Fighting with Fire

“Oi you two, pipe down,” The librarian hissed, glaring at the pair of them, “This is a library. If you want to scream and screech at each other, get out.”

Flushed and enraged two heads swiveled around. 

The girl’s lips parted and the red in her face deepened, “I’m so sorry. We’ll be quiet.” She looked mortified as the librarian huffed.

“I would hope so,” The librarian folded her arms and gave a pointed look to the boy, “And you?”

He snickered, rolling his eyes at the girl across from him, “I apologize,” he smirked, “I’ll try to keep her from yelling.”

The girl blew out a breath of frustration. 

The librarian sighed, “Last warning,” She walked away, shaking her head.

The pair glared at each other. The girl, emerald eyes fuming and red curls framing her heart shaped face locked on the dark-haired boy with the cocky grin and stormy grey irises. Heat, red hot rage steamed from both of them, a bubble of passionate distaste.

“Stop it,” The girl looked away from him and back down to the textbook.

“You stop it,” He smarmed, “Can’t stop staring at me can ya?”

She glared, “Shut up.”

“You shut up.”

“I’m not the one being loud!”

“Whatever let’s just get this fucking report done,” He opened his textbook with a thud.

“That’s all I want,” She sighed.

“Sure, you don’t want more,” He cocked his eyebrows suggestively.

“The report,” She gritted her teeth and flicked her page sharply.

This group research report was going to be the death of her. Being paired up with Thomas Brane of all people was torture. He was rude, arrogant and thought far too much of himself being captain of the hockey team and a straight A student. And she, she was his rival. Independent, quiet and modest is how people described Jette Culler. With the exception of when she was full blow madwoman on the soccer pitch or constantly fighting him and his team for indoor practice slots in the gym. 

“What do we want our final point to be?” She rested her chin in her hands, “Continue talking about the effects of hypnotherapy for ADHD or talk about who else it might benefit?”

“Who else might it benefit?” He mimicked her, putting his chin in his hands.

“You could do with some focused attention therapy,” She remarked, rolling her eyes.

“Very funny Jet-plane,” He said in the same sarcastic tone.

“Don’t call me that,” She narrowed her eyes in annoyance, “I meant other conditions or people that experience difficulty concentrating autism, dyslexia, even anxiety.”

“Let’s finish this then.”

They both glared at each other. But they got to work at last, after all the arguing. The library emptied as the hour got later. The librarian was beginning to walk past and tap her wrist like a watch, reminding them they had 15 minutes to leave before the library shut.

“We’re not going to finish this in 15 minutes,” Jette said, beginning to fret, “The conclusion and the referencing and…”

He cut her off with a wave of his hand, “Chill out Jet-plane. The computer labs open 24/7. We can go finish it there before the deadline.”

She nodded, “Okay, fine.” They worked steadily for another 10 minutes, making the most of the libraries warmth and the table full of their sprawled out pages of notes.

She began to neatly pack up her collection of pastel highlighters and post it notes while he crammed loose papers into a backpack.

“So why don’t I do the conclusion, while you reference and then we can both proofread it,” Thomas pushed his chair under the table.

“Why don’t you do the referencing and I do the conclusion?” She grimaced at him, “I heard APA was your favorite.”

“I can write a solid, to the point, concise conclusion,” He shot back at her as they exited the library.

“So can I,” She sighed, “I’m the English major.”

“Which is why you should be so great at referencing,” He gave her a sickly smile, “You must be a pro after all those essays.

He hit the elevator button and stooked back smirking; his fingers looped in the belt at his waist.

“Which is why you need practice,” She turned around at fake grinned at him as she strode into the opening elevator.

He wasn’t one to back down. The bickering continued from the 2^nd floor all the way to 5^th, their tones dripping in sarcasm, words flying heatedly around the echoing metal of the elevator. The ding of the elevator door silenced them as they stepped out into the empty corridor. Campus was so deserted at night, equal parts peaceful and eerie. 

“Let’s check the staff room for leftover snacks,” Thomas began to stride down the hallway, leaving Jette in his wake, frustratedly trying to catch up to his stupid long legs and speed.

She was quiet as he rummaged around the staff kitchen for snacks. 

“Do you want a coffee?” He asked, gesturing to the canister of instant coffee, “Might help get this assignment done faster.”

“Sure,” She sighed, “Need something to keep me awake.”

Jette felt a wave of exhaustion and sat down to try stop feeling faint. The staff room was warm, a heat bubble formed by four glass walls and never-ending heaters. She let herself rest as Thomas made himself busy boiling the jug and pouring sugar into their coffees.

“Here,” He held out a blue mug to her, “Finish this and then it’s back to work.”

“So bossy,” She snickered. “But thank you,” She said, sincere for once this whole night. 

He nodded and sat down in the chair across from her, letting his head fall back against a cushion.

“Ah to be a professor,” He sighed contently, “Comfy couches and free coffee.”

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s how they advertise the job,” Jette laughed softly.

“How else are they going to sign up to teach 20 years old’s who don’t even listen,” Thomas murmured, pouring back a mouthful of coffee. “Coffee, couches, perving on young hot students,” He cocked an eyebrow anticipating her reaction.

“Ew,” Her face scrunched up, “You are-“

The lights went out. They were plunged into darkness.

“Ah fuck,” Thomas cursed, and she could hear the sound of coffee slapping against the mug and spilling, “Fuck.”

Jette grabbed her phone and flicked the torch function on, right onto the coffee puddle on Thomas leg and his wincing face.

She tapped through to her settings. The Wi-Fi. Service. Texts. Nothing.

“No service, no cell,” She clenched her teeth.

“Give it a minute,” For a guy with hot coffee down his pants and in a pitch-black room, he was relatively calm, “I’m sure the power will come back on in a couple of minutes.”

She nodded in the dark. “Yeah sure,” She didn’t sound like she believed him.

A few minutes crept by in the dark and silence. Well apart from Thomas complaining about his lost coffee.

“Well,” She sighed as he continued to complain, now about his ruined pants.

“Well Jet-plane,” She didn’t need the light to know that he was grinning at her squirming in distaste.

“We’re not going to get this assignment in,” She worried.

“We’re stuck in a blackout and your worried about the assignment being late,” Thomas laughed, “I don’t think they’ll dock us for this.”

“But what if-“

He cut her off, she could see him moving forward onto the edge of his chair, “Chill out Jette, it’ll be fine.”

Panic was rising in her chest. The darkness wasn’t helping. Trapped in a room with Thomas Brane of all things. Trouble was bound to happen. If they didn’t kill each other first that is.