I stand in the hallway for a moment, clutching my notebook and replaying the conversation I just had with Bryan. His words echo in my mind: "We'll split up the project—separately. No meeting up, no awkward study sessions." His dismissive attitude is still simmering in my chest, and I'm pretty sure my face is still flushed with a mix of irritation and disbelief.

"Fine," I think, clenching my jaw. "If he wants to act like that, then so be it." But the annoyance doesn't just dissipate. Instead, it follows me all the way to the cafeteria, where I'm meeting Isabella, Mia, and Leah for lunch.

The cafeteria is its usual chaotic self, filled with the buzz of students and the smell of questionable lasagna. When I finally spot Isabella at our usual table by the windows, Isabella is halfway through telling a story with her hands flying dramatically in the air.

"There she is!" Isabella calls, waving me over with a grin that's so bright it feels almost insulting to my current mood. "Amber, you look like you just fought a raccoon and lost. What happened?"

I plop down in the chair next to her, letting my head fall onto the table with a loud thud. "I wish it was just a raccoon," I mumble, my voice muffled.

Mia raises an eyebrow, leaning forward. "Rough morning? Did someone insult your pirouette form again?"

I lift my head and glare at her. "Worse. Much worse. Imagine getting paired for a year-long project in your most stressful class and then finding out your partner is Satan himself."

Leah's eyes widen, and Mia's fork clatters onto her tray. "Oh my god," Mia says, her eyes sparkling with the thrill of gossip. "Who's Satan? Is it Bryan? Please tell me it's Bryan."

I groan, running a hand through my hair. "Yes. Bryan." Mr. Baseball Arrogance. And he's already made it clear he has zero interest in working together like normal people."

Isabella's jaw drops, and she leans in with an expression of mock horror. "No way. He actually said that?"

I nod. "Pretty much. He suggested we 'split the project' like we're middle schoolers avoiding teamwork. I swear, he acted like being my partner was some kind of punishment from the universe."

Mia gasps dramatically, clutching her chest. "The drama! I can't believe you're stuck with the king of attitude himself. What are the odds?"

Leah giggles, trying to stifle her laughter. "Okay, but seriously, Amber, this sounds like the setup to a rom-com. Enemies to lovers? You're living it."

I narrowed my eyes at her. "If this is a rom-com, I want a refund. Bryan is more likely to throttle me with his baseball glove than sweep me off my feet."

Isabella can't help but laugh, covering her mouth. "Can you imagine him trying to be romantic? He'd probably just grunt and flex his biceps."

Mia fans herself with her hand. "Don't tempt me with that visual. I'm already picturing it."

I roll my eyes, but a reluctant smile tugs at my lips. "Stop. You're all supposed to be on my side."

Leah takes a sip of her iced coffee and says, "We are! We're just also on the side of entertainment, and this sounds like prime entertainment."

I sigh, shaking my head. "You guys are the worst. But seriously, what am I supposed to do? I can't handle a whole year of this. Plus, there's some huge trip to Costa Rica in December, and I have to somehow make it through that with him as my partner."

Mia's eyes light up. "Wait, you get to go to Costa Rica? With Bryan? Oh, this just got so much better. Picture it: romantic walks on the beach, accidental hand-holding, Bryan realizing you're the one he's always wanted—"

I throw a piece of my bread roll at her. "Stop romanticizing my misery! He's not going to realize anything except how much I annoy him."

Isabella catches the bread roll midair and pops it into her mouth. "Well, you never know. Stranger things have happened. Maybe he'll fall in love with your sassy comebacks."

I can't help but laugh, despite myself. "If that's the case, I'll expect an apology from the universe for all the chaos."

Leah grins. "Hey, at least it won't be boring. We're here for every dramatic, ridiculous moment of it."

After lunch, my friends' laughter and jokes about Bryan echo in my head, and even though the irritation hasn't fully left me, I feel a little lighter. Still, the rest of my day looms ahead, and I know I have to shake off the Bryan-induced frustration if I want to make it through.

I head to the dance studio, clutching my duffel bag and mentally preparing myself. Dance is my happy place, the one part of my day where I can let everything else melt away. The studio isn't fancy or modern, but there's something about the smell of rosin and the worn wooden floors that calms me. The mirrors reflect the light coming through the high windows, and I can see my own determined expression as I get ready to join the other dancers.

Changing quickly into my ballet gear—a black leotard, soft pink tights, and my worn ballet slippers—I head to the front of the studio, where Mrs. Lawson, the studio director, is already giving warm-up instructions. The familiar discipline of ballet helps ground me, and I focus on each stretch and movement, grateful for the distraction.

"Amber," Mrs. Lawson calls, snapping me back to attention. "Let's see that développé."

I take a deep breath, lifting my leg slowly and steadily, feeling the strength and control in my muscles. The room is quiet, except for the piano music, and I push aside all thoughts of Bryan, of Spanish class, of looming projects. For now, it's just me and the dance.

When class ends, I'm flushed and exhausted, but in a good way. My hair is escaping my bun, and I feel that familiar post-dance ache in my muscles. But I can't rest yet—I still have to teach the younger dancers. It's my second time teaching the class, and while I'm less nervous than the first time, there's still a flutter of anxiety in my chest.

I retie my bun and adjust my leotard before stepping into the next studio, where the group of kids aged nine to twelve are already waiting. The usual crew is there: Jessie, Oliver and Lily, the quiet one who still looks at me like I hold the secrets to the universe.

"Alright, everyone!" I clap my hands. The kids quiet down—well, mostly. Jessie is still whispering something to Oliver, who is pretending to moonwalk instead of standing still. "Let's start with our warm-up. You all know the drill!"

