"Didn't Sir Matt say the more dramatic, the better?" Rue muttered under her breath as they waited behind the makeshift curtain—a couple of stacked whiteboards and a beach towel strung between two bamboo poles.
Elijah gave a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his neck. "Did you take notes from Charlotte or something?"
Rue lifted an eyebrow, a slow smirk forming. "Ha. No. I'm pretty dramatic all on my own."
He looked like he wanted to say something clever, but instead just gave her a sideways glance—half amused, half… cautious. He was beginning to realize she wasn't joking.
Sir Matt suddenly popped into view at center stage, wielding a microphone like a baton. "Up next," he bellowed, "a performance from Team Mango Shake! May it be as sweet as their name and twice as entertaining!"
"Mango Shake?" Rue said in disbelief, eyes narrowing. "Please tell me you didn't name us that."
"Definitely not," Elijah said, lips twitching into a crooked smile.
Of course. Charlotte.
As if summoned by thought, Charlotte appeared in the tech corner, handing off a USB and waving at the crew like a seasoned stage mom. She caught Rue's glare and winked, mouthing, You're welcome.
"Oh my God," Rue whispered. "We're gonna die up there."
"You still remember the moves?" Elijah asked, stepping forward slightly, eyes scanning the stage.
Rue crossed her arms. "Barely. But no one from your office knows me anyway. If we bomb, I'm disappearing into the ocean."
The crowd clapped in warm encouragement as Sir Matt cleared the stage and the opening chords of Madcon's "Beggin'" began to pulse through the speakers.
Rue exhaled. There was no turning back.
"Here we go."
🎵 "Ohhh… put your lovin' hand out, baby…"
Rue turned slowly, her posture elegant, deliberate—like she was stepping into a forgotten dream. Her eyes found Elijah's, softening into something almost tender. Her hand lifted to his cheek, brushing gently along his jawline. It was a moment that crackled with unspoken history.
Longing.
Hesitation.
But then—her expression shifted.
A flash of betrayal. Of anger buried under years of silence.
🎵 "I'm beggin'…"
SLAP.
Elijah stumbled backward in dramatic slow motion, clutching his chest like he'd just taken a bullet. A collective gasp broke from the crowd, followed by wild laughter and whistles.
Rue spun on her heel, storming away like a telenovela lead mid-breakup. Behind her, Elijah staggered in drunken heartbreak steps, arms flailing slightly, then collapsed to his knees, pounding the floor like he was auditioning for General Hospital: Beach Edition.
Rue turned, lifted her hands, and yanked an imaginary door from the air. With exaggerated flair, she slammed it shut.
The crowd howled.
Elijah scrambled to the invisible wall, pounding against it with perfect comedic timing, mouthing silent pleas as if trapped outside her world. He slumped down, defeated, head in his hands.
Meanwhile, Rue strutted toward stage left, grabbed a plastic chair, and marched it to center stage. She dropped into it with the elegance of a queen who'd had enough of love, men, and poor groupmates. Legs crossed, arms folded. Her glare said: Try me.
Elijah stood slowly, wiping fake tears from his cheeks. Then, with a deep breath, he launched into his grand redemption arc—ridiculous body rolls, a confused moonwalk, a spin that almost knocked over a mic stand. Each move more desperate than the last.
From the audience, Charlotte shrieked, "THAT'S MY BESTFRIEND!"
Jason, slipped from the crowd sipping pineapple juice with his free hand, pumped both fists in the air. "This is the best thing I've ever seen!"
Even Sir Matt wiped a fake tear. "They're not just building bridges today, folks… they're healing wounds."
The music dipped, softening as it built toward the final chorus.
Elijah stopped dancing.
No more tricks. No more comedy.
He stepped forward, slowly, letting the silence settle.
Gone was the over-the-top heartbreak act. Now he looked like himself—bare, vulnerable, steady. He extended his hand toward Rue.
No words. Just the question in his eyes.
Rue didn't move at first. She stared at him, heart hammering. But something in her softened. Slowly—almost reluctantly—she rose from her chair and placed her hand in his.
They moved together, seamlessly slipping into the choreography from their old high school project. It wasn't polished, but it was familiar. Muscle memory. Trust.
Spin. Step. Slide.
And then—Rue braced herself. She remembered how it ended. Elijah would spin her into a final dip and freeze there. That was the plan.
Only—
He didn't dip her.
Instead, Elijah pulled her gently into his arms. No choreography. No finale pose. Just an embrace.
A real one.
Tight. Warm. Sincere.
Rue's breath caught. Her hand hovered against his chest. His scent—a mix of sweat, sunscreen, and something so unmistakably Elijah—filled her lungs.
She hadn't expected that. Not in front of everyone. Not with music still echoing in her ears and her thoughts screaming louder than the beat.
But she didn't pull away either.
🎵 Put your lovin' hand out, darlin'…
They stood like that, locked in something more honest than anything they'd said all week.
A second too long passed.
And then—applause.
Thunderous. Cheering. Whistling. Glitter rained from Sir Matt's outstretched hands like confetti at a summer wedding.
"You two," he shouted into the mic, "have just earned the full package—glue, sticks, ribbon, and the first mango shake on the house!"
Charlotte bolted forward, catching the supplies like a contestant on The Price Is Right. "Sir Matt, I demand glitter refills!"
Sir Matt gasped. "You deserve them, queen!"
Jason handed her a paper cup of lemonade, still laughing. "I leave for ten minutes and come back to a telenovela finale."
Backstage, Rue and Elijah stepped down into the sand-lined path behind the stage.
Their faces were still flushed. Their shoulders too close.
Elijah looked at her, breath still slightly uneven. "So… the slap?"
Rue smirked. "Years in the making."
He grinned. "And the chair?"
"Improvised. I felt dramatic."
She brushed stray glitter off her arm and glanced out at the ocean. The applause still rang in her ears, but it wasn't what stuck with her.
It was the feel of Elijah's arms. The way he didn't let go right away.
Rue blinked, the moment slipping back into memory as she quietly made her way to the corner of their workspace. From there, she watched their team huddled around the table, gluing popsicle sticks with all the energy of a group that knew they'd already won.
Elijah was laughing with Jason, who'd finally reappeared after his mysterious disappearance. Rue caught his eye just as he mouthed a silent "Thank you."
She narrowed her eyes and gave him a dramatic eye roll — part scolding, part "don't think you're off the hook." But she couldn't keep the smirk off her face. In the end, she laughed under her breath.
They'd won.
No cleanup duty. An afternoon off. Mango shakes waiting.
And maybe, just maybe, something a little sweeter than that.