In this season, the night wind always came with a kind of gentle kindness—cool, clean, slipping under sleeves and lifting the heat off your skin as if it had been waiting all day just to soothe you.
Jaynara Stevens thought about what had happened in the restaurant earlier and couldn't help laughing under her breath.
"Calista had it so rough," she said, amused all over again. "She was only halfway through her steak and her dad called her back for tutoring. I can already see her face—like the whole world betrayed her. That little resentful pout. God, it's hilarious."
Ginevra Volkova walked beside her, listening quietly, letting Jayna's words drift and tumble the way they always did.
The streetlights cast pale pools along the pavement. Their shadows moved in and out of them, stretching long, then shrinking close.
"You haven't even mentioned my reward," Jayna said suddenly, eyes sliding sideways in a cautious little glance. "You know… the condition. The one you promised if I made the top hundred."
"I thought you hadn't decided," Ginevra replied.
Jayna twirled a strand of hair around her fingertip, smiling as if she'd been waiting for this moment. "I decided a long time ago. And don't worry—this one isn't hard. You can definitely do it."
Ginevra looked at her, and a foreboding memory flashed: Jayna forcing her—relentlessly, shamelessly—to call her "big sis" with that teasing, triumphant grin.
Something in Ginevra's face tightened, the faintest warning shadow.
Jayna noticed and immediately protested, bumping her shoulder lightly against Ginevra's. "Oh, don't make that face. What, you think I'm going to eat you alive? I'm not making you call me 'big sis' again. Honestly, it wouldn't have killed you." She pouted dramatically. "And I did treat you to steak today."
Her voice softened into something coaxing, playful. "So here's my condition: there are a bunch of new movies out, right? You take me to the cinema. Just one movie. That's my reward. Deal?"
"A movie?" Ginevra repeated, as if tasting the word.
Jayna nodded eagerly. "Yeah. In a real theater. I heard a few of the new releases are getting great reviews."
Ginevra hadn't expected that.
To be honest, she'd never been to a cinema in her life—not once. It was one of those "normal" things other people did, the kind of thing that seemed to belong to crowds and friendships and casual intimacy. Ginevra had always been… elsewhere. Studying. Training. Moving through life like she wasn't meant to take up too much space.
Jayna knew that. Jayna always knew more than she let on.
"What?" Jayna's voice dipped into something wounded. "You don't want to?"
Ginevra felt a small, reluctant sigh rise in her chest. Compared to being forced to call someone "big sis," this condition was… gentle. Almost harmless.
She nodded as if accepting a fate that could've been worse. "Fine. Whatever you want."
Jayna's eyes lit up so brightly it looked like she'd been waiting her whole life for that answer.
"Good," she declared, suddenly bouncing forward with a lightness that made the night feel warmer. "Saturday. This Saturday. Don't you dare back out—I'll be waiting at home."
"One promise," Ginevra said, calm and precise. "One promise kept."
And just like that, from Wednesday onward, Jayna began counting down to Saturday as if it were a holiday made only for her.
She looked forward to it in a way that startled even herself—more than she'd looked forward to Ms. Harper praising her in class for her sudden improvement, more than the thrill of seeing her name on the honor-board. Jayna even remembered how composed she'd been when Ms. Harper praised her, how she'd said, almost too casually, that it was "all Ginevra's credit."
And after that, something strange happened.
People started going to Ginevra.
At first it was small—someone asking a question here, someone hovering with a worksheet there. Then it grew. Even if they got brushed off, even if Ginevra's replies were short and cold, they still came. Her name carried a kind of gravity now.
So much so that even Class Two's president had started circling.
By Friday afternoon, Jayna came back to her seat wearing the kind of expression that was almost sweet—almost—but not quite.
"Ginevra," she said slowly, each word carefully placed like a pin. "You're getting popular."
Ginevra rested her head on one hand and kept reading, as if she hadn't heard.
Jayna kept going anyway, tone growing more pointed with every syllable. "Rory Bennett from Class Two asked me to pass a message. She wants to add your contact. She wants to know if you're going to the school library on Saturday to study… together."
She emphasized the last word so hard it practically squeaked.
Because wasn't Rory the same girl who'd once looked at Ginevra like she was something terrifying? How convenient—how flexible—her opinion had become now that grades were involved.
