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Samara

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The mirror was a liar, and it wasn't even subtle about it.

I mean, sure, I looked good-great, even. But the whole "main character energy" thing? I wasn't feeling it yet. I studied my reflection, turning slightly to check my profile. The jean shorts were snug but flattering, and the cropped tank top showed off the tiniest sliver of midriff, just enough to suggest I was effortlessly stylish. The black leather jacket draped over my shoulders added an edge, saying, I could leave at any moment and hop on the back of a motorcycle. Don't test me.

It was Viv's idea, of course. The red boots sealed the deal. She'd insisted on them during our last shopping spree, holding them up to the fluorescent store lights and saying, "Samara, these boots scream fun. You don't know what fun is until you've worn boots like these."

I had argued that the boots were loud, impractical, and completely unnecessary. She'd argued that my closet was too boring and that I needed to stop dressing like a basketball player on a grocery run. Clearly, she'd won that battle.

I adjusted the boots now, my fingers lingering on the smooth leather as I sighed. "This is what it's come to," I muttered, staring into the mirror like it might offer a solution. "A college festival I don't even want to go to, in boots I didn't even want to buy."

But even as I said it, there was something about my reflection that made me pause. My workouts had been paying off lately, and my arms looked subtly toned, my shoulders strong. My legs, long from years of running drills and endless scrimmages, had a certain confidence to them. Maybe she was onto something.

The red boots might not have been my style, but they were a statement. And maybe tonight, I wanted to make one.

"You clean up nice, Samara," I said to my reflection, offering myself a smirk. Then, because I couldn't resist, I struck a quick pose before grabbing my phone off the dresser.

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...

I pushed open Viv's door without knocking, the way you only could with someone who was family. "Alright, diva, let's go. I've been ready for ages, and you're holding up the whole operation."

She was still at her vanity, meticulously applying her lip gloss like the entire festival hinged on the shine level of her lips. "Relax," she said, not even sparing me a glance. "I'm putting the finishing touches on a masterpiece."

I leaned against the doorframe, crossing my arms as I looked her over. She was wearing a light blue denim skirt with a tiny slit on one side, paired with a cropped white tee that had the faintest sparkle when it caught the light. A red leather jacket hung over the back of her chair, and, of course, she'd opted for black boots, identical to mine.

I raised an eyebrow. "Are we accidentally coordinated, or did you plan this?"

She finally turned to face me, her lips curling into a smirk as she took in my outfit. "It's not my fault you listen to me sometimes. We look amazing."

"We look like we're going to be mistaken for twins," I shot back.

"Please. If anyone asks, you're my understudy."

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't help smiling. That was Vivica for you-always quick with a comeback and never one to let a compliment slide without a little self-promotion.

She stood up, finally grabbing her jacket and slipping it on with an air of practiced ease. Then she looked me up and down, tilting her head. "You're welcome, by the way."

"For what?"

"For making you buy those boots," she said, gesturing dramatically toward my feet. "You look hot. No one's even going to notice me when we walk in together."

"Good," I said. "Then they won't notice me sneaking out halfway through."

Viv snorted, grabbing her small Crossbody bag and slinging it over her shoulder. "Not a chance, Mara. I'm dragging you to every food truck, every game booth, and every overpriced photo op tonight. You can thank me later."

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...

The festival was bigger than I expected, stretching across the quad and spilling onto the surrounding sidewalks like it couldn't be contained. String lights crisscrossed the open sky, their warm glow casting a golden hue over the booths, games, and endless streams of students milling about. The air smelled like a carnival-fried dough, melted cheese, and caramelized sugar all mingling together in an almost intoxicating way. Students and locals bustled around, laughing, shouting, and generally having the time of their lives.

To the left, a group crowded around a dunk tank, cheering as someone sent the unlucky volunteer into the water. To the right, a man in a bright blue blazer juggled flaming torches while a kid tugged on his mom's sleeve, pointing in awe.

Viv wasted no time dragging me to a food truck with a line that wrapped around the block. "They have the best churros," she explained, practically bouncing on her toes.

"How do you know that?" I asked.

"I did my research," she said, as if she'd been preparing for this night her whole life.

By the time we finally got our churros, my hands were already sticky from the warm caramel dipping sauce. Viv took one bite, closed her eyes dramatically, and sighed. "This is what happiness tastes like."

I laughed, shaking my head as we wandered toward the game booths. Viv was on a mission to win a stuffed animal, and she didn't care how much money she had to spend to do it.

At one booth, she tried her hand at the ring toss, missing every single one but laughing like she didn't care. I stepped up next, landing a ring on the second try. The booth attendant handed me a small stuffed panda, and I immediately passed it to Viv.

"For you," I said.

She grinned, tucking it under her arm. "You're lucky I love you."

Ahead, a stage blared music, the thumping bass of a local artist's song pulling us closer.

Viv and I danced in the crowd, jumping and screaming the lyrics even when we didn't know them. "What's his name again?" I shouted.

"No clue!" Viv yelled back, her voice barely cutting through the music.

My cheeks hurt from smiling, but I couldn't stop.

