After lunch with Izzy, I feel a bit more centered, like I can actually face the rest of the day. I change into my ballet gear and my well-loved ballet shoes. My long black hair is pulled back into a neat bun, every strand secured in place with pins and hairspray. Ballet always makes me feel like I'm stepping into a different world, where the stress of Spanish class and Bryan can't reach me.

The dance studio is bustling when I arrive, filled with the familiar sounds of pointe shoes brushing against the floor and laughter from my fellow dancers. The walls are lined with mirrors, and the room smells faintly of rosin and sweat. I drop my bag by the barre and greet some of my friends, who've been in the same class as me since our freshman year. We share a few jokes, teasing each other about who's the least coordinated today, and the laughter lightens my mood even more.

The class begins, and as we work through the exercises, I lose myself in the familiar rhythm of the movements. My muscles stretch and strengthen with each plié, each tendu, and I feel the tension melting away. It's not perfect—I stumble slightly during one of the combinations and earn a playful "Smooth move, Amber!" from a friend—but I laugh it off, enjoying the camaraderie that comes with years of dancing together.

By the end of the class, I'm tired but happy, a sheen of sweat glistening on my skin. I grab a quick sip of water and get ready to teach my next class.

The kids are already buzzing with energy when I walk into the studio, their ballet slippers squeaking on the polished floor. I take a deep breath, stepping into teacher mode, and clap my hands. "Alright, everyone! Circle up, and let's get started!"

They scramble into place, giggling and wiggling, and I try to stifle a smile. It's only my third time teaching, but I'm already getting used to the chaotic energy of this group. We begin with our usual warm-up routine, and I weave around them, giving gentle reminders and encouraging smiles.

"Stretch a little higher, Mia," I say to one of the girls, who's trying her best to reach for the ceiling with her arms. She beams at me and gives an exaggerated stretch, nearly tipping over.

Halfway through class, I decide to change things up a bit. "Alright, who wants to play a game?" I announce. That grabs everyone's attention instantly, and the room erupts in cheers.

"It's called Ballet Freeze Tag," I explain, clapping my hands for emphasis. "When I call out 'Freeze,' you have to strike your best ballet pose and hold it. If you move, you're out until the next round."

The kids light up at the idea, and we start the game. The studio fills with laughter and dramatic poses. One kid tries to hold a perfect arabesque but wobbles, while another strikes a fierce pose with a silly face that makes everyone giggle.

At one point, I call out "Freeze!" and Oliver ends up mid-leap, arms and legs flailing in all directions. "I'm a graceful swan!" he declares dramatically, sending everyone into fits of laughter.

By the time we wrap up, everyone is breathless and happy, and I can't help but feel a sense of pride and joy at their enthusiasm. As they gather their things to leave, a girl named Ava approaches me shyly. She's one of the quieter ones, with big, curious eyes. "Miss Amber," she asks, fidgeting with the hem of her skirt, "how do you make it look so easy?"

I smile, bending down to her level. "Lots of practice," I say gently. "And having fun while you're learning helps a lot, too."

Ava nods, looking thoughtful, and then she gives me a small, genuine smile. "I'm going to practice a lot, then."

"Good," I reply, my heart warming at her determination.

As the last of the kids gather their belongings and head out, I take a moment to catch my breath, feeling the satisfying ache in my muscles from the class. The studio is finally quiet, the laughter and squeaking of ballet slippers still echoing in my mind. I'm tired, but there's a warmth in my chest, the kind of joy that only comes from sharing my love of dance with these kids.

Just as I'm about to grab my water bottle and start packing up, Lily's mom approaches me. She looks slightly frazzled, her hair pulled back in a loose bun and her eyes a bit clouded with worry. Lily stands beside her, clutching her dance bag and looking up at me with her big, hopeful eyes.

"Hi, Miss Amber," Lily's mom says, offering me a rushed but warm smile. "I hate to ask you this on such short notice, but I really need a favor. My shift at the hospital just got extended, and my usual babysitter canceled. Would you be able to watch Lily tonight? Just for a few hours? I promise it won't be too late."

