Elena could hear the music from the dance studio long before she reached it—deep bass thuds echoing down the corridor, vibrating through the soles of her sneakers. It was late, well past dinner, and most of the building was dark except for the bright gleam beneath the studio door.
She stepped inside.
The rest of the team was already there, scattered across the floor, breathing heavily and stretching between repetitions. Coach Mira stood at the front of the room with her arms crossed and a whistle around her neck. A former Broadway dancer with a sharp voice and even sharper eyes, Mira was known for pushing hard—but her dancers were better for it.
"You're late," Mira said the moment Elena crossed the threshold.
"Sorry, professor let us out late," Elena said breathlessly, slipping into her place.
Mira gave her a curt nod. "Then warm up fast. We start from the top in two."
Elena threw down her bag, took a quick sip from her water bottle, and launched into her stretches. Her limbs still ached from last night's debate prep, but she welcomed the pain. It grounded her. Reminded her she was still in control.
For the next hour, she lost herself in motion.
The music was brutal—fast, percussive, complex. The choreography demanded everything: strength, fluidity, precision. One wrong move and you could break formation. One second too slow and the entire team lost rhythm.
Elena didn't slip.
Her body remembered the way it used to when she was younger, when dance was the only thing that silenced the chaos in her head. Here, no one was grading her, judging her, debating her logic.
Here, she could just be.
When practice ended, Mira clapped her hands.
"That was the best run-through yet. But we've still got work. Nationals are in eight weeks. If I see anyone slacking, I will replace you. Got it?"
"Yes, Coach!"
Elena grabbed her things and headed toward the exit, sweaty and sore but satisfied. She was halfway across the quad when her phone buzzed.
Aiden [9:27 PM]:
You forgot to upload your section. Deadline is midnight.
She groaned.
Elena [9:28 PM]:
I'm literally walking across campus. I'll upload it when I get back. Chill.
Aiden [9:28 PM]:
I am chill. But our grade isn't.
She almost smiled.
Almost.
By the time she reached her dorm, Rose was already in bed, scrolling through something on her tablet with earbuds in. Her face lit up with the glow of the screen—and something else. A softness Elena had noticed creeping in over the past week.
"You were out late," Rose said, glancing up.
"Dance."
Rose nodded. "Jordan asked me to come watch practice tomorrow."
Elena raised an eyebrow as she dropped her bag. "Oh?"
"He says he wants 'moral support.'"
"Sure he does."
Rose grinned. "Shut up."
"You like him."
"I'm considering the possibility."
Elena smirked. "You're basically in love."
"I swear, I will throw something at you."
Elena chuckled, pulling off her hoodie and flipping open her laptop. She sat on the edge of the bed and began uploading her debate files. Aiden's message popped up again on her screen.
Aiden [9:40 PM]:
You always make me wait.
Elena [9:41 PM]:
You always deserve to wait.
Aiden [9:42 PM]:
Fair.
She hesitated for a moment, then typed:
Elena [9:43 PM]:
Tomorrow after class—library. 5PM. You coming?
Aiden [9:44 PM]:
Wouldn't miss it, sweetheart.
She rolled her eyes but felt her pulse quicken just a little.
---
The next day, she got to the library early. She hated being unprepared, and something about working with Aiden always kept her on edge. She needed the space—mentally and physically—before he swept in with that slow swagger and maddening confidence.
She was halfway through reorganizing their talking points when he slid into the seat across from her.
"You actually showed up on time," she said without looking up.
"Don't sound so surprised."
He had a smoothie in one hand and a legal pad in the other. His usual cocky grin was dialed down today. No teasing. No sarcasm.
Just… calm.
They worked in silence for a while, flipping between resources and finalizing bullet points for their upcoming mock trial in class. Aiden asked smart questions. She gave him clear answers.
And then, somewhere between citations and case law, their knees brushed beneath the table.
Neither of them moved.
Elena glanced up.
He was already looking at her.
