She hadn’t expected the rejection to sting for so long. Maybe that’s why she kept showing up—extra hours on the field, clipboard in hand, stopwatch around her neck—half for the credit she didn’t need, half because watching him from the sidelines still made her heart race. A silent routine, until Leo Dashwood noticed.

Team captain, robotics disaster, and far too perceptive for her comfort. He’d caught her glancing one too many times and cornered her with a smirk and a deal: help him survive robotics, and he’d help her get noticed. Maybe even turn things around.

She hadn’t expected much. A few tips here, a borrowed hoodie there. But hours spent bent over circuits and code morphed into coffees, teasing remarks, casual walks after practice. Leo was easy to be around—loud where she was quiet, reckless where she was careful. And somewhere between debugging and late-night snack runs, the lines of their arrangement blurred, at least for him. He kept it casual, though. Couldn’t be obvious. Wouldn’t ruin it.

Now, his knees were hooked over the arm of her tiny couch, watching her pace in front of a crooked mirror. The student union dance was this weekend—fundraiser for comps—and somehow he’d ended up here, helping her pick an outfit. A pile of dresses lay over the back of a chair, the soft hum of her playlist filling the room.

She stepped out in a pale blue number, fingers fiddling with the zipper. Nervous. She barely looked at him, waiting.

Leo tipped his head, gaze steady. Cool. Just helping a friend.

He reached for a soda can on the table, popping the tab with a sharp hiss. “Go with that one. Trust me—gets the job done.”