Falling into something real

Dating Ethan Blake was like discovering a new color.

Before him, my world had been defined by routine: school, homework, time with Mia, the occasional family dinner, weekends that blurred together. Now everything was sharper, brighter, more intense.

He showed up at my locker every morning with coffee—black for him, vanilla latte for me—and walked me to first period even though it was out of his way. He sat with me at lunch, his arm draped over the back of my chair like I belonged there. He’d text me during class, little things that made me bite my lip to keep from smiling: Mr. Henderson is wearing the same shirt as yesterday. Should we be concerned?

The more time I spent with him, the more I realized there were layers to Ethan that most people never saw. The quiet guy in the gray hoodie was just the surface. Underneath, he was funny in a dry, unexpected way. He was fiercely protective of the people he cared about. And he had this habit of remembering things I mentioned in passing—my favorite song, the name of my childhood dog, the way I took my coffee—and bringing them up later, like he’d filed them away for safekeeping.

“You’re different with her,” Mia said one afternoon, watching Ethan across the cafeteria where he was laughing with some guys from his class.

“Different how?”

“Softer. You smile more.” She nudged me with her elbow. “It’s nice.”

I looked over at him, and as if he felt my gaze, he glanced up and caught my eye. He smiled, and I felt it in my chest.

“He’s going to leave at the end of the semester,” I said, the words coming out quieter than I intended.

Mia’s expression softened. “I know. But that’s months away. Don’t ruin what you have now by worrying about later.”

She was right. So I pushed the thought aside and let myself fall.

Part of falling for Ethan meant getting to know his world—and his world included three guys who’d been his friends since middle school.

There was Jake, the tallest of the group, with a perpetual smirk and a reputation for being able to talk his way out of anything. He was the one who organized the weekend hangouts, the one who always knew where the party was. Underneath the laid‑back exterior, though, he was fiercely loyal. I’d seen him step between Ethan and a guy who’d made a snide comment about him transferring schools. Jake didn’t throw a punch, but he didn’t have to. The look he gave was enough.

Then there was Derek, who was the opposite of Jake in almost every way. Where Jake was smooth, Derek was awkward in an endearing way. He was the group’s comic relief, always ready with a joke, even when the timing was terrible. He had a crush on a girl in his art class that he’d been too nervous to talk to for three months, and the rest of the guys gave him endless grief about it.

And finally, Marcus.

Marcus was the quiet one, the one who sat back and observed before he spoke. He read a lot—more than me, I suspected—and he had a habit of pulling out obscure facts at random moments. He was the one who’d ask the questions no one else thought to ask, the one who’d notice when something was off.

They welcomed me into their group with a kind of casual acceptance that made me feel like I’d always been there.

“So, Ava,” Jake said one Friday night, sprawled across Derek’s parents’ couch while we waited for a movie to start. “What’s your deal? How’d Ethan manage to land someone like you?”

Ethan, sitting beside me with his arm around my shoulders, rolled his eyes. “Don’t be a jackass.”

“I’m being serious.” Jake sat up, his grin wide. “We’ve been trying to set him up for years, and he shot down everyone. Every. Single. One. Then he meets you, and suddenly he’s writing poetry in his notebook.”

Ethan’s ears turned red. “I don’t write poetry.”

“You wrote something. I saw you.”

I looked at Ethan, amused. “You write poetry?”

“He’s lying,” Ethan said quickly.

“He’s not,” Derek chimed in from the floor. “I saw it too. It had a lot of words about eyes.”

I pressed my hand to my mouth to stifle a laugh. Ethan groaned and pulled his hoodie over his head, and I leaned into him, still laughing.

“Leave him alone,” I said, even though I was enjoying this immensely. “He’s sensitive.”

“She gets it,” Marcus said from his spot by the window, a rare smile on his face.

When the movie started, I curled into Ethan’s side, and he pressed a kiss to the top of my head. I felt safe, surrounded by his friends’ easy laughter, by his warmth, by the quiet certainty that I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

But not everything about being with Ethan was easy.

There was Tori Ashford.

I first noticed her about two weeks into our relationship. She was in the senior class, the kind of girl who walked through the hallways like she owned them. Her hair was always perfectly blown out, her clothes expensive in a way that didn’t try to hide it. She moved with a pack of three other girls who dressed the same, laughed the same, looked at everyone else like they were beneath them.

She also, I quickly learned, had her sights set on Ethan.

It started with small things. She’d appear at his locker between classes, touching his arm, laughing too loudly at things he said. She’d slide into the seat beside him at the library, even when other seats were available. She called him “E” in a way that felt designed to exclude everyone else.

“She’s just friendly,” Ethan said when I finally worked up the nerve to mention it. We were sitting in his car after school, the windows fogged from the rain. “She’s been in a few of my classes over the years.”

“She’s not just friendly,” I said, trying to keep my voice neutral. “She touches you. A lot.”

He looked at me, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Do i smell jealous?”

“I’m not jealous. I’m just observant.”

He leaned over, his hand cupping my face with a sweet smirk. “You have nothing to be jealous about. I’m with you. Now and always.”

The kiss he gave me was long and slow, and by the end of it, I’d almost forgotten about Tori.

Almost.

Tori, it turned out, wasn’t content to just orbit Ethan. She wanted to make her presence known to me.

The first time she spoke to me directly was in the hallway after third period. I was at my locker, swapping books, when her voice cut through the noise.

“Ava, right?”

I turned. She was standing there with two of her friends flanking her, her arms crossed, her smile sharp.

“Yeah?”

“I’m Tori. I’ve seen you around.” She tilted her head, examining me like I was a piece of art she was trying to decide whether to like. “You’re dating Ethan.”

