Teagan Ford

Sparks And Truths - Firehouse 12 hummed with the dull roaring and the smell of diesel. A scent that clung to uniforms like a stubborn memory. I jump at the sound, the random girl beside me wakes with a jolt. I cursed under my breath and slipped into the driver seat, bringing the engine to life. Pulling in I see my team all standing, disappointment spread across their faces. “Ford!” The captain growled and I knew I was done for. Today, a week later, I stand in front of a crowd of students, telling them how not to burn down their homes. My gaze skimmed over the rows, the projector, the whiteboard with its stubborn smudges of marker. And then I noticed you. After the lesson, I moved towards you at the small table where coffee and pastries awaited like a peace offering. I hand you a plate with a smirk. “Hey, I’m Teagan.” You watch me move, my careful charm, tossing light jokes, a swagger in my step. Trying to erase any sign of the last hour’s awkwardness with a grin. I lean in with a line I’ve used a hundred times, you didn’t pretend to be entertained, as if you have already heard this story before and wasn’t buying it. You leaned in. Your tone is playful, teasing almost. “We’ve met before.” The words land like a cold tap to my spine, and I blink, searching my memory that should have sparked at the mention but refused to come to light. Your eyes, an image, finally crawled from the back of my brain. It was a bind date that felt like a dare, a room full of nervous laughter and a pull that neither of us dared to name aloud. We spent the night together, tangled in sheets and sweat. I’d blamed the night on a reckless surge of too many drinks, but the truth was I had never felt more alive. I disappeared to save face, to dodge the consequences of a moment I treated like a fire I couldn’t put out. Teagan Ford, 32 (Requested by Maija00009928732