By the time Mayven texts I'm outside
I've changed my hairstyle three times.
Not because I'm nervous. Definitely not because I care.
Okay.... maybe a little.
It was a formal event.
I styled it in a way half up half down hairstyle, kinda like a medieval princess or something. My blue streak was the only part in a braid.
I wore the dress Mayven suggested me to buy. An electric blue dress that complimented my hair.
The dress fell in a quiet cascade of electric blue, a color so vivid it seemed to hum with energy even in stillness. Cut in a sleek, floor-length silhouette, it skimmed the body with deliberate precision, fitted at the waist before flowing smoothly downward. One shoulder was left bare, the neckline slanting asymmetrically, while the other was adorned with a soft fabric flower, subtle and sculptural, like a frozen burst of light.
From that same shoulder, a sheer panel of matching blue chiffon draped downward, trailing along the side like a ribbon of light caught in motion. It softened the sharp elegance of the gown, adding fluidity and movement that shimmered faintly as she walked. A narrow slit opened at the front, revealing just a hint of leg, measured and controlled, a quiet provocation rather than an open display.
The fabric absorbed and bent the light in different shades of blue, deepening in shadow and brightening with every step. It wasn't a dress meant to fade into the background; the electric blue ensured it lingered in memory, striking and self-assured, a statement of confidence wrapped in elegance.
The doorbell rings before I can spiral any further.
Mayven doesn't knock. She never has. She lets herself in like this house is still hers too, energy spilling in ahead of her.
She wore a deep red dress.
"There she is," she grins, looking me up and down. "Wow. You look… like yourself again."
I snort. "That's not ominous at all."
"No, I mean it," she says, softer now. "You don't look like you're bracing for impact."
I shrug, grabbing my bag. "I'm trying something new. Not overthinking."
She raises an eyebrow. "You? I'll believe it when I see it."
The drive to the school is strangely quiet at first. Not awkward, just reflective. The road is familiar enough that muscle memory takes over, turns made without thought. At a red light, a song from high school comes on the radio, something loud and angsty we used to scream-sing with the windows down.
Mayven laughs. "Oh my god. Remember when you almost got suspended for blasting this in the parking lot?"
"I maintain it was a public service," I say. "That song saved lives."
She glances at me. "You okay?"
I nod. And I mean it. "Yeah. I think so."
The school looks exactly the same.
Same brick walls. Same flagpole. Same sense of something unfinished hovering in the air.
We sit in the car for a moment longer than necessary.
Inside, the gym has been transformed: string lights, banners, folding tables dressed up enough to feel intentional but still unmistakably school-issued. The smell hits me first. Floor cleaner and nostalgia.
It almost looked like prom, but for rich kids.
People recognize me faster than I expect.
"Roxanne Ramirez?""You haven't changed at all.""I knew you'd end up successful."
Each comment lands differently. Some feel flattering. Some feel reductive. But none of them derail me.
Felix arrives while Mayven is mid-rant about the DJ's song choices.
I feel him before I see him.
He approaches carefully, like he doesn't want to interrupt, hands tucked into his trouser pockets. When he smiles, it's tentative but warm.
His tie matches with my dress.
"Hey," he says.
"Hey," I reply.
Mayven's eyes flick between us, sharp and curious. "Hi Felix."
He stiffens just slightly. "I—uh—hi."
She beams. "You look the same! Except your hair, the color looks darker."
Felix laughs, visibly relaxing. "Yea, I've been getting that a lot. How are you and Luke doing?"
I watch them for a moment, something unexpected settling in my chest. Ease. There's no tension, no posturing. Just… people.
Inside the gym, we move together in an unspoken formation. Mayven greeting everyone like she never left. Felix hanging back just enough to give me space but staying close.
"You doing okay?" he asks quietly.
"Yeah," I say. "Thanks for being here."
He nods. "I wanted to be."
That simple honesty makes something in me soften.
As the night goes on, I notice how Felix listens. How he remembers details. How he never once makes the conversation about himself. When someone brings up my business, he doesn't look impressed or intimidated, just proud, like it makes sense.
At one point, I excuse myself to get water. Mayven follows.
"You still like him," she says casually.
I choke on my drink. "You don't waste time."
She grins. "You don't deny it."
I think about it for a second. Really think.
"I like how I feel around him," I say finally. "I don't feel like I need to prove anything."
Mayven nods, satisfied. "Good. That's new for you."
Later, the DJ plays something slow and nostalgic. Couples drift toward the center of the gym. Felix hesitates beside me.
"Do you—" I stop myself. "No pressure."
He smiles. "We can just stand here."
I smile back.
We do. Close enough to feel each other's presence, not close enough to make it something it isn't yet.
I don't feel rushed. I don't feel confused.
I feel grounded.
Although I was a bit disappointed. I did want to dance.
I told myself it didn't mean anything. It wasn't about Felix specifically, it was about the music, the atmosphere, the way the night had softened everyone into something nostalgic and open. Dancing felt like a final punctuation mark to the evening. Something complete.
"Blaise" A voice comes from behind me.
I turned and it was Mason. Like Felix, his tie also matched my dress. Except it was the exact color, while Felix's tie was a bit lighter.
"Did you... uh..." He clears his throat, glancing briefly at the floor before meeting my eyes again. "Would you like to dance with me."
The question hung between us.
Felix shifted beside me. I felt it before I saw it, the subtle retreat, the instinctive step back. He smiled, gentle and understanding, and that somehow made it worse.
"I should go now." Felix smiled at me. "Have fun."
And he walks away.
Great.
I look at Mason.
He was still waiting.
No smirk. No arrogance. Just… patience.
I sighed.
"One wrong move, Rockwell, and I'm stepping on your feet."
He chuckled, and lent out his hand.
And I took it.
And together, we were out on the dance floor.