The phrase Eating elsewhere is not prohibited echoed in Portia's mind like a bad chorus she couldn't shake.
She lingered just outside the cafeteria doors, fingers tightening around her tray as she drew in a steadying breath. The weight in her chest felt familiar heavy, practiced like she'd worn it long enough to forget what it felt like not to.
With a sigh that slipped out of her like air from a balloon, she pushed the doors open.
Noise crashed over her instantly. Voices, laughter, metal trays scraping, sneakers scuffing. She moved through it all carefully, eyes forward, shoulders squared.
A bead of sweat traced a slow path down her back as she felt eyes on her some sharp, some curious, some pretending not to look at all.
When she spotted an empty seat at her usual table, relief bloomed.
Her lunch waited patiently: tomato soup, bread, chips. Comfort. Routine.
She peeled the lid back and inhaled deeply as steam curled upward, stirring it gently with her spork until the heat softened.
Peace brief, fragile.
Two heavy trays slammed down in front of her.
She startled, looking up to see Langston grinning like he'd just delivered a punchline.
"These are Julian's," he announced loudly. "He's carbo-loading."
Before she could respond, he turned and walked away, tossing, "See you later, Portia," over his shoulder.
She blinked at the trays, then shrugged lightly, shaking her head to herself.
Boys are weird.
She returned to her soup, blissfully unaware of the way Julian watched her from across the room jaw tight, eyes dark.
⸻
Julian hadn't meant to listen.
But when someone said Sadie Hawkins, his attention snapped into place.
"Girls ask the boys," someone laughed. "But if you say no, you can turn around and ask someone else."
Something cold slid into Julian's chest.
"So if she asks you," another voice said, "you can embarrass her right back."
Julian didn't smile.
He watched Portia stir her soup. Watched Langston's trays sit in front of her. Watched the way she didn't question it, didn't make a scene.
She shouldn't have to joke her way through everything, he thought.
And beneath that darker, uglier
If she asks me I won't say no.
The idea rooted itself quietly.
If she asked him, it meant something. It meant she chose him.
And if she didn't
Julian's fingers curled into his palm.
There were other ways to make sure people knew she wasn't just anybody.
⸻
"Sadie Hawkins is gonna be wild," Portia joked later, leaning back in her chair with a soft laugh. "Imagine me asking someone. I'd probably trip on the way over."
The girls around her laughed with her.
Portia smiled, easy and genuine, unaware that across the cafeteria, boys weren't laughing with her but imagining her walking up to them, imagining the power in saying yes or no.
She didn't see the danger.
She never did.
⸻
Kentrell did.
From the line, he saw everything.
The trays.
The stares.
The way Julian's eyes lingered too long.
His jaw tightened as he handed his lunch card to the teacher. Something in him settled not softly, but firmly. A decision clicking into place.
He stepped out of line and stopped a few feet from Portia's table, heart hammering as the noise around him dulled.
"Why are they doing that to her?" he muttered. "Just leave her alone."
He turned, set his tray down at his friends' table with a pointed look watch this then walked back without hesitation.
He grabbed the two trays Langston had left behind, ignoring the startled looks around him, and dumped them cleanly into the trash.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly, leaning close enough that only she could hear. "You don't deserve that."
Before she could respond, before he could second-guess himself, he brushed a brief kiss into her hair gentle, respectful, gone almost as soon as it landed.
Then he stepped back.
Portia stared after him, warmth blooming in her chest, confusion trailing close behind.
Kentrell didn't look back as he returned to his table.
Because he knew something now.
The rule change.
Julian's eyes.
The way people watched her like she was a joke waiting to happen.
I'm not letting this turn into another thing she has to survive, he thought.
If Sadie Hawkins was a game
He would make a move first.
