't this about pushing limits?"
Emma bristled. "There's a difference between bold and reckless."
"Or between scared and inspired," Alina shot back, smiling.
Jake opened his mouth to defuse the moment, but Emma stood suddenly, her sketchpad clutched tightly. "I need air."
She walked out without another word.
Jake ran after her, catching up just outside the studio doors. "Em, wait!"
She turned, eyes burning. "Why did you agree to work with her?"
"I didn't know she'd act like that."
Emma looked away. "She's trying to get under my skin."
"She won't. You're better than that."
"Am I?" Emma snapped. "Because I feel like screaming every time she talks."
Jake stepped closer, voice low. "Do you really think I'd fall for someone else?"
Emma didn't answer.
"Look at me," he said.
She did.
"I'm not here for her. I'm here for you. I chose you, Em."
Her lip quivered. "Then help me prove I belong in that exhibit."
Jake smiled. "We'll do it together."
---
For the next two weeks, the three of them worked — clashing, compromising, creating. The tension didn't disappear, but the piece began to form: a massive canvas titled The Fire Between Us — raw, emotional, explosive. It was unlike anything Emma had ever made.
One night, as they painted past sunset, Emma accidentally brushed crimson across the wrong layer.
She gasped, reaching for a towel, but Alina stopped her.
"Wait."
Emma froze.
Alina stepped forward, studying the smear. Then she picked up her brush and added to it — letting the red run like veins through the center of the canvas.
"See?" she said. "Mistakes make it human."
Emma blinked. "That actually... works."
Alina looked at her. "You're better than I thought."
Emma stared back. "So are you."
It wasn't friendship. But it was a truce.
---
The day of the exhibit announcement, Emma paced outside the art room while Jake sat on the steps, legs bouncing.
"I'm going to throw up," she said.
Jake laughed. "Want me to hold your hair?"
The door opened, and Mr. Henderson stepped out, grinning.
"All three of you," he said. "You're in."
Emma gasped. Jake jumped up and hugged her tight, spinning her in the air. For a moment, the world blurred with joy.
Then she caught Alina watching.
This time, though, her expression wasn't cold.
It was... something else.
Respect. Maybe even admiration.
Emma smiled. Not at Jake. Not at anyone.
At herself.
---
Later that night, as she and Jake sat on her porch under a sky full of stars, he traced circles on her hand.
"You did it," he said.
We did," she corrected.
He looked at her, more serious now. "Emma... I know we're headed into crazy changes this year. College, distance, who knows what else. But I don't want to lose this."
"You won't," she whispered. "Not unless you let go."
He leaned in and kissed her — deep and slow, like it was the last page of a poem. And when they pulled apart, he whispered into her hair:
"Then I'll hold on forever."