Chapter 10: City of Hearts
Emma stared out the window as the train sped toward New York City, her fingers laced with Jake's across the seat.
Skyscrapers replaced forests. Taxi horns replaced cicadas. Everything felt loud and alive, like the city was breathing beneath their feet before they even arrived.
She glanced over at Jake. He had his headphones on, sketching in a worn notebook, his pencil moving fast. His fingers were stained with charcoal, and his brow furrowed in concentration.
Emma smiled.
They were hours away from stepping into the biggest opportunity of their lives: The Future Creators Showcase — a three-day exhibit in Manhattan where art students from across the country would present their best work. Winning meant not only scholarships, but press coverage, gallery contracts, maybe even a career.
It felt unreal.
But more than that, Emma couldn't stop thinking about how this trip would be their first real time away together. No parents. No curfews. No hiding kisses in quiet corners.
Just them. In the city of possibilities.
---
The hotel was nicer than Emma expected. Tall glass windows, velvet couches in the lobby, and a view from their room that stretched all the way to the Hudson River.
She stood at the window, staring out at the glittering skyline. "It's like we're inside a movie."
Jake came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Then I hope it's a romance."
Emma leaned back into his chest, her heartbeat steady and full.
"You know," she whispered, "this is the first time I've felt like… we made it."
Jake rested his chin on her shoulder. "You made it. I'm just here for the view."
Emma turned and looked up at him. "Shut up and kiss me, Carter."
He grinned and obeyed.
Their mouths met — warm and hungry, a kiss filled with the kind of tension that had been building for weeks. There was nothing holding them back now. No curfews. No fear of getting caught.
Jake pulled her gently toward the bed, his fingers tangling in her hair. "You sure?" he asked, voice low.
Emma nodded. "I've never been more sure of anything."
---
Later, they lay wrapped in the white hotel sheets, limbs tangled and breaths slow. Emma rested her head against Jake's chest, listening to his heartbeat.
"I used to be scared of this," she said quietly.
"Of what?"
"Letting someone in. Letting you in."
Jake kissed her forehead. "I get it."
"But now I'm scared of losing it."
He tipped her chin up, eyes serious. "You won't lose me, Em. We're building this together."
Emma nodded, letting his words settle into the soft places of her heart.
But part of her still ached with the knowledge that perfect moments never lasted forever.
---
The next day, the gallery buzzed with movement.
Artists from all over the country were setting up their work — oil paintings, sculptures, digital pieces. The smell of paint, coffee, and anticipation filled the air.
Emma helped Jake and Alina arrange their submission: The Fire Between Us. It stood tall on a black easel, vibrant and wild, glowing beneath the white spotlights. Their names were listed underneath, three lines in clean font:
Emma Sinclair. Jake Carter. Alina Reyes.
"It's perfect," Alina murmured.
Emma nodded, trying not to let nerves eat her alive.
An hour later, judges began making their rounds.
And the tension skyrocketed.
The lead judge was a woman in a red blazer with sharp eyes and a clipboard. She walked slowly, examining the art like she was reading a language only she understood.
When she reached The Fire Between Us, she stopped.
Emma's breath hitched.
The judge stepped closer, tilting her head. "Bold," she murmured. "Messy. But raw. Real."
Jake spoke first. "We wanted it to reflect emotional contrast. How love, anger, grief — they burn through us."
Alina added, "We all brought something personal into it. That's why it moves like it does."
The judge's gaze shifted to Emma. "And you?"
Emma swallowed. "It's not about perfection. It's about truth. That fire — it's what happens when you let someone in."
The judge stared at her for a long moment. Then she gave a small nod and moved on.
Jake grabbed Emma's hand. "You nailed it."
Emma exhaled, nerves unraveling. "Let's just hope she thinks so too."
---
By the time the exhibit ended, their feet were sore, their stomachs full of overpriced pizza, and their heads spinning with possibilities.
Jake and Emma snuck away from the group that night and found themselves on the Brooklyn Bridge, city lights flickering behind them, the wind cool and wild.
"I don't want to go back yet," Emma whispered.
Jake took her hand. "Then don't. Let's stay like this a little longer."
They walked to the center of the bridge, where the cables crisscrossed like a spiderweb above them, and leaned against the railing.
"You know what scares me?" Emma asked.
Jake raised an eyebrow. "I thought we covered that already."
"Not that." She turned to face him. "I'm scared that I'll get so caught up in chasing success... that I'll lose who I am."
Jake nodded slowly. "Then don't chase success. Chase what sets your soul on fire."
Emma smiled. "Like this?"
He kissed her — slow and deep and anchoring.
"Exactly like this," he whispered.
---
The next morning, they stood in the gallery again as the winners were announced.
Third place. A sculptor from Oregon.
Second place. A digital artist from Chicago.
"And first place... the team behind The Fire Between Us — Emma Sinclair, Jake Carter, and Alina Reyes."
Emma blinked, frozen.
Jake whooped, pulling her into a hug. Alina stood stunned, then smirked, shaking her head.
They walked to the stage together, hearts pounding, hands linked.
Flashbulbs popped. Applause filled the room.
And in that moment, Emma wasn't just the girl from art class.
She was a creator. A fighter. A girl in love.
---
That night, back in their hotel room, Emma sat by the window again, the city glowing beneath her feet.
Jake came up behind her, arms wrapping around her waist.
"So..." he murmured. "What's next?"
Emma turned, resting her hands on his chest.
"I don't know. But whatever it is — I want to face it with you."
Jake leaned in. "Always."
And when they kissed, it felt like more than a promise.
It felt like forever.