Fire Burning

Subtlety

The bell over the door jingled again.

I didn’t look up right away—until I felt the shift at the table.

Addie stiffened across from me. Ari’s hand paused on my thigh. Even Jeremy straightened slightly beside me, his joking demeanor gone in a blink.

That’s when I looked up.

Claire.

She walked in like she owned the place. Wind-kissed curls perfectly in place, sunglasses perched on top of her head like a crown. Two girls followed behind her, all designer jeans and lip gloss smiles that didn’t quite reach their eyes.

Her gaze swept the café—and stopped on our table.

Specifically, on Ari.

She didn’t come over, but she didn’t need to. The room felt different with her in it. Like someone had lit a match in a room full of gasoline.

“I swear, she has radar for whenever Ari’s doing well,” Addie muttered under her breath.

I said nothing.

Claire smirked, said something to one of the girls with her, and slid into a booth across the room. But not so far that she couldn’t see us. See me.

Ari didn’t look at her again. His hand stayed right where it was. Jeremy, on the other hand, leaned in a little closer, clearly picking up on the tension but adding his usual layer of charm like it was armor.

“So,” he said, raising his milkshake, “who wants to bet Claire’s already planning a fake emergency just to get him alone?”

Addie rolled her eyes. “She’ll have to pry him from Emery’s side first.”

I flushed but didn’t argue.

Maddie started telling a story about the last time Claire showed up uninvited somewhere—something about a bonfire, a bottle of vodka, and her pretending to faint to get attention. I tried to laugh, tried to keep my cool.

But I needed a second.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom,” I said, sliding out of the booth.

Ari looked at me. Just a flicker of concern in his eyes. I gave a small smile. “I’m good.”

The bathroom was near the back—small and clean, with a mirror that looked like it had been there since the 80s. I splashed a bit of cold water on my face and leaned forward, trying to slow my pulse. The quiet was a relief. The walls were pale yellow, and there was a little plant on the sink that looked very fake.

The door creaked open behind me.

I froze.

Then straightened.

Claire.

She shut the door behind her with an unnecessary click, arms crossed, mouth curled into that practiced, honey-sweet smile that always held a blade underneath.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt your moment,” she said casually, walking closer like she belonged there. “Just thought we should talk.”

I turned slowly, keeping my expression neutral. “About what?”

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “About boundaries. About knowing your place.”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

She stepped forward, her tone syrupy and dangerous. “Look, I get it. New girl, fresh tragedy, the whole mysterious damaged-goods thing. It’s cute. Really. But Ari isn’t someone you just latch onto because you’re bored or lonely.”