It wasn’t a question.

“I am.”

“Huh.” She exchanged a glance with one of her friends, a girl with a platinum bob and a smirk that mirrored Tori’s. “I didn’t think he’d go for someone… younger.”

The word hung in the air, loaded with implication. She was older, richer, more experienced. I was a junior, a nobody, a girl who bought her clothes at the mall.

“He seems to like it,” I said, my voice steady despite the heat creeping up my neck.

Tori’s smile tightened. “Well, enjoy it while it lasts. He’s leaving in a few months. And guys like Ethan? They don’t do long‑distance. They especially don’t do long‑distance with someone they’re not serious about anyways.”

She walked away before I could respond, her friends’ laughter trailing behind her like a scarf.

I stood at my locker, gripping my books so hard my knuckles went white. I told myself she was just trying to get under my skin. I told myself it didn’t matter what she thought.

But her words stuck.

I didn’t tell Ethan about the encounter. I didn’t want to seem weak, or insecure, or like I couldn’t handle a mean girl with too much money and not enough hobbies.

But Tori didn’t stop.

She started showing up at lunch, sliding into the seat beside Ethan with a breezy “Hope you don’t mind” that was directed at me, not him. She’d ask him about his college plans, about his grades, about things I couldn’t contribute to. She’d laugh at his jokes before I could, reach for his water bottle, brush her hair back in a way that drew attention to her neck.

And her friends—Brooke and Sloane —did their part too. They’d whisper when I walked past, their eyes flicking to me and away. They’d post photos on social media with captions that were just vague enough to be deniable but pointed enough to sting.

Some girls don’t know their place.

Cute while it lasts, right?

I tried to ignore it. I threw myself into my schoolwork, into time with Ethan, into the bubble of happiness I’d built for myself. But Tori was like a crack in the glass—small at first, but spreading.

“You’re quiet,” Mia said one afternoon as we walked to her car. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

“Ava.”

I stopped, the words spilling out before I could even stop them. “It’s Tori" with a deep sigh. "She’s everywhere. She’s at his locker, she’s at his lunch table, she’s in his DMs—I saw her comment on his post on i***a last night. And he doesn’t do anything about it and it bothers me.”

Mia’s expression hardened. “I noticed her. She’s been circling him for years. She’s always been like that—thinks she’s entitled to whatever she wants.”

“Well, what she wants is Ethan.”

“Ethan wants you.” Mia grabbed my shoulders, forcing me to look at her. “Listen to me. That girl has had a crush on him since freshman year. She’s thrown herself at him a dozen times, and he’s never been interested. Not once. You’re the first girl he’s actually dated. Do you know how huge that is?”

I shook my head, not trusting my voice.

“It means you’re special to him. It means she’s nothing. So stop letting her get in your head.”

I nodded slowly, and Mia pulled me into a hug.

“You’re Ava Monroe,” she said into my hair. “You’re smart, you’re beautiful, and you’re the reason my cousin thinks he’s a poet. Don’t let some rich bitch with a superiority complex take that away from you.”

I laughed despite myself. “He told you about the poetry?”

“He told Jake, Jake told Derek, Derek told me. It’s bad, Ava. Like, really bad.”

We were both laughing now, and for a moment, the weight lifted.

But Tori wasn’t done.

The first real confrontation happened in the girls’ bathroom during fifth period. I’d asked to be excused because I felt a headache coming on, and I was leaning against the sink, eyes closed, when the door swung open.

“Oh, perfect.”

I opened my eyes. Tori stood there, alone for once, her heels clicking on the tile as she walked toward me.

“I was hoping I’d run into you bitch,” she said, leaning against the counter beside me. “We need to talk.”

“Do we?”

She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “You know, I’ve been watching you. The way you hang off Ethan, the way you think you belong with him. It’s almost cute.”

I turned to face her fully, my hands flat on the counter. “What do you want, Tori?”

“I want you to understand something.” She stepped closer, and I caught the scent of expensive perfume, floral and sharp. “Ethan and I have history. We’ve known each other for years. Our families are friends. He’s going to Northwood, I’m going to Northwood. We’re in the same circles. You’re a junior he met two months ago.”

“Your point exactly?”

“My point is that, you’re temporary.” Her voice was low, with a dreadful smirk at the side of her lips, almost friendly, which made it worse. “He’s going to leave, and he’s going to realize that whatever he thought he had with you, doesn’t compare to the life he’s going to have. And I’ll be there. I’ve always been there.”

I felt something cold settle in my chest, but I refused to let her see it.

“If he wanted you,” I said, “he would have chosen you by now. But he didn’t. He chose me.”

Her smile flickered, just for a second, and I saw something ugly underneath. Then it was back, smooth and polished.

“We’ll see how long that lasts.” She pushed off the counter and walked to the door, pausing with her hand on the handle. “Oh, and Ava? If you tell Ethan about this conversation, I’ll deny it. And I have a lot more people who’ll back me up than you do.”

She left, and I stood there for a long time, staring at my reflection in the mirror. I looked the same, but I felt different—smaller, somehow, like she’d taken something from me.

I splashed water on my face, took a breath, and went back to class.

I didn’t tell Ethan. I told myself it was because I didn’t want to give Tori the satisfaction of knowing she’d gotten to me. But the truth was, I was afraid. Afraid that if I brought it up, I’d sound insecure. Afraid that Ethan might realize she had a point. Afraid that I was exactly what Tori said I was: temporary.

So I smiled through the rest of the semester. I laughed at Ethan’s jokes, leaned into his kisses, pretended I didn’t notice Tori’s presence like a shadow at the edges of our relationship.

But the cracks were spreading and spreading fast.