Her breath hitched. It was so stupid, so small—but it was the first time she noticed the color of his eyes. Not just brown, but deep. Like something buried. Warm and dangerous all at once.
She looked away quickly, heart thudding too fast.
"So," he said, breaking the silence. "Why journalism?"
She didn't expect the question.
She shrugged. "I like stories."
"That's it?"
"I like truth," she added after a second. "I like seeing people as they are. And telling it honestly."
He leaned back in his chair. "You ever want to do fiction? Like books?"
"Maybe someday."
"I bet you'd write enemies-to-lovers really well."
She blinked. "Why would you say that?"
He grinned. "No reason."
She glared at him. "You are not my lover."
"Yet."
Elena pushed her laptop shut.
"We're done here."
Aiden laughed, standing as she did.
They walked toward the exit together. It had become routine by now—working late, walking out side by side, their conversations increasingly unpredictable.
Just before they reached the stairs, he stopped her.
"Hey."
She turned.
His voice dropped a little. "You ever think about me? Like… outside of this debate stuff?"
She froze.
Her mind scrambled for a response that didn't sound like a lie.
He took a step closer. Not touching. Just near enough that she could feel the heat radiating from him.
"I think about you," he said quietly.
She swallowed. "You don't even know me."
"I want to."
Their eyes met. And for a terrifying second, Elena wanted to let him. To drop her guard. To close the distance.
But instead, she stepped back.
"I'll see you in class."
She left quickly, the chill of the hallway a stark contrast to the warmth blooming in her chest.
Back in the dorm, Rose looked up from her bed as Elena burst in, clearly flustered.
"Everything okay?"
Elena said nothing.
"Did he kiss you?"
"No."
"Did you want him to?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
Rose smirked knowingly.
"Fine. But when it does happen, I want all the details."
Elena grabbed her pillow and screamed into it.
Across campus, Jordan was walking beside Aiden, both of them quiet for once.
"You told her you think about her?" Jordan asked, a little impressed.
"Yeah."
"What'd she say?"
"Nothing. Just walked off."
Jordan winced. "Brutal."
Aiden stared at the ground. "It wasn't a no."
---
Elena stared at the ceiling of her dorm room long after Rose fell asleep.
The note from Aiden was still tucked inside her backpack, safely hidden beneath a stack of debate materials she didn't have the energy to look at. She knew she should toss it, or ignore it, or pretend like it didn't mean anything.
But it did.
His words lingered in her mind like a whisper she couldn't shut out.
> "Anytime you want to get away, I'm around."
And for a moment—just a breath of one—she had wanted to believe it.
With a groan, Elena turned to her side and dragged her pillow over her head. But sleep didn't come easy that night.
---
The morning buzzed with routine. Students shuffled to early classes with coffees in hand and half-zipped hoodies. Campus felt sleepy but alive, autumn air crisp with the promise of a quiet Friday.
Elena made her way to the main lecture hall, binder hugged to her chest, hair twisted into a bun, dark circles under her eyes from a night of restless tossing.
She slid into her seat near the middle row just as Professor Keller walked in and launched straight into announcements for the upcoming policy debate preliminaries.
Aiden arrived three minutes late.
He didn't sneak in.
He never did.
He strolled through the door like he owned the building, basketball jacket slung over one shoulder, earbuds hanging around his neck, and the faintest grin tugging at his lips when his eyes landed on Elena.
He sat beside her without a word.
She refused to look at him.
He didn't need her to.
After a moment, he leaned slightly toward her desk and whispered, "You sleep okay?"
She turned her head, arching an unimpressed brow. "Didn't peg you for the type to ask."
He gave a casual shrug. "Didn't peg you for the type to toss and turn over a note."
"I didn't—"
"Sure."
She bit her lip, cheeks threatening to warm. "You're insufferable."
He grinned. "You're adorable when you're annoyed."
Professor Keller's voice cut through the tension: "Mr. Cole, Miss Moore—if you're finished flirting, I'd like to begin."
