Wait

The bass from the speaker in the corner made the floorboards under Sienna Langford's bare feet vibrate. Vivian's off-campus apartment was already packed, the pre-game spilling out of the living room into the tiny kitchen and the narrow hallway that smelled like vanilla candles and spilled vodka. Sienna stood at the counter in a paint-flecked crop top and denim shorts, shaking a metal cocktail shaker like it owed her money. Laughter bounced around her. Someone yelled her name. She flashed the bright, easy smile that always came when people were watching, but her blue eyes kept sliding to the front door every few seconds.

Where the hell was Ciara?

She poured neon-pink liquid into plastic cups and handed them off without looking. Her pulse sat too high in her throat, that familiar tight coil of anxiety she never let anyone see. On the outside she was the golden one, the girl who planned the themes and mixed the drinks and pulled everyone onto the makeshift dance floor. Inside, everything felt one wrong breath away from tipping. She needed Ciara here. Needed the quiet weight of her presence to settle something loose in her chest.

The door opened. Cool evening air cut through the heat of bodies. Ciara stepped in wearing an oversized gray hoodie that swallowed her runner's frame, dark hair in its usual thick braid, one hand stuffed in the front pocket like she might bolt. She looked like she would rather be anywhere else—library, trail, her own quiet room. The second Sienna saw her, the room tilted. Music dulled. The chatter faded into background static. All she registered was the soft chestnut eyes scanning the crowd, the faint scar on Ciara's knee just visible above the edge of her jeans, the way she hung back near the wall instead of diving in.

Sienna's smile stayed glued on, but something hot and careful opened under her ribs. Vivian appeared at her elbow, all sleek dark hair and gold jewelry, phone already in hand.

"Babe, spring formal," Vivian said, dragging her half a step away from the shaker. "I need your brain for five minutes. Theme's almost locked but the venue still sucks and we have to decide tonight before the committee eats us alive."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm in," Sienna answered, voice light and automatic. She let Vivian pull her toward the couch, but her gaze stayed locked over Vivian's shoulder on Ciara, who had drifted toward the bookshelf like it was the only safe island in the room. Vivian kept talking about string lights and photo backdrops and whether they should do a masquerade thing. Sienna nodded, made the right noises, laughed when Vivian made a face about budget. None of it stuck. She watched the way Ciara's fingers trailed along the spines of the paperbacks, careful, precise, the complete opposite of the chaos swirling around her.

After what felt like forever, Vivian got pulled into a group selfie near the window. Sienna slipped free. She cut through the bodies, heart knocking hard enough she was sure someone would hear it, and stopped a few feet from Ciara at the tall wooden shelf that lived against the far wall.

"You hate this," Sienna said, soft enough that only Ciara would catch it. "I can see it from here."

Ciara glanced over. A small, dry almost-smile touched her mouth. "Loud. Crowded. Predictable." She pulled a thin paperback free and held it up slightly. "But I found this. Early edition. Someone left it here like trash."

Sienna stepped closer until the noise of the party became a blur. The space between them felt charged, electric under the fluorescent kitchen light leaking into the living room. She smelled clean laundry and the faint outdoor scent Ciara always carried from her morning runs. "What is it?"

"Poetry. Quiet stuff. The kind that doesn't try to shout over itself." Ciara's voice stayed measured, warm underneath the reserve. "I almost didn't come tonight."

Sienna's stomach flipped. She kept her tone easy, but her fingers worried the edge of her crop top. "Yeah? Why did you?"

Ciara looked at her fully then. The chestnut eyes held something unreadable and careful. "Because I knew you'd be here. Figured that was reason enough."

The words landed like a hand pressed flat against Sienna's sternum. Heat flooded her face. She wanted to say something clever or flirty or safe, the way she did with everyone else, but the usual sparkle short-circuited. Instead she just stood there, gold hair falling over one shoulder, freckles standing out under the low light, feeling the familiar ache bloom sharp and sweet. She was not supposed to want this. Not her best friend's little sister. Not the quiet girl who protected her peace like it was the last solid thing left. Yet here she was, heart racing, drinking in every small detail—the gold hoop in Ciara's ear, the way her braid rested against the soft fabric of the hoodie, the stillness that made Sienna feel both steadied and completely off-balance.

"I'm glad you came," Sienna managed. Her voice came out quieter, stripped of the party volume. "Even if you look like you're counting the minutes until you can leave."

Ciara's dry humor flickered again. "I'm always counting. Doesn't mean I regret walking through the door." She turned the book in her hands, thumb brushing the worn cover. "You good? You look... bright. Brighter than usual. Which is saying something."

Sienna forced a laugh, the sound a little too thin. The anxiety sat right under her skin, waiting. "I'm always good. It's my whole brand." She wanted to tell the truth—that the mask was slipping, that the constant motion and drinks and laughter were the only things keeping the static from getting too loud. But Vivian's voice cut across the room before she could find the words.

"Everybody listen up!" Vivian clapped her hands, grin sharp and excited. "We're rolling out in ten. Local bar, my treat for the first round, and nobody is allowed to be boring. Sienna, you're leading the charge, girl. Get these people out the door."

The announcement cracked the private bubble. Sienna felt the familiar armor snap back into place. She straightened, flashed the wide sparkling smile the room expected, and spun toward the crowd with her hands in the air.

"You heard her! Cups down, shoes on, let's make some noise before the night dies of boredom."

People cheered. Someone cranked the music higher. Bodies started moving toward coats and bags. Sienna kept the energy high, herding friends, laughing loud, already half-planning which song she would claim on the jukebox later. But as she reached the door and glanced back one last time, she found Ciara still by the bookshelf, paperback tucked under one arm, watching her with that same unreadable expression. Not irritation. Not boredom. Something quieter and mutual, like a held breath neither of them was ready to name.

Sienna's chest tightened again, that secret ache flaring bright. She held Ciara's gaze for one extra second, then turned and led the pack out into the cool night, mask firmly in place, heart still racing somewhere far behind the laughter.