The class goes smoother than I expected, though it's still full of funny, unpredictable moments. Jessie continues narrating every plié with exaggerated drama, her voice carrying across the room. "And now," she announces, sweeping her arms like she's on Broadway, "I shall perform the most elegant plié known to humankind!" She bows, and the rest of the kids clap like she just won an award.

"Thank you, thank you!" Jessie says, pretending to toss roses into the crowd.

Meanwhile, Lily quietly practices her steps with a level of concentration that makes me want to cheer her on. Her movements are beautiful, but she still looks hesitant, like she's afraid of taking up space. I give her a reassuring smile, and she shyly smiles back.

By the end of class, I'm exhausted but happy. The kids gather their things, still buzzing with excitement about The Nutcracker, and Oliver shouts, "Miss Amber, I promise I'll only pretend to be an astronaut for one more week!"

I stifle a giggle. "I'll hold you to that, Oliver.

—----

I grab my things and rush across campus to the library, still in my ballet gear, because who has time to change when life is a chaotic whirlwind? The common room is bustling with students, and I spot Celeste waving at me from a corner table. Her curly blonde hair bounces as she calls out, "Amber! Over here!"

Taking a deep breath, I make my way over, feeling suddenly self-conscious about my outfit. My dance gear isn't exactly the best choice for a group meeting, and I can feel my cheeks heating up as I sit down. Celeste beams at me, completely unfazed, but Kyle barely looks up from his phone, and Blake glances at me with a raised eyebrow and an amused smile."Hey," I say softly, my voice almost getting lost in the noise of the room. "Sorry if I'm a bit... underdressed."

Wes offers a warm smile. "No worries. It's impressive that you're even managing to juggle everything."

Kyle snorts, still scrolling. "Yeah, I don't know how you're not asleep standing up."

I give a small, nervous laugh, quickly looking down and focusing on the copy of The Little Prince in front of me.

Just as we're deep in a debate about how to present The Little Prince without boring our entire class to sleep, Kyle's phone buzzes. He perks up like he's just won the lottery. "Hang on," he says, standing up with the kind of enthusiasm you only see when someone's escaping a group project meeting. "Be right back."

Celeste sighs dramatically, leaning back in her chair. "Think he's allergic to productivity?" she says, and Wes chuckles.

I manage a tired smile, rubbing my eyes. I'm exhausted from dance class and still in my ballet gear, feeling the soreness creeping into my muscles. "Well," I say, trying to keep up with their energy, "maybe we should all pretend we have urgent texts and see if that makes this meeting more interesting."

Wes grins. "You're onto something there."

A few minutes later, Kyle returns to the table—with Bryan trailing behind him. The moment I see Bryan, my exhaustion morphs into irritation. He's in a simple black t-shirt and jeans, but of course, he somehow makes even the most casual clothes look like a fashion statement. His dark, messy hair falls over his forehead in that infuriating way that makes him look both annoyingly confident and like he just rolled out of bed.

Bryan's eyes sweep over our table, and when they land on me, his lips curl into an amused grin.

"Wow," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "didn't realize we were having a performance during the literature meeting. You planning to do a pirouette to make your point, or...?"

I can feel my face getting hot and now I'm hyper-aware of how out of place I must look. I cross my arms, trying to keep my cool.

"Hilarious, Munzo," I shot back, my tone sharper than I intended. "I'm sorry I didn't have time to change between my real responsibilities."

Bryan raises an eyebrow, and his grin widens. "Easy there," he says, clearly amused. "I'm just saying, it's a bold fashion statement for a library."

I clench my teeth, trying to ignore how much his teasing gets to me. "At least I have a statement to make," I retort, hoping my voice doesn't give away how flustered I feel. "Unlike some people who think saying, 'We'll do the Spanish project separately' is a perfectly fine plan."

Bryan chuckles, and the sound makes my irritation spike. "Still mad about that, huh?" he says, leaning against the back of an empty chair. "I thought you'd be happy not to have to put up with me more than necessary."

My jaw tightens. Oh, he's definitely finding this funny. "Yeah, well," I say, trying to sound nonchalant, "some of us actually care about our grades and not about looks".

Wes chokes on a laugh, and Celeste raises her eyebrows, clearly entertained. Bryan, however, seems completely unfazed. He just gives me that infuriating smirk. "Touché," he says. "Guess I'll have to up my game, then."

He turns to Kyle, who's now snickering, and says, "Anyway, let's talk." But before they step away, Bryan gives me one last look, his eyes glinting with humor. "By the way, Amber," he adds, "don't worry. The whole ballerina-in-the-library look? It's really working for you."

My cheeks flame, and I know he's teasing, but I hate how his words make my stomach twist. I scowl, crossing my arms even tighter. "Get lost, Munzo," I mutter, but he just laughs, clearly enjoying every second of my discomfort.

As Bryan and Kyle walk off, I let out a long, exasperated sigh, and Wes gives me a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. "You handled that well," he says, but there's a hint of laughter in his voice.

I groan, dropping my head into my hands. "Why does he have to be so... so him?" I mumble, and Celeste bursts out laughing.

But even as I try to brush it off, my heart is still racing. I let out an exasperated breath, trying to shake off the tension still clinging to me. Why does he always have to get under my skin so easily? I think, slumping back in my chair. Celeste raises an eyebrow, and I try to focus back on the project, but Bryan's amused grin keeps replaying in my mind.

Ugh. This semester is going to be way too long.

—------

Thank you so much for reading Chapter Six! If you enjoyed the tension and drama (or just want more of Amber and Bryan's chaos), please give this chapter a vote and drop your thoughts in the comments! 💬 Don't forget to add the book to your library so you don't miss what happens next!

Thanks for your support, and see you in Chapter Seven! 💖