Mia didn't stop running until she was outside the auditorium, gasping for breath, the cool evening air doing little to extinguish the flush on her face. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic rhythm that echoed the chaos in her mind. Kris's confession, the unexpected weight of his head on her shoulder, the raw vulnerability in his eyes – it all swirled into a dizzying vortex, impossible to reconcile with the arrogant rival she thought she knew. And then James, bursting in, shattering the fragile moment, leaving her exposed and humiliated.
"Mia! Wait up!"
James's voice cut through her internal din, and she flinched, not wanting to talk, not wanting to process. But he was her best friend, and he knew her too well to be deterred. He caught up to her, his expression a mixture of worry and something akin to awe.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice softer now, sensing her distress. "What was that back there? I walked in and... wow. Kris Windsor, leaning on your shoulder? What in the world happened?"
Mia dragged a hand through her hair, frustration bubbling to the surface. "I don't even know, James. He just... he started talking about his dad, and expectations, and how stressed he was with the competition, and then he just... did that." She gestured vaguely back towards the building. "He looked completely exhausted. Like the entire week had just caught up to him."
James leaned against a lamppost, watching her intently. "Exhausted enough to drop his guard and lean on you? Mia, you've been working him for six days straight. He's been awful to you. And now, out of the blue, he's spilling his guts and getting physical? That's not just exhaustion. That's... something else."
"It's just the bet," Mia insisted, though her voice lacked conviction. "He's just incredibly stressed. And I was... there."
James scoffed gently. "Mia, I saw the way he snapped at Leo today. And yesterday. He doesn't just snap like that. He was livid because Leo was talking to you. He sees you as his. Whether it's as his assistant or... something more, that possessiveness is real. And the way he looked at you just now, before I walked in? That wasn't just a boss thanking his employee." He paused, his gaze softening. "Are you going to pretend you didn't feel anything when he was like that? When he was... vulnerable?"
Mia's cheeks burned. She wanted to deny it, to dismiss it, to cling to the familiar animosity that had always defined their relationship. But James knew her too well. She thought of the surprising warmth of Kris's head on her shoulder, the raw confession about his father, the subtle way he'd steadied her during training, the unexpected tea. These moments, like scattered puzzle pieces, suddenly began to form a disquieting picture. Her own performance as Hermia, infused with a confusing blend of genuine affection and frustration for Kris-as-Lysander, suddenly made terrifying sense. The emotional depth Ms. Dubois praised – it wasn't just acting. It was bleeding from their real-life tension, from the unnerving connection that had formed this week.
"It's... confusing," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "He's Kris Windsor. He's my sworn enemy. He's arrogant and infuriating and..." She trailed off, unable to articulate the unexpected, unsettling vulnerability she'd witnessed, the strange care she'd felt. The memory of the anonymous letter, with its grudging admiration for him, resurfaced, mocking her denial.
"Confusing, or terrifying?" James supplied gently. "Because, from where I'm standing, the line between hate and... something else, got pretty blurry for both of you this week. Especially for him." He nudged her playfully. "And for you. Admit it. He gets under your skin in a way no one else does. Even if it's infuriating."
Mia sighed, a long, weary exhalation. He was right. He always was. This week had fundamentally altered her perception of Kris. The bet, initially a childish game, had become a crucible, melting away their carefully constructed facades and revealing layers she never knew existed. His unexpected possessiveness, the flashes of genuine talent, the surprising vulnerability – it was all too much to process. The effortless way their characters entwined on stage, the raw emotion that had felt so real, was no longer just acting. It was a reflection of the tumultuous, undeniable connection that had sparked between them.
"So, what now?" James asked, echoing Kris's earlier question, but with genuine concern. "The bet's over. But this... thing between you two isn't."
Mia shook her head, running her hands over her face. "I don't know, James. I really don't. All I know is, I need to focus on the showcase now. On Friday. Hermia. That's real. This... this is just..." She trailed off, unable to find the words. The reality of the bet might be over, but its consequences, the new, unsettling emotions it had stirred, were just beginning. She felt utterly exhausted, her mind a whirlwind of Kris Windsor.