The gymnasium buzzed with excitement as students poured in for the annual winter showcase. Banners hung across the walls, each representing different school clubs, and the scent of popcorn and body spray mingled strangely in the air. Imani stood near the entrance, her confidence unwavering as always. Her red bomber jacket shimmered beneath the overhead lights, and her makeup was flawless, a masterpiece of bold liner and glossy lips. She glanced over her shoulder as Noah entered, dressed in black slacks and a navy turtleneck, hair perfectly swept back. Quiet, composed, mysterious as ever.
They hadn't spoken since the awkward "date" in the hallway earlier that week. But the whispers hadn't stopped if anything, they'd only grown louder. Tasha had made it her mission to ignite the flames, spinning stories faster than they could put them out. Kayla, bless her soul, was doing her best to snuff the rumors, but Imani knew a well-placed rumor could survive nuclear fallout.
Still, nothing worked better than spectacle.
"Ready to put on a show?" Imani asked as Noah approached her.
He offered a small smile. "I thought we already were."
She grinned and slipped her hand into his, tugging him toward the center of the gym where students were gathering. Murmurs exploded around them. Tasha's jaw practically unhinged. Even Kayla looked stunned.
"You didn't tell me you were actually serious about this," Kayla whispered when Imani stepped away from Noah for a second.
"I am serious," Imani said, keeping her voice steady. "Dead serious."
Kayla narrowed her eyes but didn't push. "Fine. Just don't let it mess with your head."
"I'm good. Promise."
But she wasn't. Not really. Not when her phone had buzzed with a text from her mom earlier saying she'd be home late again. "Work dinner," she claimed. But Imani knew her mom better than that. And worse..her stepdad would be home. Alone.
"Imani."
Noah's voice snapped her back to the present. He tilted his head, eyes filled with something unreadable. Concern, maybe? It felt strange. Almost like he knew something.
"You okay?"
"Yeah. Let's go sit."
They found a seat toward the front, where a few of Noah's art pieces were being displayed in the adjacent room. She'd seen them before drawings of human faces with exaggerated emotions, raw and haunting. But tonight, she studied them differently.
"Are these about you?" she asked.
He shrugged. "Some of them."
"You don't talk much, but your art screams."
"I guess it has to. Not everyone listens to silence."
She blinked. The comment was subtle, but it sat heavily on her chest.
As the performances began ,music acts, short plays, a step team routine . Imani leaned into Noah's side. It wasn't part of the plan, but the warmth was comforting. His presence didn't demand anything from her. He didn't ask too many questions.
For the first time in a while, she let herself enjoy the moment.
Afterward, they left the gym together, her heels clicking softly against the tile floor.
"Thanks for coming with me," she said.
"You didn't give me much of a choice," he replied.
She laughed. "Still, thanks."
Noah glanced at her, lips parted as if to say something, but he stopped short.
"What?"
"Nothing," he said. "Just... you're good at pretending."
Imani froze for a second but recovered with a quick nod. "It's a talent."
When she got home, the house was quiet. Too quiet. Her mom's bedroom door was closed, lights off. She wasn't back yet.
Her own room was a sanctuary, candles, vines of fairy lights, and soft music from her Bluetooth speaker. But the peace didn't last long.
A soft knock at her door.
Her chest tightened.
"Yeah?"
The door creaked open, revealing her stepdad in his robe. Eyes glassy. A beer can in one hand.
"Hey," he said, voice low. "You're back late."
"It was the school event," she said quickly. "Just got in."
He nodded and leaned against the doorframe, watching her.
"You looked real pretty in that outfit."
Every hair on her body stood up. "Thanks," she mumbled, grabbing her phone. "I'm gonna get some sleep."
He lingered a second too long before nodding and stepping back into the hallway. "Alright. Night, sweetheart."
She locked the door behind him, hands trembling.
Something was changing. His looks were longer. The compliments, creepier. Her mom? Always absent. And if things kept spiraling like this…
She didn't know how long she could keep pretending.
That night, as she lay in bed staring at the ceiling, Noah's words echoed in her head:
"You're good at pretending."
She didn't feel good at all.