The meeting finally wraps up, and I let out a relieved sigh as I close my notebook. My brain feels fried from all the brainstorming, and the thought of a quiet evening sounds like heaven. Wes and Celeste are still talking about potential ideas for our The Little Prince project, their excitement palpable, but I'm too tired to fully engage.

"Thanks, guys," I say, giving them a small, tired smile. "I'll catch up tomorrow."

Wes gives me a friendly nod. "Get some rest, Amber. You've earned it."

I manage a laugh, tucking a strand of my long, black hair behind my ear. "Will do." With that, I stuff my notebook into my bag and head out of the library, my body already aching from dance practice earlier.

Outside, the air is crisp, and the campus is lit by a soft glow from the streetlights. The paths are scattered with fallen autumn leaves, and there's a hint of chatter from nearby students making their way to the dorms or heading out for the evening. I spot Isabella waiting for me by one of the streetlights, her long blonde hair shining under the glow, and she waves enthusiastically when she sees me.

"There she is!" Isabella calls, a grin spreading across her face. She's wearing a navy blue hoodie and black leggings, looking effortlessly comfortable. "Survived the literary madness?"

I laugh, trudging over to her. "Barely. I think my brain is officially out of service."

Isabella links her arm with mine, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Well, lucky for you, I'm here to drag your exhausted self back to the dorm. Let's go."

We start walking, and the quiet hum of campus life surrounds us. Isabella talks animatedly about her day, her confidence and energy making me smile despite my exhaustion. Her voice is warm and familiar, and it helps me feel more grounded after such a long day.

As we walk past one of the campus cafes, we nearly bump into a small group of students hanging out near the entrance. One of them is Blake, Isabella's new crush. His blond hair is slightly tousled, and he's wearing a fitted navy blue jacket over a white t-shirt, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he laughs at something one of his friends said.

Isabella's grip on my arm tightens, and she glances at me, her usual confidence faltering just a bit. "Oh my god, it's him," she whispers, her cheeks turning pink.

Blake turns his head, and his laughter dies down when he notices Isabella. His blue eyes brighten with recognition, and he raises a hand in a casual wave. "Hey, Isabella!" he calls out, his smile easy and friendly.

Isabella takes a deep breath, trying to compose herself. "H-hey, Blake!" She sounds more confident than she feels, but I can sense her nerves.

Blake's gaze briefly shifts to me, but there's no flicker of recognition. "And... hi," he says awkwardly, clearly not knowing who I am.

I give him a small, polite wave. "Hi," I say, feeling a little out of place.

Blake's smile returns, directed at Isabella. "You guys heading back to the dorms?"

"Yeah," Isabella replies, her voice a bit steadier now. "Long day, you know."

Blake chuckles, and it's a warm, genuine sound. "I hear you. Well, have a good night!" He gives her another smile before turning back to his friends, and Isabella exhales the moment he's out of earshot.

She spins to me, her eyes wide. "Amber, did you see that?" He actually waved at me! And spoke to me! I didn't make a total fool of myself, did I?"

I laugh, shaking my head. "You were perfect. Maybe a little pink, but perfect."

Isabella groans, covering her face with her hands. "Ugh, why does he have to be so cute and make me so flustered? It's unfair."

I nudge her playfully. "Hey, at least he remembers your name. That's a win."

We continue down the dimly lit pat, Isabella is practically glowing with happiness, her steps light and bouncy as she keeps replaying the encounter with Blake.

"Okay," she says, her voice bursting with energy, "but seriously, did you see how he looked at me? I mean, that smile. It could melt glaciers."

I roll my eyes playfully. "Pretty sure your swooning is going to melt the sidewalk at this rate."

Isabella gasps in mock offense. "Amber Lee, are you implying that I'm being dramatic?"

"Never," I say, deadpan, but I can't help the grin that sneaks onto my face. "Only slightly, maybe."

She shoves me gently, and we both laugh, our giggles echoing into the quiet evening. We're almost to the dorms now, the familiar brick buildings looming up ahead, when Isabella's phone buzzes. She pulls it out and checks the screen, her smile fading a bit.

"What's up?" I ask, noticing the sudden change in her demeanor.

Isabella bites her lip, her blue eyes narrowing at the message. "Ugh, it's just my mom. Another 'friendly reminder' that I need to ace all my classes this semester or else. You know how it is."

I nod, feeling a pang of sympathy. Isabella's parents put a lot of pressure on her, and even though she's confident most of the time, I know it wears her down. "That sucks," I say, offering a gentle nudge. "You're already doing amazing, Isa. Don't let her stress you out more than she already does."

