Jane stood outside the campus library, checking her phone for the third time.
2:07 PM.
Sophia had said she'd pick her up at two.
Jane shifted her weight, adjusting the strap of her bag. Students streamed past, laughing, talking, living their regular lives.
She felt anything but regular.
A sleek black car pulled up to the curb—the same one from that first night.
The window rolled down.
Sophia sat behind the wheel, sunglasses perched on her nose, looking effortlessly elegant in a soft beige sweater and tailored pants.
"Sorry I'm late," she said. "Meeting ran over."
Jane walked to the passenger side, sliding in. "It's fine."
The interior smelled like leather and something faintly floral—Sophia's perfume, maybe.
"Ready?" Sophia asked, glancing over.
Jane nodded. "As I'll ever be."
Sophia's lips curved slightly. "It won't be that bad. I promise."
Jane wasn't sure if she meant the shopping or the dinner.
Maybe both.
The boutique was tucked into an upscale district Jane had only passed through, never lingered in.
Floor-to-ceiling windows. Minimalist displays. Soft lighting that made everything look like art.
Jane stood just inside the entrance, suddenly hyperaware of her worn sneakers and faded jeans.
Sophia moved through the space like she belonged there—because she did.
A sales assistant approached immediately, her smile practiced and warm. "Dr. Whitmore. Lovely to see you again."
"Hello, Nicole. This is Jane. We're looking for something elegant but understated. Dinner appropriate."
Nicole's eyes swept over Jane with professional assessment. "Of course. I have a few pieces that would be perfect. Follow me."
Jane fell into step behind them, hands tucked into her pockets.
The boutique felt like another world. Silk and cashmere. Soft textures and muted tones. Price tags that probably cost more than Jane's monthly rent.
Nicole gestured toward a rack. "These just came in. Classic cuts, very versatile."
Sophia stepped closer, fingers brushing fabrics thoughtfully.
She pulled out a deep emerald dress—sleeveless, modest neckline, hem just below the knee.
"Try this," she said, handing it to Jane.
Jane took it hesitantly. "It's... nice."
"It'll look better on than off the hanger. Trust me."
Sophia added a tailored black jumpsuit with subtle gold buttons, then a cream blouse with wide-leg grey trousers.
Jane's arms filled quickly.
"Fitting rooms are back there," Nicole said, gesturing to curtained doorways.
Jane glanced at Sophia.
"Go ahead," Sophia said gently. "I'll wait."
Jane nodded and disappeared behind a curtain.
In the mirror, the emerald dress fit like it was made for her—hugging her waist, falling gracefully over her hips.
The color warmed her skin, brightened her eyes.
She barely recognized the woman staring back.
"Jane?" Sophia's voice from outside. "Can I see?"
Jane hesitated. Then slowly pulled the curtain aside.
Sophia sat on a velvet bench, scrolling her phone.
She looked up.
And froze.
Her phone lowered slowly.
Jane stood there, self-conscious under the weight of that gaze.
"Is it okay?" Jane asked quietly.
Sophia didn't answer right away.
She just stared—lips parted, breath caught for a second.
Then, softly: "You look..."
Jane's heart thudded. "What?"
Sophia stood, setting her phone down. She walked closer, eyes never leaving Jane.
"Beautiful," she finished, voice low. "You look beautiful."
Jane's breath hitched.
Sophia stopped just in front of her, gaze traveling slowly over the dress, over Jane.
Not clinical. Not polite.
Hungry, almost.
"The color suits you," Sophia said quieter now. "It brings out your eyes."
Jane swallowed. "You think so?"
"I know so."
They stood too close, air thick between them.
Sophia reached out, fingers brushing the fabric at Jane's shoulder—adjusting it slightly, lingering a beat longer than necessary.
The touch was light.
It didn't feel light.
"Turn around," Sophia murmured.
Jane did, slowly, feeling Sophia's eyes trace her the whole way.
When she faced forward again, Sophia was smiling—small, genuine, something unnamed flickering in her expression.
"This one," Sophia said. "Definitely this one."
Jane looked down at herself. "You're sure?"
"Completely."
Jane turned back toward the fitting room, but Sophia's voice stopped her.
"Try the others too. Just to be certain."
Jane glanced back. "Why, if you already like this one?"
Sophia's smile deepened, just a fraction. "Because I want to see them on you."
The words landed soft but heavy.
Jane's pulse raced.
She nodded and slipped behind the curtain again.
