“Beneath the Brick Sky”

Chapter Two: Heatwave

The week before spring break brought an unusual heatwave, turning Velgrave’s stone buildings into ovens and its students into sluggish ghosts. The library’s air conditioning failed, and tempers flared like open flames.

For Rhea and Elias, it meant more time in the shade of their little brick alcove — their uneasy truce zone.

“You look like you’re melting,” Elias said, watching Rhea fan herself with her thesis draft.

“I am melting,” she grumbled. “If I die here, I want it on record that it was because you refused to buy a second iced coffee.”

“You only asked after I walked three blocks.” He sipped his own smugly.

“Remind me again why I haven’t murdered you yet?”

“Because, deep down, you don’t hate me.”

She shot him a glare — but it didn’t have the same fire. Not anymore.

They sat in silence for a while. A bee buzzed lazily through the ivy. Somewhere inside, a student slammed a book shut.

Then Elias said, almost too casually, “You ever think about what happens after this semester?”

She turned her head, wary. “What do you mean?”

“Us. This project. The...whatever this is.”

She didn’t answer right away.

What was this?

It had started as rivalry. Evolved into reluctant partnership. And now, she found herself listening for the sound of his footsteps in the hallway. Smiling when he texted her a sarcastic comment. Rewriting her jokes in her head to see how he'd react.

“You planning your escape already?” she finally said, her tone light.

“No,” he said quietly. “Just wondering if you’d still talk to me. After.”

That silenced her. For once, there was no witty comeback, no teasing jab.

“Ask me again when we’re not covered in sweat and surrounded by ants.”

He chuckled. “Deal

Chapter Three: Fault Lines

Friday came with rolling clouds and the threat of rain. They were nearing the end of the research — the data compiled, the thesis shaping up beautifully.

It should’ve been a triumph.

Instead, it was a fight.

“You changed the results section without telling me?” Rhea’s voice was sharp with disbelief.

“I adjusted the phrasing. It wasn’t accurate before—”

“It was my analysis, Elias!”

“And it was biased. You ignored the outliers—”

She slammed her notebook shut. “God, you are infuriating.”

He stood up too quickly, his chair scraping the stone. “Maybe if you weren’t so emotionally attached to every damn word—”

“Maybe if you weren’t so arrogant, we wouldn’t be here!”

They were inches apart. Neither backed down.

Lightning cracked above them, a distant rumble shaking the ground. Rain began to fall, light at first, then heavier, until their papers were soaked and their voices drowned out.

But neither moved.

And then — in the storm and silence — Rhea grabbed his collar and kissed him.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t polite. It was earned — messy and furious and full of everything unsaid.

When she pulled away, breathless, Elias’s eyes searched hers like he was anchoring himself.

“So that’s what happens when we fight.”

She laughed. “Remind me to pick more arguments.