Maya lay in bed long after her alarm blared, her phone untouched on the nightstand. Morning light pressed through the blinds, dust particles dancing in its glow. But nothing could outshine the memory burning beneath her skin.
The kiss.
It hadn't been part of the plan. No discussion. No heads-up. No cue. Just the sudden press of Damien's lips against hers, his hands slipping around her waist like it was the most natural thing in the world. Firm. Warm. Intentional.
Too intentional.
And now, in the stillness of her dorm room, her mind picked it apart like a movie on slow replay.
She sat up, brushing tangled curls from her face and forcing her legs over the side of the bed. Her bare feet met the cold floor, grounding her, if only a little. Tessa's side of the room was already empty. Probably off at an early class or yoga or whatever it was Tessa did when Maya was unraveling inside.
The crowd had roared. Cheered. Screamed.
She'd stood frozen, heart in her throat, limbs tingling, lips still tingling.
Then Damien had pulled away -- not in a rush, but deliberate. His face unreadable. Except for that flicker… something unreadable but there. Something Maya was still trying to name.
And then he'd said it -- almost casually -- backstage:
"Crowds eat that up."
It had flattened something inside her. Deflated what had bloomed so recklessly in her chest.
And yet.
Had it really meant nothing?
Because what she'd felt... it wasn't performative. The way he'd looked at her wasn't for the crowd. The way his hands settled at her waist hadn't felt staged. If anything, they'd clung. And the kiss -- not quick or shallow -- was the kind of kiss that left fingerprints inside her.
Still, here she was, trying to box it up neatly. Tape the lid shut. Because letting herself believe it had meant something -- that it wasn't just some PR-worthy climax to a show -- that would be stupid, right?
And Damien Cross didn't do stupid.
She pulled on a hoodie, dragging it over her tank top like armor. She needed coffee. Space. Something to break the spinning in her head.
In the hallway, her steps felt heavier than usual. Every face she passed seemed to wear a knowing smirk, and she didn't know if it was paranoia or if news had spread. She'd forgotten that she and Damien weren't just students -- they'd been seen. That kiss was probably looped on everyone's Instagram stories by now.
She ducked into the café across from the arts building, fingers wrapped tight around a cup of black coffee she didn't even like. It was bitter and sharp and maybe that's what she needed -- something to jolt her out of whatever haze she'd been in since last night.
"Earth to Maya," Tessa's voice jolted her as her friend slid into the seat across from her, already sipping a smoothie with too many colors.
Maya blinked. "Sorry. Zoned out."
"Understatement of the year," Tessa said, raising a brow. "You've been off since last night. You okay?"
"I'm fine."
Tessa leaned in, lips twitching like she was holding back something wicked. "So… are we going to pretend Damien Cross didn't just kiss you like it was a season finale?"
Maya stiffened. "It was part of the show."
"Was it?" Tessa tilted her head, straw between her fingers. "Because that did not look like rehearsal to me. You were practically glowing."
Maya didn't answer.
Because the truth? She didn't know how to answer.
Tessa didn't press her, but her presence felt like a weight -- not heavy, but grounded. Like she was waiting for Maya to stop pretending she wasn't unraveling.
Maya stirred her coffee, though it didn't need stirring. The motion gave her hands something to do, kept her anchored in the moment.
"He said it was for the crowd," she finally muttered, eyes fixed on the swirl in her cup.
Tessa paused. "He said that?"
Maya gave a small nod, then shrugged. "Backstage. Afterward. He just… said the crowd eats that kind of thing up."
Tessa stared at her, her smoothie untouched now. "And you believed him?"
Maya hated how much the question made her throat tighten.
"I have to," she said, softer than she meant to. "I have to believe it meant nothing. Because if it did… and he still brushed it off like that..."
Tessa's silence was understanding in the worst kind of way.
Maya sighed. "Look, it doesn't matter. I shouldn't be overthinking it."
"But you are," Tessa said gently.
Maya leaned back, staring out the window, her reflection faint in the glass -- eyes tired, mouth unsmiling. "I shouldn't be. I barely know him."
She remembered his hands on her waist. Not hesitant. Not apologetic. Like they belonged there. And the way his mouth had lingered on hers just long enough to be real. Not rushed. Not rehearsed. Real.
But he hadn't looked back after. No knowing glance. No whispered explanation. Just the words: Crowds eat that up.
And then he was gone.
She hadn't expected a text -- that wasn't their dynamic, anyway -- but she'd expected... something. A glance. A nod. A moment of acknowledgment.
Instead, she was stuck with memories she couldn't be sure how to classify.
"I'm just tired," Maya muttered, as much to herself as to Tessa.
"You want to skip Lit?" Tessa offered.
"No. I need something else to think about."
Tessa frowned but nodded. "Alright. But if he talks to you, and you play it cool, I'm going to scream."
Maya cracked a dry smile. "You won't have to. I'm already pretending it never happened."
But it had. And her body remembered every second of it -- the shiver up her spine, the way her heart had slammed against her ribs, the heat in her cheeks that had nothing to do with the lights or the adrenaline.
She wasn't naïve. She knew people got caught up in the moment -- especially when onstage. And Damien was... Damien. Magnetic. Confident. The kind of boy who knew the effect he had and wielded it like a second language.
But something had flickered in his eyes. Just before. Just after.
She'd seen it.
Unless she imagined it.
God, maybe she imagined it.
By the time she reached Literature class, the seats were filling quickly. She slid into her usual spot near the middle, head low. Whispers buzzed behind her -- faint, but enough to tighten her chest.
She caught a few words: "show," "kiss," "Cross," "performance…"
The worst part? She couldn't even tell who meant it as gossip and who meant it as admiration.
When Damien walked in, the air shifted.
He didn't look at her.
He didn't glance or nod or smirk or act like anything had changed.
He just took his seat at the back, casually draping an arm across the chair beside him. Talking to the guy next to him like his lips hadn't touched hers. Like her whole world hadn't upended.
Maya stared down at her notebook.
This was exactly why she needed to believe it meant nothing. Because if she let herself believe otherwise -- if she gave weight to that kiss, to the way it had felt like a moment carved out just for them -- then the silence now would destroy her.
And she wasn't about to fall apart over Damien Cross.
Not now. Not ever.
Still, her pen trembled in her grip as the professor began lecturing.
By the time lecture ended, Maya hadn't heard a single word the professor said.
Her notebook was mostly blank -- save for the same line she'd written three times without realizing:
It didn't mean anything. It didn't mean anything.
She packed slowly, half-aware of the buzz around her. Whispers still floated -- show-stealing kiss, Damien Cross, bold move -- and though no one said her name aloud, she could feel it being implied in every glance that swept past her.
And still… he hadn't looked at her once.
Not when he walked in. Not during class. Not even now, when students filed out and his low, easy laugh rose behind her like nothing had ever happened.
She tightened her grip on her bag.
Just pretend. Pretend it's fine. Pretend it's over.
As she stepped into the hallway, her breath caught -- not from nerves, but from that electric sensation. That sense of being watched.
She didn't turn around.
She kept walking.
One step. Two. Three.
But then--
"Maya."
Her name.
Low. Measured. Right behind her.
She stopped.
The hallway blurred.
Slowly, she turned.
And there he was.
Damien.
Expression unreadable. Eyes locked on hers. Not smiling. Not smug.
Just watching her like she was the only thing in the hall worth noticing.
Her heart stuttered.
He stepped closer.
Then--
Fade to black.