"Really?" Jayna took the bottle with a grin, her voice turning syrup-sweet on purpose. "So you missed me."
Jayna was always like this—saying the most outrageous thing as if it were obvious, as if she could simply name what she wanted and the world would have to admit it.
Ginevra lifted an eyebrow. Maybe she'd grown used to Jayna's shamelessness. She didn't deny it, didn't argue—she only nodded toward the sheet music in Jayna's hands.
Jayna understood immediately.
She opened the score and held it out for Ginevra to see, explaining brightly, "I thought about it. I'm going to play this one. And I'm going to sing too—play and sing at the same time."
Ginevra lowered her gaze to the title. When she recognized it, a quiet smile tugged at the edge of her mouth. It suited Jayna—her sweet, distinctive voice, the way her tone always carried an effortless warmth. And… Ginevra liked the song.
Jayna leaned in, pleased, eyes narrowing with smug delight. "You smiled. You think it fits me too, don't you?"
She tilted her head, the corner of her mouth lifting, and lightly poked Ginevra's arm.
What Jayna didn't see was that Ginevra's expression—usually so controlled—was slowly turning faintly red, warmth blooming beneath pale skin like a secret.
Ginevra raised the cold drink to her lips, taking a sip as if ice could cool the disorder in her chest. Then she sat down in the row behind, posture neat, voice steady.
"I only have fifteen minutes. I don't know if I'll catch your rehearsal."
Before P.E. ended, the teacher still needed to take attendance and wrap up. Ginevra had calculated it down to the minute—two minutes to sprint from the auditorium to the gym.
Jayna checked her watch at once. On stage, Class Three was still rehearsing their drama, dragging through scenes that didn't look like they'd end anytime soon.
"I don't know if you can see it either," Jayna admitted, a little crestfallen. "At this pace… there are still two performances before me."
She didn't want to say it, but it was true—she only wanted to play for Ginevra. The rest of the audience could vanish and she wouldn't care.
Ginevra leaned one arm against the seatback and tilted her head, looking at Jayna's drooping expression.
"It's okay," she said quietly. "There's always next time."
Jayna's eyes shifted, and she forced a teasing tone to protect the disappointment.
"Maybe if you're watching me, I'll get nervous."
Ginevra didn't let her dodge. "Aren't you fearless?"
Jayna bumped Ginevra's arm, pouting. "That's not true."
Then, softer—truth slipping through the act:
"If it's just random people watching, I won't be nervous at all. But if it's you… it's different."
Ginevra's eyes flickered.
Something moved there—something tender and unsettled. But she didn't answer. She simply stayed, sitting beside Jayna in silence, watching other students rehearse as time leaked away.
Jayna slumped over her chair, bored, eyes half-lidded. She'd already memorized her piece until it lived in her bones; she could play it with her eyes closed. The only thing she couldn't control was luck.
Luck wasn't letting her rehearse in front of Ginevra.
"Wow… that really is him."
"He's so handsome—seriously."
Jayna frowned and glanced back.
A cluster of girls stood near the back of the auditorium, whispering excitedly. One of them clutched a carefully wrapped gift bag, practically vibrating as she waited for the boy onstage to finish.
Jayna squinted toward the stage.
A tall boy with a guitar was adjusting his tuning. From afar, he did look… decent.
"Not bad," Jayna said, taking another sip of strawberry sparkling water.
Ginevra lifted her eyes briefly, expression unreadable, then looked away again.
Jayna's brain sparked with mischief. She leaned closer and whispered, "Giny. Let me ask you—have you ever gotten a love letter?"
Ginevra shot her a look. "Boring."
Jayna's lips twitched. "So stingy. You never share." She gazed back at the stage, half-amused. "Those girls are probably all into him. Pretty people are always popular."
"I wouldn't know," Ginevra replied flatly.
Jayna arched her brows. As expected—Ginevra truly had no interest in romance and gossip.
Then the boy finished tuning.
He spoke briefly to the staff, handed the guitar off, picked up a bottle of water at the edge of the stage—
And walked down the steps.
Straight toward them.
Jayna's shoulders lifted instinctively. She patted Ginevra's arm, half-alarmed.
Does he… know us?
He stopped right in front of Jayna.
"Hey," he greeted her with an easy smile. "You're up next for rehearsal. Get ready."
