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"I'm listening."
"She was the head cheerleader."
"Oh, no, say it ain't so. The canon continues." I pressed a hand to my chest. "I got something better, though."
She laughed. "Of course you do. Lay it on me."
"I went to an all-girls school."
Her mock gasp made me laugh. "Please don't tell me it was the dean's daughter."
"Nah. Coach of the soccer team's daughter – which was worse, in my opinion."
"Was she your first kiss?"
I nodded. "She was. A soccer game, near the public restrooms. She gave me her scrunchie, and I wore it on my wrist for the rest of the semester, even though she refused to even look at me after."
Sage's smile faded. "That was shitty of her."
"Yeah, well." I waved my hand. "We were kids."
"Kids are shitty."
"Lovely thing to say on a middle school campus," I told her in a low tone as a group of students walked by.
She shrugged and tugged on her backpack. "Someone's gotta tell them."
"I think our job description fits more into a wise master." I joined her side as she made her way to the sidewalk.
"I prefer to be an antagonist," she said easily.
I was wearing my lucky blue heels, so I had a little trouble keeping up with her as we made our way to the front door. She noticed my struggling stride and slowed to a more comfortable pace.
"I'll be their last obstacle on the way to glory," Sage continued. "Like a final boss. Kill me and possess all my art-making power."
"Do elaborate," I teased.
She laughed and paused when we got to a set of stairs. Instead of reaching for the railing like I did, Sage offered her hand. It took me a second to realize what she was doing. Once I did, my stomach fluttered. The gesture seemed innocent enough—so was the look on her face. Still, the warmth growing in my stomach felt far from innocent.
There was no logical excuse to ignore her hand, especially since I was out of practice walking in heels to begin with — working late nights meant letting go of dressing up and going out.
I slipped my fingers into her palm and murmured a 'thank you' as she helped me up the stairs. Her grip was gentle and firm, and Sage's gaze lingered on my steps, making sure I cleared each one with ease. My cheeks burned at how cared for the small act made me feel. It'd been a while since I'd been out on a date. I missed this kind of feeling, and I was embarrassed it had resurfaced with her, of all people.
I tried to find something, anything, that would distract me from the warring feelings in my chest. My gaze rested on Sage's backpack, the frayed edge of where her strap met the body of the bag. It'd be easy to fix, and I couldn’t help but imagine doing it.
"If anyone was to capture my powers, I think I'd want it to be you," Sage said, drawing my gaze away from the broken strap and to her warm eyes.
It felt like something was lodged in my throat when I tried to swallow. The entire exchange had been nice and easy, almost comforting, because we had gone through similar things in middle school, just like we were going through similar things now.
Before falling completely into this new comfortable feeling, I forced myself to take a metaphorical step back. Sage wasn't going to suddenly like me. I hadn't proven myself to her. According to Inkmic, I was quite literally beneath her. I'd spent enough time with artists to know true acceptance came in the form of respect. I wouldn't get that from her at number sixty.
"I find that hard to believe," I said in my normal tone as I walked through the glass sliding door at the school's entrance. I picked the pace up, exceeding the one she'd set before. Sage had to shuffle a little to catch up to me, and I felt her gaze on me, heavy with confusion. She didn't say anything, though, and neither did I as we made our way to the front desk for our visitor passes.
"Sage Montgomery?" a breathless voice asked right when we'd stuck our badges on our chests. Sage and I turned around in unison.
"Oh, wow." A woman about our age hurried over to greet us. "Hi, I'm Ms. Trenton. Luna Trenton. My class is the one you're talking to today."
I’m sure her words made sentences, but from how fast she was talking, every word blended into one big one. Luna's cheeks were rosy-red as she offered her hand to Sage. She had a beautiful gap-tooth smile and tight brown curls that made her bob seem ethereal.
