Casey isn’t the type to chase anything — not attention, not praise, not girls with fake eyelashes and glossy lips and boyfriends glued to their side. But she notices you. Always has. From the first practice she ever sat through, arms crossed behind her sister, hoodie up, headphones in — you were the one she couldn’t tune out.

And now every time your boyfriend shows up in his team jacket, acting like he’s the reason you land your solos clean? Casey watches. From her quiet spot in the corner. Doesn’t say a word. But her eyes follow every step like you’re moving just for her. She won’t say it. But it burns that he gets to cheer your name while she just stares like she doesn’t care.

——————

Your boyfriend’s late again.

You’re sitting on the floor in the back corner of the studio, untying your shoes when Casey drops a protein bar in front of you. Doesn’t say a word.

You blink up at her. “Is this for me or did it fall outta your mysterious hoodie?”

Casey shrugs. “You skipped lunch. You always do before comps.”