Ginevra didn't look up.
Jayna's fingers tightened around the strap of her bag. "Well? Say something. Your dear Rory is waiting for an answer."
Dear?The word rang unpleasantly in Ginevra's ear.
She finally lifted her eyes, cool and flat, and looked at Jayna. "No time."
Jayna's mouth curved. "No time on Saturday either? Then what are you doing Saturday?"
"Don't play dumb," Ginevra said.
Jayna's smile almost spilled over. She could feel her own mood turning bright and buoyant in her chest. She kept pretending to be casual, but her eyes were shiny with satisfaction. "Okay, okay. Then what about her wanting your contact?"
"Annoying," Ginevra replied, and the irritation in her expression was real. "Stop bothering me."
"Fine, fine," Jayna said, holding up both hands as if surrendering. "My bad, My bad. I won't disturb you. Keep reading."
But she was smiling as she said it—smiling the way someone does when they've been given exactly what they wanted.
Annoying.Adding someone else was annoying.
Good. That was… good.
…
"So I told her," Jayna said later, trying to sound apologetic as she stood with Rory Bennett. "That's basically the message."
Jayna had… polished Ginevra's exact wording, of course. She couldn't exactly repeat "annoying" verbatim. That would make Ginevra sound too sharp, too merciless. Jayna didn't want Rory to walk away angry enough to start trouble.
Rory's disappointment was plain. "I'm seven points behind her," she admitted, not hiding the frustration. "And I really respect her. She doesn't even go to tutoring. She studies alone and still stays ahead." Rory glanced at Jayna with something like envy. "You two seem close. I'm honestly jealous."
Jayna smiled faintly, not quite sure what to say.
Close.Were they?
Ginevra was exceptional to an almost unreasonable degree. It made sense that other strong students would orbit her. Maybe that was just what happened—maybe excellence pulled excellence the way the moon pulled tides.
And yet Jayna still couldn't help the strange feeling in her stomach when she watched Rory ask these questions so calmly.
"I'm curious," Rory said, eyes brightening again. "One quick. Will you tell me?"
"What?" Jayna asked warily.
"What does Ginevra like?" Rory leaned in a little, smiling. "Besides studying. What does she enjoy?"
Jayna went blank.
She thought for a moment—hard.
And then she realized, with a small internal stumble, that she truly didn't know.
"I… don't think I know," Jayna admitted, embarrassed.
Rory sighed, still smiling, but with a practical edge. "Too bad. I thought you might. It would've helped—if I could appeal to her interests, get closer. Next time, then."
Appeal to her interests.Get closer.
Jayna watched Rory walk away and silently stamped a bright red label in her mind: Danger. A-plus manipulator.
Ginevra was too straightforward. Too blunt. Too… honest in the way she moved through the world. People like Rory could wrap that kind of person around their finger if they wanted to.
Jayna decided then and there: she would keep Ginevra away from Rory Bennett.
No matter how ridiculous that sounded, even to herself.
…
When Jayna returned to the classroom, she stared at the emptiness and yelped.
"Oh my God—everyone's gone!"
"I'm not a person?" Ginevra asked, without looking up.
Jayna forced a smile. Sometimes Ginevra latched onto the smallest technicality like a dog with a bone. "You know what I mean."
She stuffed books into her bag, trying to look casual. "I delivered the message. You don't have to thank me."
There was a faint, unspoken jealousy tucked into her tone. Jayna didn't fully understand it—didn't fully like it—yet it was there.
"Turn off the light," Ginevra reminded.
Jayna was last out, so she reached back and snapped the switch off with a dramatic click.
They stepped into the dim corridor.
"Hey, Giny," Jayna said suddenly, remembering Rory's question. "I want to ask you something."
Ginevra turned her head slightly, looking at her.
Jayna met those beautiful, cool eyes—and for a second, a reckless question rose like a tide inside her.
Do you like anything?Or… do you like someone?
She stared too long.
"Hey," Ginevra called, flatly. Jayna was zoning out again.
Jayna startled and laughed too quickly. "Ah—nothing. I just wanted to ask… have you picked the movie yet?"
Ginevra answered honestly. "Not yet. I'll choose tonight."