She sighs, slipping her phone back into her pocket. "Thanks. Sometimes I just... wish I didn't have to be perfect all the time, you know?"

I squeeze her arm. "You don't have to be perfect with me," I say softly.

Isabella gives me a grateful smile. "What would I do without you, Amber?"

"Probably combust from all the stress," I tease, and she laughs, the tension easing from her shoulders.

—----------

Amber and Isabella walk side by side, making their way across campus to the art building. The morning air is carrying the scent of the faint aroma of coffee drifting from the campus café. The sky is painted with soft shades of blue and gold, and I find myself grateful for the little moments like this—a calm, shared walk with my best friend before the day truly starts.

Our art class is the only one we have together this semester, and there's something comforting about knowing Isabella will be there. As we approach the art building, the towering glass windows reflect the sunlight, and the ivy climbing up the brick walls gives the whole place a classic, almost magical feel. Inside, the familiar smells of paint, clay, and freshly sharpened pencils greet us, and the walls are adorned with student projects: splashes of color, abstract shapes, and sculptures that make you stop and think.

Isabella is practically glowing, her excitement bubbling over as she talks about her ideas for our upcoming project. She's dressed in an oversized white button-up shirt that she's tied at the waist, paired with black leggings and white sneakers. Her long blonde hair is loosely braided over her shoulder, and she looks effortlessly put together, as always.

I, on the other hand, am wearing something I picked out this morning with extra care: a soft blush-pink sweater with delicate lace details on the cuffs, paired with a flowy floral skirt that brushes just above my knees. My black ballet flats complete the look, and my long black hair is styled into loose waves that frame my face. I feel cute, but also a little self-conscious about trying too hard.

"Okay, Amber, hear me out," she says, her blue eyes alight with enthusiasm. "What if we did something inspired by dreams? Like, a surreal mix of reality and fantasy, with hints of symbolism."

I nod, chewing on my bottom lip. Art class isn't like dance, where I can rely on years of muscle memory and discipline. Here, it feels more vulnerable—exposing my creativity for others to see and critique. "That sounds... really cool," I say, even though the idea of presenting my art in front of everyone makes me feel small.

Isabella senses my worry, of course, because she always does. She bumps my shoulder gently. "Hey, you're going to be amazing. Stop overthinking."

"Easier said than done," I mumble, but I can't help smiling a little. Isabella's confidence is infectious, and I try to let it bolster my own.

We find our now forever spot near the large, paint-smeared windows, where the morning light filters in and casts golden patterns on the wooden tables. Students are scattered around the room, setting up their supplies, some already sketching and others chatting. The whole place has this vibrant, creative energy that's hard to ignore.

Professor Davies, our art instructor, stands at the front of the room. She's a tall woman with short, colorful hair that looks like a piece of art itself—today, it's dyed in shades of teal and purple. She wears funky, mismatched earrings and always seems to radiate positivity. "Good morning, everyone!" she calls out, clapping her hands together. "Today, we'll be brainstorming and sketching concepts for your first major project. Remember, this is your time to think outside the box. Be bold, be weird, and most importantly, have fun!"

The room hums with anticipation, and I let out a slow breath, picking up my pencil. Isabella already has her sketchpad open, her hand flying across the page as she sketches out something that looks like a fantastical forest. Her eyes are focused, her face lit up with excitement.

I stare at my own blank page for a moment, willing myself to feel inspired. Art isn't structured like ballet; it doesn't follow a set rhythm or pattern, and that lack of order makes me uneasy. But then Isabella leans over, her voice low and encouraging. "We're totally going to rock this, Amber. Just wait and see."

Her words make me laugh softly, and I feel a little of the tension in my chest ease. "I hope you're right," I whisper back, and then I start to sketch, letting the pencil glide across the page in soft, tentative strokes.

As we work, the room is filled with the sound of pencils scratching on paper, the occasional burst of laughter from another table, and the quiet hum of conversation. The sun continues to stream through the windows, warming the space and filling it with a soft, golden glow. Even though my heart is still a little nervous thump in my chest, having Isabella next to me makes it all feel a little less daunting.

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Thank you so much for reading! 💖 I hope you enjoyed this chapter and the glimpse into Amber and Isabella's world. Your support means everything to me, and I'd love to hear your thoughts—whether it's about Amber's struggles, Isabella's energy, or just how you're feeling about the story so far. Don't forget to vote if you liked it and add the book to your library to stay updated!

See you in the next chapter, and thank you for being part of this journey! 💕