It was late. Too late to be out. The library lights had gone out an hour ago, and most of the school was dark, except the sports field, buzzing under floodlights where some practice had just wrapped.
But she was still here.
Ava.
Sitting on the edge of the bleachers in that ridiculous oversized cardigan she always wore when she was tired. Hair half-tied, sleeves pulled over her palms, legs tucked up like she belonged to the night sky itself.
Alex stood at the base of the steps, watching her like a fool.
She hadn't noticed him yet. She was humming something, head tilted back, eyes on the stars.
He didn't want to scare her. He always worried he might.
So he cleared his throat softly and climbed up.
She turned, startled for a moment — then smiled.
That was it. He was gone.
"I thought you'd gone home," she said, scooting over to make space.
"I did. Came back." He sat beside her, staring straight ahead.
A beat passed.
"You came back… just to sit here?"
"With you," he muttered.
Ava didn't reply. Her shoulder brushed his, and it set something in him alight.
She smelled like vanilla and ink and something soft — something dangerous. He didn't know how to do this gently. Never had. But she deserved soft.
"Why do you do that?" he asked suddenly.
"Do what?"
"Look at me like I'm not… you know."
"A delinquent?" she teased.
He turned to her, eyes darker than the night behind her.
"No. Like I'm not ruined."
The smile dropped from her face.
She looked at him then — really looked. Like she wanted to understand every word hiding behind his sharp jaw and bruised knuckles and cocky grin.
"You're not ruined, Alex," she said softly.
"You don't know that."
"I do." Her voice was steady now, sure of itself. "You try so hard to scare people. But I see you."
He didn't know what to say to that. So he laughed, dry and quiet. "You're a terrible judge of character."
She bumped her knee against his. "Maybe."
A silence fell.
He couldn't take it anymore.
"I like you," he said, voice rough. "I've liked you since you threw that damn bandaid box at me."
She blinked.
"I know you know. But I needed to say it. Because I'm not good with this kind of thing, and I mess it up all the time, and I don't want to mess this up — you."
Ava opened her mouth, then closed it.
And for a second, Alex panicked. Maybe this was it. Maybe he'd just broken the only good thing in his life.
But then she whispered, "I like you too."
He almost didn't hear it.
But when he turned to her, she was already looking at him — cheeks flushed, hands trembling a little.
"I just…" she bit her lip. "Didn't know if you were serious. Or if I was just something temporary."
He leaned in, forehead brushing hers. "You think I get in fights over temporary things?"
She laughed — soft, like the way pages turn in a book she's loved a hundred times.
But then she blinked, and he saw it — the worry behind her eyes, the ache of every day she'd doubted if he meant it. If she meant enough.
So he reached for her.
Slow, hesitant — like she might vanish if he moved too fast.
His arms circled her shoulders, and she just… melted. No resistance. No questions. She folded into him like she'd been waiting her whole life to.
Her arms wrapped around his waist, hands fisting the back of his hoodie. She buried her face into his chest, and for a second, he forgot how to breathe.
It wasn't dramatic. Wasn't desperate.
Just real.
She fit there — like maybe the universe had designed her for that exact spot, heart to heart, two broken pieces making one whole.
"I thought you were going to kiss me," she mumbled into his shirt.
He smiled, cheek resting on her hair. "I will. Someday. When I deserve it."
"You're such a dramatic idiot."
"I'm your dramatic idiot."
She laughed again. And neither of them let go.