Jayna patted her shoulder with exaggerated solemnity. "Then I'm entrusting this vital mission to you, Miss Volkova. Complete it with utmost seriousness."
Ginevra gave her a look that was faintly resigned.
A cinema. Her first time.
…
When Ginevra got home, Little Raindrop came trotting up with small whines, circling her ankles like a fluffy, determined comet.
The puppy—once no bigger than a palm—had grown a bit. It tugged one of Ginevra's slippers out with surprising skill and dropped it at her feet, eyes sharp with that uncanny canine intelligence. Mr. Volkova had said the dog looked like a border collie mix, judging by its build.
Ginevra crouched down and rubbed Little Raindrop's head, fingers sinking into the soft black tuft between its ears.
"Your other master wants to go to the movies tomorrow," she murmured, not quite realizing she was speaking aloud. "Any recommendations?"
Little Raindrop tilted its head, puzzled in a way that made Ginevra's mouth twitch—almost a smile.
Later, she opened her laptop and searched for the newest releases. Comedy. Action. Horror.
She thought about Jayna.
Jayna probably liked comedies. Jayna liked warmth. Laughter. Things that made the world feel less heavy.
Ginevra clicked the top two comedy films and quietly did her homework.
…
Saturday arrived under clean sunlight.
The kind that made everything look newly washed.
Ginevra showed up twenty minutes early at the agreed meeting spot—the west entrance of the plaza on West Street—standing still as people streamed past in bright weekend clothes, shopping bags swinging, conversations rising and falling around her.
Then Jayna arrived.
She stepped out of the car with a small leather purse and a plaid dress that made her look too polished for a student. She waved goodbye to Mr. Carter, her driver, and moved with a contained excitement—as if her whole body was trying not to skip.
She'd curled her hair too. The kind of curls that were meant to last only a day, but made you look as if you'd done something special on purpose.
The street was crowded with weekend traffic. Jayna tiptoed slightly as she searched the crowd, eyes scanning until she found her.
There.
Ginevra stood outside a cafe—"Dome Cafe," the sign read—wearing a pale blue hooded sweatshirt and black fitted pants. Her hair was tied into a half-bun, half-down style that looked oddly effortless. She held two drinks.
And—most startling of all—
She wasn't wearing glasses.
Her skin, naturally cool and pale, had flushed slightly under the sun. She stood there with a kind of blank patience, quietly striking: cool and sharp, yet somehow… adorable in her stillness.
Jayna's heart did something stupid.
She walked up behind Ginevra and grinned. "Hey," she said, lowering her voice into a flirt, "beautiful. Could I get your number?"
Ginevra turned, and Jayna winked.
Without comment, Ginevra handed her one of the drinks.
Jayna took it slowly, then stared at Ginevra as if she couldn't help herself. She looked her up and down, then fixed her gaze on Ginevra's eyes—those eyes, unobstructed and painfully pretty.
"You wore contacts," Jayna accused, pouting for effect. "And you dressed like this on purpose. Why are you prettier than me today?"
Ginevra looked honestly confused. "My frames were loose. I took them in to get fixed. So I had to wear lens."
Jayna ignored the explanation on purpose, holding her drink like a shield against her own fluster. "I saw you from a mile away. I was honestly scared someone would take a photo of you—those street-photography people."
"Street photography?" Ginevra repeated, eyebrows lifting. She clearly didn't understand.
Jayna waved it off. "Forget it. They take pictures of pretty people."
"Then they'd take pictures of you," Ginevra said, sipping her coffee, utterly serious.
Jayna nearly choked on her own happiness.
Inside her chest, dozens of tiny flowers seemed to burst open at once.
She took a sip of her drink—cold cocoa. Sweet, smooth, not cloying. "I thought this was coffee," she said, pleased. "This is really good. What are you drinking?"
Ginevra's eyes softened slightly as they rested on her. "Meteor Black."
Jayna stared at the dark cup in Ginevra's hand with horror. No matter how fancy the name sounded, it was still the bitterest kind of black coffee.
"How do you even drink that?" Jayna muttered, then took another determined sip of her cocoa, as if reaffirming her allegiance to sweetness.
She glanced toward the crosswalk and gestured. "Come on. Let's cross."
