The music building was always quiet on late afternoons, except for the distant hum of the dance studio down the hall. Third-year student Liana Cruz tucked herself into her usual corner seat by the window, a thick literature book open but barely read.
She wasn't really here to study.
From where she sat, she had the perfect view of the hallway that connected to the senior department's dance studio. If she timed it right, she'd catch a glimpse of Eli Ramos, the senior everyone on campus knew — lead dancer, choreographer, and the kind of guy who smiled like he meant it.
And right on cue, the studio door swung open.
Eli stepped out in a loose white shirt, hair damp with sweat, towel slung casually over his shoulder. He laughed at something his teammate said, that easy confidence in his every move. Lia quickly ducked her head, pretending to be absorbed in her book. Her heart thumped in rhythm with the beat still echoing faintly from the studio.
There he is again.
She'd admired him from afar since her first year — not because he was popular, but because of the way he danced. It wasn't just steps. It was like he told stories without needing words. Lia envied that. She told stories too… but through her voice, softly, behind closed doors where no one could hear.
"Liaaaa."
Her best friend, Mae, dropped her bag beside her with a loud thud. "Are you stalking him again?"
Lia jolted. "W-what? No!"
Mae smirked, peeking over Lia's shoulder to see the hallway. "Mhm. You're in your spy corner. I swear, one day he's going to catch you staring."
"I'm not staring," Lia muttered, cheeks warm. She turned a page in her book she hadn't even started reading.
Mae sat across from her, crossing her legs dramatically. "Why don't you just talk to him? I mean, you're gorgeous, you sing like an angel—"
"Stop," Lia whispered quickly, glancing around as if someone might hear. "He's way out of my league. And I don't… talk to people like him."
Mae tilted her head, softer now. "You talk to me."
"That's different." Lia sighed. "He's confident. I can't even look at him without—"
Her words were cut short by the sound of footsteps approaching. Eli walked past their table, still laughing with his teammates. His scent — fresh and clean, like soap and rain — lingered briefly in the air. Lia froze, her throat tightening.
Eli slowed for half a second, glancing toward their corner. His eyes flicked over the tables — not long enough to be obvious, but just long enough to make Lia's stomach flip.
Then he was gone.
Mae leaned forward with a mischievous grin. "Uh-oh. I think he saw you."
"No, he didn't," Lia whispered, hugging her book closer.
"Oh, he definitely did."
Lia shook her head, trying to focus on the words on the page, but they blurred. If Eli ever knew how often she watched his rehearsals from afar… she'd probably die on the spot.
She didn't know then that later that night, a single accidental tap on her screen would change everything.