The class erupted in chuckles.
Elena flushed scarlet and snapped her gaze to the front.
Aiden only leaned back in his chair, arms folded behind his head.
Perfectly pleased.
---
Later that day, the dance studio was buzzing with tension. Mira stood with her arms crossed, watching the team rehearse the opening sequence for the upcoming Northeast Regional Competition. Elena's muscles screamed in protest, but she didn't stop.
She couldn't.
Not when everything in her life—her family's expectations, her scholarship, her pride—rested on being excellent.
When the music stopped, Mira's voice was sharp as a blade. "Again."
Elena exhaled slowly and reset her position.
The next hour passed in a blur of movement and sweat, until Mira finally clapped her hands and called a break.
Elena collapsed onto the floor, back slick with perspiration, eyes fluttering closed. Her head was pounding. Her stomach twisted from skipping lunch.
"Hey."
Tara, one of her teammates, nudged her with a water bottle. "You okay?"
"Just tired," Elena replied, trying to mask how shaky she felt.
"You've been off all day."
"I'm fine."
But even she didn't believe it.
---
That evening, Aiden stood on the outdoor court behind the gym, shooting hoops under the golden wash of sunset. Jordan was with him, rebounding and chucking commentary between plays.
"Still got that tension in your shoulders," Jordan noted, tossing the ball back.
"Yeah," Aiden muttered. "Not sleeping great."
Jordan raised an eyebrow. "This about the debate?"
"No."
"Elena?"
Aiden hesitated. Then nodded. "She gets under my skin. And I hate that I don't hate it anymore."
Jordan caught the ball, spinning it slowly between his palms. "You thinking about telling her?"
"No." Aiden sighed. "We're just starting to get along. Sort of. If I tell her now, it'll ruin everything."
"Or it could fix everything."
Aiden shot a perfect three-pointer, the ball whispering through the net.
"I don't know," he said. "She's not like anyone else I've known. I don't want to mess it up."
Jordan smiled faintly. "You already care. That's the problem."
---
Later that night, Elena sat at the campus café with Rose, their table cluttered with fries, open notebooks, and half-finished iced coffees.
"You've been zoned out all day," Rose said, popping a fry into her mouth. "And don't say it's just dance."
"It's just… a lot," Elena muttered.
"Aiden?"
Elena looked up sharply.
Rose held her gaze. "You don't talk about him anymore. That's how I know he's in your head."
"I don't like him," Elena said too quickly.
Rose smirked. "Didn't say you did."
Elena sighed and pushed her food away. "He's… confusing. One second he's teasing me, the next he's saying things that actually—feel real. And then I hate him again."
"That's how it starts," Rose said softly. "You fight so hard not to feel it, and then it hits you all at once."
Elena looked away.
"What about you?" she asked, shifting the subject. "You and Jordan seem close."
Rose smiled. "He's sweet. No games. Just honest. It's nice."
"You like him."
"I might."
Their eyes met. Then they both laughed—softly, shyly. Two girls tangled in emotions they weren't ready to name.
---
That weekend, during an open-campus event, Elena was leaving the library with an armful of books when her ankle twisted slightly on the uneven path near the quad.
She hissed in pain and dropped the stack.
Before she could crouch, a hand was already picking up the top book.
Aiden.
"Seriously?" he said, frowning. "What happened?"
"I'm fine."
"You're limping."
"It's just a twist."
He didn't wait.
Without asking, he slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her against him. "Come on. You're going to the health center."
She stiffened. "I can walk."
"Clearly."
She huffed. "You're not my—"
"I don't care. You need someone right now. Let me be that someone."
She went quiet.
Let him guide her.
Let herself lean into him just a little, just long enough to feel his strength.
It was only a few minutes.
But it changed something.
For both of them.
---
Back in her dorm that night, Elena touched her ankle where it had been wrapped by the nurse. Her fingers lingered longer than they needed to.
She could still feel where Aiden's arm had held her steady.
And that scared her more than anything.
---