It started with Jade.
Or maybe it started with Phoenix and that smile of his—the one that felt like stepping into sunlight. Or maybe it started the moment I let my guard down and let someone in.
Either way, something was shifting. Not just in the air. In me.
---
Sunday mornings at St. Agatha's were weirdly peaceful. Like the school itself was trying to convince us it wasn't a glorified prison wrapped in prayer and porcelain rosaries.
After chapel, I sat alone by the fountain in the courtyard. My sketchbook lay open on my lap, but my pencil had been hovering in the same spot for ten minutes. I couldn't focus.
Phoenix had started sitting closer during breakfast. Talking to me longer. Sending those texts with his random music recommendations and dumb jokes that somehow made me laugh in the middle of detention. And that smile—God, that smile—it was starting to become a problem.
Because now Jade was... different.
She used to roll her eyes at Phoenix's jokes. Used to nudge me when he said something dumb. Now? She didn't say anything. She just stared. And when she did talk, her words were laced with that syrupy kind of sweetness that only ever means one thing: trouble.
---
"Cute sketch," Jade said behind me.
I looked up to see her standing over me, arms folded, head tilted slightly to the side.
I forced a smile. "Didn't hear you come up."
"Didn't mean to sneak. Just figured I'd check if you and Phoenix were busy planning the next sparkle war without me."
There it was. The edge. Sharp and shiny.
I flipped my sketchbook closed. "We're just friends, Jade."
She sat next to me, too close. "Of course. Just friends. That's why you two text all night and giggle like middle schoolers over cereal."
"First of all," I said, raising a brow, "I don't giggle. I weaponize laughter."
That made her snort, but it didn't ease the tension in her shoulders.
She looked away. "Just... don't forget who helped you survive your first week here."
"I could never," I said softly. And I meant it.
But I also couldn't deny that the thought of Phoenix looking at someone else made my stomach twist. And that, my friends, was the beginning of the end.
---
Later that evening, I was heading to the art room to pick up supplies for Monday's mural project when I heard hushed voices behind one of the supply closets.
I paused.
"—I'm just saying, she's not like the others," Phoenix's voice.
"She's trouble," another voice snapped—Bianca.
I stepped back, heart pounding.
"She's real," Phoenix said, quieter now. "She doesn't care about popularity. She doesn't pretend."
There was silence.
Then Bianca, bitter as black coffee. "That's exactly why she doesn't belong here."
---
I should've walked away. I almost did.
Instead, I knocked on the door and pushed it open.
Phoenix jumped. Bianca turned with a venomous smile.
"Well, well," she cooed. "Speak of the devil."
"Aw, you flatter me," I deadpanned. "Talking about me behind my back already? We haven't even had our weekly showdown yet."
Phoenix looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole.
Bianca sauntered past me, her perfume choking the air. "Careful, Wren. Hearts break easier than rules."
And then she was gone.
I turned to Phoenix.
He didn't speak.
"You really think I don't belong?" I asked, voice low.
He sighed, brushing his fingers through his hair. "I said the opposite."
"But you're still talking to her."
"It's complicated."
I crossed my arms. "Then simplify it."
He stepped closer. "You're not just another student to me, Aria."
I didn't flinch, but I didn't move either.
"Then prove it."
Our eyes locked. Tension, heat, confusion—it all swirled like smoke between us.
Then he stepped back. "You deserve better than this place."
And just like that, he walked away.
---
I didn't cry.
I don't cry. Not over boys. Not even the ones who smile like the sun and say things that leave me wide awake at night.
But when I got back to my room, Jade was sitting on my bed, flipping through one of my sketchbooks.
She didn't look up.
"You like him."
I blinked. "Excuse me?"
"Phoenix. You like him."
I closed the door. "And if I did?"
Jade shrugged. "Then you're dumber than I thought."
Something inside me snapped. "What's your deal, Jade? Why are you acting like I betrayed you?"
She finally looked at me. Her eyes weren't angry—they were hurt. "Because I was here first."
I sat down, slowly. "So this is about him."
"No. It's about you," she whispered. "You come in here with your sarcasm and your secrets and suddenly he's looking at you like you hung the stars."
I stared at her, stunned.
"I liked him," she said quietly. "Maybe I still do."
"Jade…"
"It doesn't matter." She stood, brushing her hands on her jeans. "He's already chosen."
I didn't know what to say. I didn't know how to fix something I didn't even realize was broken.
She left without another word.
---
That night, I couldn't sleep.
I stared at the ceiling, wondering when everything got so messy. St. Agatha's was supposed to reform me, remember? Break me down and build me back up into a perfectly polished person.
Instead, it gave me feelings I didn't want, friendships I didn't know how to handle, and one very complicated boy who made me question everything.
I reached for my phone. A message from Phoenix blinked at the top of my screen.
> "Still awake?"
I hesitated.
Then typed back:
> "Always."
The typing bubbles appeared. Then disappeared.
Then:
> "Meet me on the roof?"
I didn't reply.
I just grabbed my hoodie and went.
---
The rooftop was cold, quiet, and perfect. Phoenix was already there, sitting on the ledge, legs dangling into the night.
"You came," he said without looking at me.
"You asked."
I sat beside him, wrapping my arms around my knees.
For a while, we said nothing.
Then he broke the silence. "I didn't mean to hurt you."
I stared straight ahead. "You didn't. You just confused the hell out of me."
"I confuse myself," he admitted. "But you... you make things feel less heavy."
I turned to him. "Then stop making it heavy."
His hand brushed mine. A silent question.
This time, I didn't pull away.
---
We stayed like that—just sitting, not speaking, not needing to—until the first light of dawn brushed the horizon.
Maybe things wouldn't get simpler.
Maybe they'd get worse.
But for now, sitting next to him with the wind in my hair and the whole world asleep below us...
It almost felt like freedom.