The train car rocked gently as it rattled down the tracks, live music spilling from the corner stage. Jason leaned against the wall, red James Dean jacket catching the dim light, cool and effortless.

You stepped in, pink blazer and skirt in full Elle Woods glory, your blonde hair bouncing with every step. He looked up, that mischievous half-smile tugging at his lips.

“Well, if it isn’t Elle Woods,” he said, his voice teasing. “You clean up nicely.”

You spun on your heel, striking a mock-model pose. “And you, Mr. James Dean, are exactly as rebellious as everyone says.”

He raised an eyebrow, stepping closer, his jacket brushing your arm. “Rebellious enough to steal a dance?”

You laughed, twirling the ends of your hair. “Only if you promise not to break any hearts.”

Jason smirked, offering his hand. “Hearts are safe… for now.”

You let him lead you onto the small dance floor near the stage. The live band’s jazzy rhythm pulsed around you. You matched his movements, playful and teasing, leaning just close enough for him to catch the scent of your perfume.

“You’re dangerously good at this,” you said, glancing up at him.

“Damn right,” he murmured, his hand brushing yours in a touch that lingered a heartbeat too long.

The music swelled, and you both laughed, spinning and stepping in sync. The world outside blurred past, but here, in the dim light and music, it was just the two of you, flirty, electric, and perfectly matched.

“You know,” you said, pretending to pout, “Elle Woods isn’t supposed to get distracted by rebels.”

Jason leaned closer, his voice low and teasing. “Good thing you’re not supposed to follow rules tonight.”