Eventually, Viv spotted her latest plaything, Marco I believe, shooting me a smug look. "Don't wait up, babe," she teased and turned to walk away. She turned abruptly making me giggle "And Mara, have fun!" she waved, winking as she disappeared into the crowd.

...
...

Now alone, I wandered through the festival, letting the noise and lights swirl around me. Days had passed since that Wednesday, and Damson was still avoiding me. At least, that's what it felt like. I'd see him-whether it was a fleeting glimpse at the indoor courts or a quick pass-by on campus-but he never met my gaze. It was like I existed on the edge of his peripheral vision, and he was determined to keep me there. If we somehow ended up in the same space, his eyes would skip over me like I was nothing more than background noise.

I wasn't that naïve. I could take a hint, no matter how much I didn't want to. I wasn't sure what had shifted between us, what invisible line I'd crossed to make him retreat so hard, but whatever it was, it left a strange feeling in my chest. The silence from him wasn't loud; it was deafening.

Akeem, on the other hand, was a completely different story. Over the last few days, we'd exchanged a casual, easy string of memes and laughing emojis. Nothing ground breaking-just silly things about animal memes or random TikToks that made us both chuckle. It was light and breezy, and, honestly, I liked it that way. The lack of pressure made it feel less like some high-stakes chess game and more like... friendship. He'd mentioned the festival one more time, of course. Something about how it was a "shame" I wouldn't be there, adding a dramatic sad-face emoji for effect. I'd stared at that text longer than I should have, rolling the idea around in my head. Ultimately, I'd decided against going.

Or so I thought.

When Viv came knocking yesterday, her persistence wore me down, as it always did. She swore up and down that it wouldn't be the same without me, that she needed my "cool factor" to balance out her chaotic energy. I'd tried to resist, citing my very valid plans of doing absolutely nothing, but, as usual, I caved. I always did with Viv. That girl could sell ice to a polar bear if she wanted.

So here I was, roaming the festival because my best friend had begged me into it. And if I were honest with myself... I didn't mind as much as I pretended to.

The crowd felt both suffocating and oddly distant as I weaved through the festival booths, the laughter and shouts around me fading into a low hum. I wasn't looking for him-I told myself that over and over.

But who was HE?

That's when I saw Damson.

He was standing near the edge of the quad, alone, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets. He was only a few feet away. The glow from the string lights softened his features, but his expression was unreadable, almost... distant.

I hesitated, the air around me suddenly feeling heavier. My first instinct was to go over, maybe make a joke or start a conversation. But my feet stayed planted. I smiled slightly and waved, hesitating before taking a step toward him. But before I could say anything, he turned and walked away-no, jogged.

I stopped in my tracks, stunned. Did that really just happen?

My stomach twisted as I tried to convince myself I'd imagined it. But I hadn't. His reaction was loud and clear, and it stung. I stood frozen in place, watching him retreat into the crowd, his broad shoulders disappearing behind the moving sea of people. A lump formed in my throat, heavy and unshakable.

What did I do?

The thought hit me like a stray basketball to the chest, sharp and unexpected. Damson had been distant at practice, brushing me off without explanation, and now this? It didn't make sense. One minute he was catching me on the court, his hands firm on my waist, his eyes soft and searching. The next, he was colder than the wind that cut through campus in the dead of winter.

I bit the inside of my cheek, refusing to let myself dwell. This wasn't the time, and it definitely wasn't the place. If he didn't want to talk to me, I wasn't going to waste my energy chasing him down.

I exhaled slowly, forcing my feet to move again. The festival was still in full swing around me, the lights twinkling overhead like stars, the smell of roasted marshmallows wafting through the air. I wandered past booths selling handmade jewellery, jars of honey, and vibrant paintings, letting the hum of activity pull me out of my head.

And then I saw him.

Akeem.

He was at one of the game booths, leaning casually against the counter as one of his friends tossed darts at the balloons and missed. His laughter was rich and warm, drawing me in like a magnet.

I stopped a few paces away, unable to look away. He wasn't doing anything extraordinary-just standing there, his posture relaxed, his smile easy-but something about the way he carried himself was captivating.

His friend missed the balloon again, and Akeem threw his head back, laughing so hard his shoulders shook. The sound was infectious, and I found myself smiling despite myself.

Before I could stop myself, I took a step closer. As if on cue, Akeem's eyes found mine.

The world didn't just slow-it stopped. The music from the speakers, the chatter from the crowd, even the breeze brushing against my skin-it all faded into the background. In that moment, it was just him. Him and I.

His smile softened when he saw me, the kind of smile that felt like it was meant just for me. He straightened, his friends forgotten as he stepped away from the booth and walked toward me.

"Princess," he said when he reached me, his voice low and almost reverent. His tone full of something I couldn't quite place. "You look like you stepped out of a dream."

I opened my mouth to respond, but the words stuck in my throat.

No one had ever looked at me like that before, like I was something rare, something worth stopping the world for. I swallowed hard, my pulse racing. His gaze never wavered, and the weight of it made my chest tighten in a way that wasn't at all unpleasant.

I smiled, feeling the butterflies in my stomach take flight.

For the first time in a long time, I felt seen. And it felt good.

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