Hidden Flame

Chapter 5: The Art of Avoidance

The days melted into one another, a blur of lectures, lesson plans, and stolen glances. River had done everything within her power to maintain a safe distance between herself and August, yet the very act of avoiding her seemed to only magnify the pull between them. Each encounter, no matter how brief, left River grappling with emotions she was desperately trying to keep at bay.

In the classroom, River was the picture of professionalism, her interactions with August indistinguishable from those with her other students. But behind her composed exterior, River’s thoughts were consumed by the tension simmering beneath the surface. It was as though the very air between them crackled with electricity, a current they both felt but refused to acknowledge.

River had declined August’s requests for after-school tutoring, subtly pushing her toward other teachers, hoping the distance would allow the feelings to fade. Yet, every time River saw August’s name on her roster or caught a glimpse of her in the hallways, her heart tightened with an unspoken longing that was becoming impossible to ignore.

The first real snowfall of the year came one late afternoon, blanketing the campus in a soft, white silence. River decided to take a walk, hoping the crisp air would clear her mind. The snow crunched under her boots as she made her way across the grounds, her thoughts swirling like the flurries around her. She needed a way to regain control, to find the clarity that had eluded her for weeks.

Her wandering steps brought her to the art studio, a place she often visited when she needed to think. The studio was usually deserted this time of day, a perfect haven where she could be alone with her thoughts. But as she pushed open the door, the familiar scent of turpentine and linseed oil mingling with the cool air, she found August seated at one of the tables, a sketchpad open in front of her.

River froze, her heart skipping a beat. August was so engrossed in her work that she didn’t notice River at first, her hand moving fluidly across the page, her expression one of deep concentration. For a moment, River considered turning and leaving before August could see her. But something held her in place, a force stronger than her resolve to keep her distance.

The scrape of a chair against the floor made August look up, and their eyes met across the room. River saw the flicker of surprise in August’s gaze, followed by something softer, something that made River’s breath hitch.

“Professor Rivers,” August said softly, setting her pencil down. “I didn’t think anyone else would be here.”

“I could say the same,” River replied, trying to keep her voice even. She stepped further into the room, her eyes drawn to the sketchpad in front of August. “What are you working on?”

August hesitated, her gaze dropping to the drawing. “It’s just something I’ve been thinking about. I'm trying to get it out of my head and onto paper.”

River moved closer, her curiosity piqued. The sketch was abstract, a swirl of shadows and light, the lines chaotic yet purposeful, as if August were trying to capture something intangible, something that eluded clear definition.

“It’s… intense,” River said, searching for the right words. “There’s a lot of emotion in it.”

August nodded, her fingers lightly tracing the edge of the paper. “It’s how I’ve been feeling lately. Like everything is just… spinning out of control.”

River’s chest tightened at the raw honesty in August’s voice. She could see the turmoil in the drawing, the confusion and frustration that August was trying to make sense of. River wanted to reach out to offer comfort, but she knew how dangerous that could be.

“Art has a way of expressing what we can’t always put into words,” River said carefully, her eyes still on the sketch. “It’s powerful.”

August looked up at her, her gaze intense and searching. “But what if it’s not enough? What if it doesn’t make the feelings go away?”