I'm momentarily caught off guard, but as I glance at Lily, who's looking up at me with a mixture of shyness and excitement, I can't say no. Babysitting isn't something I do often, but I feel a sense of protectiveness toward Lily. She's always been so sweet and hardworking in class, and her mom looks genuinely stressed.

"Of course," I reply, giving her mom a reassuring smile. "I'd be happy to."

Relief washes over her face, and she lets out a grateful sigh. "Thank you so much, Amber. I wouldn't ask if it weren't an emergency. We live just a few blocks from here, so it shouldn't be a long trip. I can leave some snacks and everything you'll need, and I'll be home around ten."

"That sounds perfect," I say. We exchange addresses and a few more details, and I promise to be there by six. Lily's mom gives me one last grateful look before heading out, her shoulders visibly relaxing.

I turn to Lily, who's beaming at me now. "You're coming to my house?" she asks, her voice soft but full of excitement.

"Yep, I'll be there tonight," I say, kneeling down to her level. "We'll have fun, won't we?"

She nods enthusiastically, her dark hair bouncing. "Can we play games?" she asks, her eyes lighting up. "And maybe have a snack?"

I laugh. "Of course. It's going to be an adventure."

As I finally finish packing up my things and leave the studio, I feel a mix of anticipation and nervousness. Babysitting Lily at her house will definitely be a change of pace from my usual evenings, and I'm curious to see what the night will bring. Walking out into the cool evening air, I mentally run through the checklist of things I might need: patience, energy, and maybe a few tricks up my sleeve to keep Lily entertained.

—---

I trudge into my room, dropping my ballet bag onto the floor next to my bed. The sheets and soft gray duvet are practically calling my name, like some sort of siren song of sleep, but I can't give in. Not yet. I run a hand through my long black hair, which is still slightly frizzy from all the ballet drama, and try to shake off the exhaustion.

My stomach growls, reminding me that running on fumes (and stress) isn't exactly sustainable. So, I drag myself to our tiny kitchenette, which is decorated with Izzy's collection of random, mildly cursed magnets and the sad, ever-thriving succulent named Steve. I yank open the fridge, grab a Tupperware of pasta, and throw it into the microwave. As the pasta slowly rotates and heats up, I pull out my phone.

Of course, right on cue, a message from Celeste pops up.

Celeste: Hey Amber! Are you free tonight for a lit project meeting? We thought it might be good to get ahead. Let me know!

Guilt washes over me. Babysitting Lily tonight means I have to say no, and the thought of letting my group down weighs on me. I quickly type a response.

Amber: Ugh, I'm so sorry! I'd love to, but I'm babysitting tonight. Raincheck?

The microwave dings, and I grab my pasta just as my phone buzzes again.

Celeste: No worries! Good luck. Hope the kids don't turn into gremlins.

I laugh out loud, some of the guilt easing. Just as I sit down at our small dining table to eat, the front door opens, and in comes Izzy, looking effortlessly chic. She's wearing a flowy floral dress that swishes around her knees, her blonde hair styled into a sleek ponytail. Her blue eyes sparkle when she sees me.

"Amber!" she says, dropping her bag onto the floor. "How was your day? Please tell me it was more exciting than reviewing case studies for two hours straight."

I grin, swallowing a bite of pasta. "Well, it involved a lot of ballet, hyperactive kids, and now I'm mentally preparing to babysit one of my students tonight. So... maybe not exciting, but definitely exhausting."

Izzy's jaw drops, and she throws her hands up. "Babysitting and dance classes? Amber, you are a superhero. How are you even upright right now?"

I laugh, setting my fork down. "Honestly, I'm not sure. And to top it off, Celeste texted about a lit project meeting, and now I feel so bad for missing it."

Izzy gives me a look, raising an eyebrow. "Amber, it's one meeting. Cut yourself some slack."

My phone buzzes again. It's another message from Celeste.

Celeste: Also, if you change your mind later, we'll be at the library until 10!

I let out an exaggerated sigh, and Izzy leans over, her dress rustling as she crosses her arms on the table. "You are the definition of a people pleaser," she says, smirking. "But seriously, you're allowed to have a life. Babysitting is a totally valid excuse."

I look up at her, feeling a little less stressed. "You're right. But if they all hate me, I'm blaming you."