The black jumpsuit was sharp, polished.
When Jane stepped out, Sophia was standing, arms loosely crossed.
Her eyes swept over Jane immediately.
"Striking," Sophia said, tilting her head. "Very put-together."
"But?" Jane asked, sensing it.
Sophia stepped closer. "But it's not you. It's beautiful, but the dress... that felt like you. This feels like armor."
Jane looked down. "I thought that was the point—for tonight."
"No." Sophia's voice was firm, gentle. "The point is you feeling like yourself. Confident. Not hidden."
Jane met her eyes. "And the dress did that?"
"Yes."
Silence stretched, charged.
Jane nodded. "Okay."
She turned to change, but Sophia spoke again.
"Jane?"
"Yeah?"
"You really do look beautiful. In all of it. But especially in green."
Jane's cheeks warmed. "Thank you."
She disappeared behind the curtain, heart pounding loud enough she was sure Sophia could hear.
Sophia sat back down, exhaling slowly.
Her hands were steady.
Her mind wasn't.
What was she doing?
This was supposed to be practical. Necessary.
But when Jane stepped out in that dress—
Sophia closed her eyes briefly.
The catch in her chest. The way her pulse had jumped. The sudden, sharp want to keep looking, keep standing close, keep finding excuses to touch.
This wasn't pretend anymore.
Maybe it never really had been.
The curtain rustled.
Sophia opened her eyes.
Jane stepped out in her jeans and sweater, emerald dress draped over her arm.
"This one," she said simply.
Sophia stood, composure snapping back into place. "Good choice."
They walked to the counter. Nicole rang it up, folding the dress carefully into tissue, placing it in an elegant bag.
Sophia handed over her card without hesitation.
Jane shifted. "Sophia, you don't have to—"
"I want to."
Their eyes met.
Jane nodded slowly. "Thank you."
"You're welcome."
Nicole handed the bag with a warm smile. "Enjoy your evening."
They stepped into the afternoon light, city buzzing around them.
Sophia glanced at Jane. "Hungry?"
"A little."
"There's a café nearby. Good coffee. Better pastries."
Jane smiled. "Okay."
They walked side by side, bag swinging gently between them.
Neither mentioned this wasn't necessary.
Neither wanted to leave.
The café was small, cozy, tucked in a quiet corner.
They sat by the window—cappuccinos, croissants between them.
Jane tore off a piece, glancing at Sophia. "You come here often?"
"Sometimes. When I need to think."
"About what?"
Sophia smiled faintly. "Everything."
Jane nodded, understanding more than she said.
They ate in comfortable silence.
Then Jane spoke, quieter. "Can I ask you something?"
"Of course."
"Why did you lie? To your dad. About having someone."
Sophia set her cup down slowly. "Because I was... tired. Tired of Marissa pushing. Of blind dates, being told I need to 'settle down' so she can feel like she's won. In that moment, lying felt easier than another fight."
Jane watched her carefully. "Do you regret it?"
Sophia met her eyes. "I don't know yet."
A pause.
Then Sophia turned it back. "Why did you agree? To help."
Jane looked away, fingers tracing her cup. "Because you looked like you were drowning. And I know what that's like—to feel trapped, like no one sees you."
"You do?"
Jane nodded. "My whole life has been surviving. Working. Studying. Making sure I don't disappear."
Sophia's chest tightened.
Without thinking, she reached across, covering Jane's hand.
"You don't disappear."
Jane's eyes lifted, surprised.
"You matter," Sophia repeated, firmer. "Don't ever think you don't."
Jane stared, something raw flickering across her face.
She nodded, voice thick. "Thank you."
Sophia squeezed once, then pulled back—suddenly aware of the touch.
They finished coffee in quiet, unsaid things settling between them.
When they stood to leave, Sophia walked Jane to the car.
"I'll pick you up Friday," she said. "Six-thirty. Gives us time."
Jane nodded. "Okay."
They stood there, neither moving.
Then Jane smiled—small, real. "Thanks for today. For all of it."
"You're welcome."
Jane turned to go, then paused. "Sophia?"
"Yeah?"
"For what it's worth... I don't think you made a mistake. Asking me."
Sophia's breath caught.
Before she could answer, Jane was walking away.
Sophia watched her go, heart doing something dangerous.
Something irreversible.
She got in her car, hands on the wheel.
And finally admitted what she'd been dodging all day.
This wasn't pretend.
Not even close.