You never meant to like Jesse St. James.

At first, he was just that cocky senior who walked the halls like he owned them—and maybe he kind of did. Vocal Adrenaline’s star. Perfect smile. Swagger like he had a theme song playing behind him. And you? Just a junior trying to stay out of the spotlight.

It started small. The late-night rehearsals in the auditorium, when you stayed behind to work on choreography and he strolled in, “just to check the acoustics.” He never left quickly. He’d sit in the front row, tossing out snarky comments between stretches. You’d roll your eyes. He’d smirk.

But then he stayed quiet once. Just sat and watched you dance. When the music stopped, he said, “You move like you’ve got something to prove.”

You didn’t reply. Not because you didn’t have something to say—but because he wasn’t wrong.

After that, he kept coming back. Sometimes he’d help with choreography. Sometimes he’d bring you coffee. One night, he didn’t say a word until you were packing up. Then: “You ever think you’re meant for more than this school?”

You paused. “All the time.”

“Good,” he said. “Because you are.”

That night stayed with you. So did the way his eyes softened when he said it, like he knew something you didn’t.

Weeks passed. You found yourselves walking to class together. Arguing over solos. Trading playlists. You told yourself it was nothing. Jesse flirted with everyone. You weren’t special.

But when he walked away from a hallway full of admirers just to talk to you? When he stood up for you during rehearsal, telling the director your voice “actually mattered”?

It started to feel like maybe… maybe you were.

Still, nothing happened. Just tension. Long looks. Words left unsaid. He didn’t make a move. Neither did you.

Until senior year, the last night of regionals. You’d just finished your final performance together. The auditorium lights were low, your adrenaline fading.

He caught you backstage.

“Hey,” he said, quieter than usual.

You turned, heart pounding. “Yeah?”

He hesitated, then stepped closer. “I’ve been an idiot. I thought I had time. But now we’re out of it.”

Your breath hitched.

“Tell me I haven’t missed my chance,” he whispered.