In The Backseat

Chapter 13: Crossing Lines

Two days had passed since that night with Calitrope, and I still hadn't had a chance to talk to her. Which was driving me insane. Every time I thought I'd finally gotten a moment alone with her, something—or someone—got in the way. And lately, Calitrope had been more elusive than usual.

The thing is, you can't exactly have an emotionally vulnerable conversation with someone who's barely around. Calitrope had been swallowed up by the semi-finals, practice after practice, plus all the chaos around the upcoming campus event. And, being true to form, she was slipping through every opportunity to help out, ducking behind corners and sneaking away whenever someone from the student council tried to rope her in. She was like a fox in a henhouse, completely undetectable one second and then grinning from the shadows the next.

So when I finally spotted her today, tucked away in an obscure hallway near the gym, I knew this was my chance. She was hiding behind a pillar, watching the student council members roam the area like hawks, clipboards clutched in hand. I approached quietly, so as not to blow her cover, and tapped her on the shoulder.

She jumped, spinning around, her expression turning from surprise to a lazy, relieved smirk when she saw it was me. "Vee," she whispered dramatically, "my hero. Don't suppose you're here to join me in a covert mission to dodge all responsibilities? Help me get out of here."

I bit back a smile, looking around conspiratorially. "What, no nerves for the big semi-final game?"

She shrugged, flashing me that signature grin. "I'll survive the game. It's those volunteer sign-up sheets I'm avoiding. You have no idea the lengths they'll go to get people signed up for this event."

I chuckled, feeling the tension from the past few days ease slightly. But then, before I could lose my nerve, I took a deep breath and stepped closer. "Hey, I actually... wanted to talk to you. About the other night."

Her grin faltered, her expression shifting as she looked at me with a mix of curiosity and something else—something that made my pulse quicken. For a second, I thought I was finally going to get the words out, finally tell her what had been on my mind since that almost-kiss.

But just as her lips parted to speak, we heard a chorus of footsteps and hushed voices. The student council members rounded the corner, clipboard-wielding enforcers on the hunt for volunteer prey. They spotted us, and I swear they honed in on Calitrope like heat-seeking missiles.

"Calitrope!" one of them called out, looking far too delighted to have caught her. "Just the person we were looking for!"

We both turned, and I internally cursed as three student council members marched over to us, their faces stern and determined. Calitrope's jaw clenched, and she gave me a quick, almost pleading look, but there was no escaping them now.

"Oh, perfect, we found you! Just the person we need," one of them said, clapping Calitrope on the shoulder before she could even try to protest. "We've been trying to recruit people for the event all week, and you've been... conveniently missing, let's say."

Calitrope groaned, sending me a look that was half-desperate, half-amused. She opened her mouth to try and dodge, but it was too late—the student council was already closing in.

"Well," she muttered under her breath, "looks like this is it for me. You'll tell my story, won't you, Vee?"

I snorted, doing my best to stifle a laugh. "Only if it's heroic enough for the history books."

One of the council members grabbed her by the arm with a bright, terrifyingly cheerful smile. "Congratulations, Calitrope! You're volunteering for the event!"