Izzy laughs, pushing her chair back. "Fine, blame me. But I'll be busy being the most fashionable business student ever." She strikes a mock runway pose, making her dress twirl.

I snort, finishing the last of my pasta. "You definitely are. And thanks, Izzy. I needed that pep talk."

She waves me off, giving me a playful salute. "Go get ready, and remember: you've got this. Steve the succulent believes in you, and so do I."

Feeling slightly more energized, I head back to my room to pack my babysitting essentials. As I stuff a book and some snacks into my bag, Izzy calls out from the kitchenette.

"Good luck, babysitting superstar! And if things get wild, just remember: bribery with snacks works wonders."

I laugh, grabbing my things. "Thanks, Izzy. I'll keep that in mind."

With one last look at our cozy, inviting dorm, I take a deep breath and head out the door, step out, the cool evening air brushing against my skin. The city lights are just beginning to twinkle, and the campus is alive with students heading to their evening plans. Laughter and conversation blend into the soft hum of the night, and I can't help but feel a buzz of anticipation.

The sidewalks are lined with tall trees whose leaves rustle gently, and streetlights cast warm glows along my path. As I walk, my ballet bag slung over my shoulder, I pass familiar campus landmarks: the stone fountain that's always surrounded by people, the little coffee shop that's somehow always open, and the library, where I imagine my lit project group gathering inside. The thought of missing the meeting tugs at my mind, but I push it aside, determined to focus on babysitting tonight.

Leaving campus behind, the streets grow quieter as I enter the neighborhood where Lily lives. The houses are charming, with neatly trimmed lawns and glowing porch lights that make everything feel welcoming. I adjust the strap of my bag, mentally checking that I've packed everything I'll need: snacks, a book, my phone charger—all the essentials for babysitting survival.

The walk is peaceful, and as I approach Lily's house, I try to shake off any lingering nerves. Her home is small but well-kept, with flower pots lining the porch and a cheerful wreath hanging on the door. I take a deep breath, steadying myself. You've got this, Amber, I think. Just a few hours of babysitting. How hard can it be?

With that thought, I make my way up the front steps and ring the doorbell. The door swings open, and Lily's mom greets me with a warm but hurried smile. She looks tired, her hair pulled back in a simple bun and a pair of scrubs hinting at her long shift ahead. "Amber, thank you so much for coming on such short notice," she says, sounding both relieved and grateful. "You're a lifesaver."

I smile shyly, tucking a strand of my long black hair behind my ear. "It's no problem at all," I reply, my voice soft. "Lily and I will have a fun evening, won't we?"

Lily steps out from behind her mom, her dark hair in a simple ponytail and a hint of curiosity in her big eyes. She's clutching a worn stuffed bunny to her side, but she stands a bit taller, trying not to show too much of her shyness. At nine years old, she's clearly working on being more grown-up but still has that sweet, tentative demeanor.

Her mom kneels down, brushing a gentle hand over Lily's hair. "Be good for Miss Amber, okay?" she says, and Lily nods, rolling her eyes slightly in that way kids do when their parents are too protective. But there's still a small smile tugging at her lips.

With a quick goodbye and a wave, her mom heads out, leaving the two of us standing in the entryway. I clear my throat, feeling the awkwardness settle in for a moment. "So, what should we do first?" I ask, trying to sound more confident than I feel.

Lily shifts from one foot to the other, thinking it over. "Well," she starts, her voice a bit louder and more assured than before, "we could play a game. But, like, something that's actually fun and not baby stuff." She gives me a pointed look, as if testing to see if I'm the kind of babysitter who understands the difference.

I grin, relieved at her honesty. "Of course," I say. "I'm all for games that aren't baby stuff. Got any favorites?"

Her face brightens a bit, and she tilts her head toward the living room. "We have this puzzle that's a thousand pieces," she says, sounding both proud and a little competitive. "But it's really hard. I bet I could do it faster than you."

I raise an eyebrow, accepting the challenge. "Oh, really? We'll see about that."

Lily's confidence grows as she leads the way into the living room, which is cozy and welcoming, with a big, plush couch and shelves full of books and games. She pulls the puzzle box from the shelf and plops down on the rug, setting the box between us.

"Okay, no cheating," she says, giving me a playful, serious look. "And no looking at the picture for hints."

