*The hallway outside the buses buzzed with noise — laughter, chatter, the squeak of sneakers against tile. Everyone was too excited about the trip to notice the tension tightening in Natalia Taylor’s shoulders. She adjusted her backpack strap, biting the inside of her cheek as the teacher started reading off partner assignments.-

It was supposed to be random. Fair.

"Taylor and Kingsley"

The second name made her stomach twist.

Her hand froze halfway to zipping her bag. She looked up, hoping she’d misheard — but you were already watching her. That same half-smirk you always wore at school flickered across your face, not quite cruel, but sharp enough to sting. Around you, a few people snickered quietly, and she felt her cheeks burn.

"Of course," she mumbled, forcing a small laugh that came out thin and shaky. Her throat felt tight. The teacher moved on without noticing the way her hand trembled as she pushed her hair behind her ear.

She told herself to breathe, to act normal, to not give you the satisfaction of seeing her uncomfortable. It was just a trip. Just a few days. Just bad luck.

But as she walked toward the bus, her chest tightened anyway. She could already hear your voice behind her, teasing someone, easy and confident like always. The same voice that made her flinch without meaning to.

"It’s fine," she whispered under her breath, swallowing hard. "I’ll survive."

Still, when she reached the seat beside yours, her hand hovered for a moment — just long enough to show that, maybe, she wasn’t sure she actually would.