Jayna blinked.
She glanced at Ginevra, then pointed at herself, baffled. "Me? You… know me?"
The boy's smile faltered for a split second, and then returned—still bright, still sunny, but with something wounded underneath.
"We've met," he said. "At the Top 100 ranking board. The day the results came out."
"The Top 100…" Jayna frowned, thinking hard.
What she remembered from that day wasn't him.
What she remembered was: she'd ranked eighty-ninth, and in her excitement she'd kissed Ginevra's cheek.
The boy nodded naturally, then lowered his voice, almost like he was sharing a secret.
"You even grabbed my hand."
As soon as he said it, Jayna felt something shift in the air.
The girl beside her—Ginevra—was suddenly looking at him.
Not openly hostile, not aggressive…
But sharp.
A gaze like a blade held perfectly still.
Jayna's scalp tingled.
"Oh—oh." Jayna hurriedly scratched her head, flustered. "That, um… that was just because I was too excited. Seriously. Don't misunderstand—I really didn't mean anything by it. I swear I didn't."
She was talking to him, but her eyes kept flicking toward Ginevra, as if silently begging: Please don't get the wrong idea.
Because the pressure around Ginevra felt… lower.
Heavier.
Or maybe Jayna was imagining it.
"I didn't mind," the boy said easily, still smiling. "Let me introduce myself properly. I'm Mason Hawthorne from Class Two." His smile brightened. "I remember you, Jayna."
He extended his hand, friendly, open—offering a handshake.
Jayna's laugh came out awkward. She didn't take it.
Instead, she grabbed her sheet music like a shield. "Oh—hi, hi. You remember me—yeah, it was probably because I was so dramatic, right?" She rambled, desperate to end this. "I'd never gotten a score like that before. Honestly it was all thanks to the genius sitting next to me. Since you're done rehearsing, we'll go—bye bye!"
Before Mason could react, Jayna hooked her fingers around Ginevra's sleeve and dragged her away.
"You're panicking," Ginevra said coolly, her eyes sweeping over Jayna's forehead where sweat was starting to form.
"I'm not." Jayna fanned herself wildly with the sheet music. "It's just… hot today. Don't you think? It's already autumn but it's still hot. Right? Super hot…"
Ginevra didn't respond. She only turned her head slightly and glanced back.
Mason was standing there watching them.
Their eyes met.
Mason offered Ginevra a bright, perfectly friendly smile.
Jayna didn't see it. Jayna's mind was busy choking on guilt. She felt like she'd done something wrong, though she couldn't explain why. She didn't want Ginevra to misunderstand—even if Ginevra acted like she didn't care.
"I only met that guy once," Jayna muttered, half to herself. "He's not that memorable."
"I didn't ask," Ginevra said.
Her tone was controlled, but there was something faintly strained under it—like she'd clamped her emotions down too hard.
Jayna's brows lifted.
Oh.
So she was bothered.
Jayna had learned by now: other people might not notice, but she could. She could always tell when something in Ginevra's mood had shifted.
She changed tactics immediately.
"I'll play for you," Jayna offered brightly, turning her face toward Ginevra, forcing lightness. "Okay?"
At that moment, the stage teacher at the front gestured toward Jayna—her cue.
Ginevra looked down at the time.
Three minutes until class ended.
"Okay," she said quietly.
Jayna's face lit up. She ran to the stage like a startled deer, light and quick, sheet music clutched to her chest.
The school's black piano had been rolled to the center. The music teacher tested a few notes, adjusted slightly, then gestured for Jayna to sit and feel the keys.
Jayna placed the score on the stand and glanced back.
Ginevra was there.
Watching.
Jayna inhaled, forcing courage into her lungs.
Then she began.
The melody rose into the auditorium—soft at first, then steadier. Her fingers moved with practiced memory, but her heart was too loud, beating against her ribs. She made small mistakes—inevitable, first rehearsal, nerves—but she finished the song.
By the time the last note faded, her palms were damp with sweat.
She climbed down, receiving encouragement from other students waiting their turn.
But the person she wanted to see—
was gone.
Jayna checked the time.
Of course. Ginevra had gone back to P.E.
Still, disappointment tugged at her.
"Excuse me?"
A clear, bright voice pulled her attention.
