The return to school was both a relief and a weight pressing on Selene's chest.
Winter break had felt like an endless stretch of empty time, but now, as she stepped through the
front doors of Crestwood High, she almost wished for another week of solitude. Almost.
The familiar chaos of the hallways, the hum of teenage voices, and the rhythmic slam of
lockers—she had grown used to filtering it all out. But today, it felt louder. More intrusive.
Or maybe it wasn't the school that had changed. Maybe it was her.
She spotted Lila before Lila spotted her.
She was standing near her locker, laughing with a group of friends—effortlessly at ease, as
always. The sight of her, the sound of her laughter, sent a ripple through Selene's chest.
She shouldn't feel this way.
The thought hit her hard, almost making her stop in her tracks.
But then Lila turned, her eyes finding Selene's instantly, and for a moment, there was no room
for anything else.
Lila's face broke into a wide grin.
"There you are," she said as Selene approached. "I was starting to think you got lost in your
own head again."
Selene rolled her eyes. "No faith in me whatsoever."
"None." Lila bumped her shoulder playfully. "Missed you."
It was a simple phrase. Casual. Effortless.
But it wasn't casual to Selene.
It settled in her ribs, twisting there, burning at the edges.
This is dangerous.
But she didn't say that. She just gave a small shrug. "Yeah, you too."
Lila's gaze lingered on her for a second longer than it should have, like she was trying to read
something in Selene's expression. Then, as if deciding not to push, she nodded toward the
hallway.
"Walk me to class?"
Selene hesitated, but only for a moment.
"Yeah," she said, her voice quieter than before. "Okay."
And just like that, she fell into step beside her, ignoring the storm brewing inside her chest. ---
Days passed, slipping back into routine, but everything felt off.
Selene still spent her lunches with Lila, still found herself in the music room after school, still let
herself be drawn into quiet conversations and stolen moments that felt too big for what they
were.
But the way she saw Lila was different now.
Or maybe she had always seen her this way, and she had just refused to admit it.
It was in the way her pulse quickened when their shoulders brushed.
It was in the way she caught herself watching Lila's hands as she sketched, long fingers gliding
over the page with effortless precision.
It was in the way her stomach twisted when Lila smiled at her, like she was the only one in the
room worth looking at.
And it was wrong.
Selene knew it was wrong.
She had spent her whole life knowing exactly what was expected of her.
She was supposed to grow up, get good grades, find a boy, fall in love—that was how the story
went.
But Lila didn't fit into that equation.
Lila didn't fit into the neat little boxes that Selene had been taught to keep herself in.
And yet, she wanted.
God, she wanted.
And wasn't that the worst part?
Not the fact that it was forbidden, or confusing, or wrong—but the fact that it felt so good.
Selene wasn't stupid.
She had spent years perfecting the art of detachment, of keeping people at arm's length, of
making sure no one got close enough to see the cracks.
But Lila was slipping through the gaps.
And Selene was letting her. ---
One afternoon, after school, Lila was sitting cross-legged on the floor of the music room,
sketchpad balanced on her knees.
Selene sat at the piano, hands hovering over the keys, but she wasn't playing.
She was too distracted.
Too aware of Lila's presence.
Too caught up in the fact that they were alone.
Lila glanced up. "You're weird today."
Selene stiffened. "I'm always weird."
"Yeah, but this is a different kind of weird." Lila tilted her head, studying her. "Something on your
mind?"
Everything.
Every single thing she couldn't say.
Selene forced a smirk. "You wouldn't understand. It's the tortured artist in me."
Lila snorted. "Oh, please. If anyone here is a tortured artist, it's me."
"Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night."
Lila rolled her eyes but didn't press. Instead, she went back to sketching, her pencil scratching
softly against the paper.
Selene exhaled, relieved.
But the relief was short-lived, because after a moment, Lila spoke again—softly, almost
hesitantly.
"Can I ask you something?"
Selene tensed. "That depends."
Lila hesitated.
Then—
"Have you ever been in love?"
The question hit like a punch to the ribs.
Selene's fingers twitched against the keys, a discordant note ringing through the quiet.
She swallowed hard. "No."
Lila looked up, curious. "Never?"
Selene shook her head. "I don't think I'm built for it."
Lila studied her for a long moment.
Then she smiled—small, knowing. "I think you are."
Selene's throat went dry.
She wanted to tell Lila that she was wrong.
That she had spent her entire life running from anything that resembled closeness.
That she didn't know how to love, didn't know how to let herself be wanted.
That even now, as she sat here, something inside her was screaming that this was dangerous,
that she needed to stop.
But she didn't say any of that.
Because deep down, she knew that Lila was right.
She was capable of love.
She just didn't know what to do with that knowledge.
Selene forced herself to look away, focusing on the piano keys beneath her fingers.
"Love is overrated," she muttered.
Lila hummed, unconvinced.
"Maybe," she said.
But there was something in her voice, something light and teasing, that sent shivers down
Selene's spine.
Like she knew something Selene didn't.
Or maybe—like she was waiting for her to figure it out.
And that terrified Selene more than anything.
Because she wasn't sure what scared her more—
The thought of never letting herself have this.
Or the thought of letting herself want it.