Jayna knew this area well. She came here often. Ginevra, on the other hand, looked subtly restrained—as if the busy street and the crowds made her more aware of her own body than she liked.
Jayna felt a sudden softness in her chest.
Crossing the street should be hand-in-hand, she told herself, conveniently. It's safer.
She reached out—almost—
Then stopped.
The courage didn't quite make it all the way to fingers interlacing.
Instead, she hooked her fingers lightly around Ginevra's wrist.
It was pathetic.
But it was something.
At the red light, Jayna adjusted her purse strap and shifted it crossbody so it wouldn't slip. Ginevra gently slid her wrist free—not because she was rejecting Jayna, but because she took the cocoa from Jayna's hand with quiet thoughtfulness, placing it into the paper bag she was already holding.
Jayna didn't see that.
All she felt was the loss.
Her heart dipped, stupidly, sharply.
She let go.
And then—
In the very next moment, Ginevra's hand found hers and clasped it.
Firm.
Steady.
Not hurried. Not reluctant.
Jayna looked down at their hands as if she'd been given something sacred. Heat rushed into her cheeks immediately. She blinked fast, too fast, and didn't dare look up, terrified that if she saw Ginevra's face she'd fall apart.
She didn't know if Ginevra's heart was racing too.
She didn't know if Ginevra felt anything at all.
But Jayna's own heartbeat was loud enough to fill her ears.
Does this count as our first date?It does, doesn't it?
She even caught whispers behind them—soft voices saying someone up ahead looked elegant, beautiful, striking.
Jayna didn't know if they meant her or Ginevra.
She pressed her lips together and smiled as if she hadn't heard.
"Why are you smiling?" Ginevra asked, genuinely puzzled.
Jayna quickly pointed at the green light as if that explained everything. "Come on," she said, pulling gently.
The crosswalk was crowded, the green light long. Ahead of them, an elderly man hunched over a cane shuffled forward, slow and trembling. He looked as though a single bump from a passing shoulder could knock him down and leave him unable to rise.
Jayna's sympathy flared instantly.
She hurried forward and reached for him. "Sir—there are a lot of people. Let me help you across."
The man looked up, delighted—as if luck itself had placed a young, pretty girl in his path.
He took Jayna's hand and moved even more slowly than before.
Jayna didn't notice at first—too focused on getting him safely to the other side—that his fingers were rubbing at the back of her hand in a way that had nothing to do with support. His eyes narrowed with a quiet, ugly amusement.
When his fingertips began to creep, searching—
His hand was yanked back.
Hard.
The old man startled and turned, meeting a pair of eyes that were smiling—but cold enough to make his blood turn over.
"Sir," Ginevra said smoothly, stepping in front of Jayna and forcing Jayna to shift aside, "I'll help you."
Jayna blinked, confused, but the street was still full of people and noise, and she didn't want to cause a scene. So she walked beside them, silent, watching.
The man was thrilled at first—another beautiful girl, even better—but within seconds, pain flared at his wrist.
He jerked away with a sharp intake of breath.
"You—!" he barked, suddenly straightening up.
Jayna's eyes widened.
He wasn't hunched at all.
He was faking it.
He raised a finger, ready to curse her out—
But Ginevra stepped closer, her gaze narrowing, voice quiet and deadly calm.
"Touching," she said, each word measured. "And getting addicted to it."
The man's face twitched.
Something in Ginevra's eyes made him uneasy—made his neck prickle, made sweat rise where there shouldn't have been any.
He stumbled backward, spat to the side, and fled toward the storefronts before anyone could gather and watch.
Ginevra stood there, breathing slowly, as if holding something back. Her jaw clenched once. She didn't move to chase him.
She didn't do what she wanted to do.
Jayna stared after the man, her brain catching up a full second too late.
"That… that old guy was pretending?!" she gasped. "He was faking all of it!"
Ginevra glanced at her, face still tight with displeasure. "Wash your hands later."
Then, without waiting, she turned and walked straight into the cinema.
Jayna stood there for a moment, still stunned—and, oddly, stung.
Ginevra's tone had been sharp. Almost scolding.
Jayna didn't fully understand why.
But she nodded anyway, swallowing her confusion, and hurried after her.