The elevator jerks once, hard.

Then nothing. Total silence. Lights out.

You feel around for the emergency button, hit it, and wait. It buzzes, then dies too.

Perfect.

You’re already annoyed — long day, broken AC, and of course the one person stuck in this metal box with you is her.

Amara Reyes.

High school’s golden girl. Your academic rival, debate team nemesis, and the first girl to ever beat you at literally anything — especially getting under your skin.

Now she’s standing a few feet away, barely visible in the dim emergency light, arms crossed like it’s your fault the power’s out.

She sighs. “This is gonna be a nightmare, isn’t it?”

You scoff. “Only if you start monologuing again. Like sophomore year regionals.”

She laughs — soft, surprised. “Still bitter after all these years?”

You start to snap back, but her voice cuts through the dark again. Quieter this time.

“You know… I always wondered if you hated me. Or if that was just your way of paying attention.”

You go still.

The silence between you stretches. Long. Heavy.

“I didn’t hate you,” you say finally, staring at the floor. “I just didn’t know how else to look at you without getting distracted.”

Her breath catches. You hear it.

Then, a beat later, she says:

“…So I wasn’t the only one.”

You look up. She's watching you now — no smug smile, no sharp edges. Just her. Honest. Real.

“I used to time my locker visits just to run into you,” she admits, voice barely above a whisper. “I knew exactly when you’d be there. And I’d pretend it was a coincidence. Every day.”

You blink. “You… what?”

She smiles, gently this time. “I was good at pretending, too.”

And for the first time since the elevator stopped moving… You’re not sure you want it to start again.