Jayna turned and saw a younger girl with short hair smiling up at her. "Are you Jaynara Stevens?"
"I am," Jayna answered. "What's up?"
The girl handed her a folded note. "I'm a freshman. A senior was watching you play just now, and she asked me to give you this after you finished."
Jayna took it, puzzled, and unfolded it.
The handwriting was neat and elegant.
Ginevra's handwriting.
Jayna's breath caught.
Don't be nervous. You're the best.
Only a few words.
Jayna read them again.
And again.
Something softened so completely inside her that she almost felt weak. She grabbed the freshman's hand in excitement, thanking her again and again, then carefully tucked the note into her pocket like it was something priceless.
And even after that, she kept pulling it out to look at it again—like proof that this was real.
Ginevra…
Ginevra always did this.
She always, without warning, made Jayna's heart turn painfully tender.
"Thank you," Jayna whispered, and didn't know who she was thanking anymore.
In the days that followed, rehearsals continued.
And as long as Jayna was there—rain or shine—near the end, she would always spot someone in the auditorium.
A figure in some quiet corner.
Ginevra.
Afternoon sunlight would pour in, bright and golden. While Jayna listened backstage as the instructor gave notes, Ginevra would sit off to the side with a book, reading calmly, as if everything noisy and vivid around her had been muted.
She was stunning—like a painting stepped out of its frame.
Even sitting in the shadows, she drew eyes.
"Look," one girl whispered to her friends. "That senior is here again today."
"Yeah," another girl said, staring openly. "I asked around. She's Ginevra Volkova—the top-ranked student in the entire sophomore year. I didn't expect her to be this pretty in real life. And she's so low-key."
"No way… seriously?!"
"I heard she comes here every day to wait for a senior to finish rehearsal," another girl said, voice full of envy. "Then they leave together."
"Yes, yes!" someone chimed in excitedly. "The senior she's waiting for is in Class One too. She's playing the piano version of 'Only You'—it's so good. And on the real day she'll sing while she plays. She slowed it down a bit compared to the original."
"That senior is really pretty too," the short-haired freshman added proudly. "I've given her notes before. Look—she's coming out. Over there!"
The girls turned as one, eyes sparkling, and saw Jayna—long hair naturally wavy—stepping down from the stage with her sheet music.
She waved toward the corner.
Toward Ginevra.
Then, without thinking, she sprang toward the edge of the stage, ready to hop down in two quick steps.
A gasp ran through the group.
Because Ginevra, who had been reading quietly, stood up so fast it looked almost like panic. She crossed the distance at once and reached up—stopping Jayna with a firm hand.
"Giny," Jayna protested, laughing, "it's not a big drop. It's fine."
Ginevra's eyes were cold. "Don't jump."
Jayna tilted her head, deliberately mischievous. "But the stairs are crowded. You want me to squeeze through all those people? The instructor is there too—I'll feel awkward."
Then, as if struck by inspiration, she bent slightly, leaning down toward Ginevra with playful eyes.
"Alright. Then carry me down."
She opened her arms and winked, as though offering herself like a dare.
Ginevra turned her head away. "No."
She started to leave.
Jayna's smile widened. She lifted one foot out into the air, body tilting forward.
"Giny," she warned sweetly, "then I'm jumping."
For one suspended heartbeat, she was already committed—the next second would be gravity.
And then—
A quiet, helpless sigh.
Ginevra dropped her book and spun back, moving fast.
Her arms wrapped around Jayna, tight and sure, catching her before she could fall face-first to the ground.
The entire cluster of freshmen girls went silent—
then erupted into whispers.
"Did you see that?!"
"I saw it! Oh my god… they're so close…"
"Why is my heart racing? The cute guy in the next class isn't even as good-looking as this."
Their eyes shone with a kind of tender fascination they didn't quite understand—watching as though they'd stumbled onto a secret scene from a romance.
Jayna straightened, safe, and Ginevra finally let her go.
Jayna smoothed her hair and turned to Ginevra with a bright, satisfied smile.
"You still caught me," she teased softly. "So stubborn. You say no, but your body says yes."
Ginevra gave her a hard look—pure condemnation, all aimed at Jayna's dangerous little stunt.
She bent to pick up her book, voice low and sharp with threat.
"If you do that again," she said, "I won't come with you anymore."