I chuckle, sitting across from her. "Deal," I say, holding up my hands in mock surrender. "I'm ready when you are."

We start sorting through the pieces, and as we get into the rhythm of the puzzle, the initial awkwardness begins to melt away. Lily chats more freely, telling me stories about school and her friends, occasionally making exaggerated comments about how she's definitely winning. I can't help but smile, feeling the warmth of our growing connection.

As we work together, the puzzle starts to take shape, and Lily's laughter fills the room when I accidentally put a piece in the wrong spot. "See?" she teases. "Told you this puzzle was hard. You're totally losing."

I laugh, rolling my eyes. "Okay, okay, you might be right. But don't get too confident yet—I'm a secret puzzle master."

Lily giggles, her earlier shyness almost entirely gone now. And for the first time in what feels like a long day, I feel completely at ease.

A few hours pass in a whirlwind of puzzle pieces, snack breaks, and Lily's hilarious stories about her school friends. She's declared herself the reigning puzzle champion, and I've accepted my role as the humble (and apparently very slow) challenger. We've spilled popcorn, laughed at silly jokes, and created the most chaotic snack mess imaginable. But as the clock ticks past 10 PM, Lily's energy finally starts to fade.

"Okay, kiddo," I say, stretching out my legs, which are sore from sitting on the floor for so long. "Time to hit the hay. Even puzzle champions need their beauty sleep."

Lily scrunches her nose, clutching her stuffed bunny with mock indignation. "Fine," she says, drawing the word out dramatically. "But only because I need to rest up for another victory tomorrow."

I grin, helping her to her feet and guiding her to her bedroom. Her room is decorated with fairy lights and covered in pastel bedding that looks like it was designed by a unicorn. She climbs into bed, bunny tucked securely under her arm, and I tuck her in, making sure the lights are glowing softly.

"Goodnight, Lily," I whisper, giving her a smile.

"Night, Miss Amber," she mumbles, already half-asleep. I close the door halfway, leaving a slice of light from the hallway. Whew. Mission accomplished.

I head back to the living room, now in blissful silence, and flop onto the couch. The puzzle is still mocking me from the floor, so I decide to grab The Little Prince from my bag and refresh my memory. I curl up, getting lost in the story, and before I know it, the clock is pushing midnight. The house creaks softly, and the quiet is almost soothing.

That is, until the front door swings open.

I jump about a foot in the air, clutching my book like it's a weapon. Okay, Amber, calm down, I think. It's probably just Lily's mom. Except when I turn around, it's not Lily's mom standing there.

It's Bryan. That Bryan 

He stands in the doorway, his jaw hanging open slightly as he takes in the sight of me, frozen on the couch like a deer caught in headlights. He's in a navy hoodie and dark jeans, his hair looking like he's just run his hands through it, and his expression is somewhere between disbelief and amusement.

"What are you doing here?" he asks, his voice low and full of disbelief.

I'm still trying to process the fact that Bryan is standing in front of me. "I... I'm babysitting Lily," I manage to stammer, feeling a mix of shock and embarrassment. "What are you doing here?"

He raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "I live here. Lily's my sister."

My mouth drops open, and I stare at him, completely floored. Lily's his sister?  I suddenly feel like I've walked straight into some bizarre parallel universe.

I stare at him, "You're Lily's brother?" My voice comes out in a squeak, and I'm pretty sure my face is a shade of red that's not even on the color wheel.

Bryan leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms, clearly enjoying every second of my shock. "Surprise," he says, and there's a teasing glint in his eyes. "Didn't expect me, did you?"

I groan, dropping my face into my hands. "Of all the people in the universe..." I mutter, feeling like the universe is playing the cruelest joke on me. Bryan , the guy who's been driving me insane, turns out to be the brother of the sweet girl I've been babysitting all night.

He chuckles, stepping further into the room. "Well, this just got interesting," he says, and I can't help but wish I could sink into the couch and disappear.

—----------

Hey, amazing readers! 🎉 Thanks so much for reading this chapter—what a wild twist with Bryan, huh? Amber definitely wasn't ready for that! If you're enjoying the story, please hit that ⭐️ and add it to your library. Your support means everything!

Can't wait to share what happens next. See you soon!