ELLE'S POV
"You're never going to believe who else is in this ridiculous competition," Steven said, leaning against the hallway wall with that same easy confidence he'd always had.
I blinked in surprise. "Wait, what? You're competing too?"
His familiar laugh echoed through the corridor. "Small world, right? Central High's star pianist versus Westlake's vocal sensation."
"I wouldn't call myself a sensation," I mumbled, but couldn't help the smile that tugged at my lips. It was surreal seeing Steven again after all these years—like a character from a different chapter of my life had suddenly wandered into the present.
"Always so modest." He shook his head. "Some things never change, Elle Willsmith."
We fell into step together, the awkwardness of our reunion yesterday melting into the comfortable rhythm of old friendship. Steven had filled out since fourth grade—no longer the skinny boy with perpetually scraped knees, but tall and broad-shouldered with a jawline that could cut glass.
"So, you're the reconnaissance mission?" I asked, nudging his arm with my elbow. "Scoping out the competition?"
"Busted." He held up his hands in surrender. "I told my teacher I wanted to check out the venue. Really, I just wanted to see if it was actually you I ran into yesterday."
"How long has it been? Six years?"
"Seven," he corrected. "Since you moved away without saying goodbye."
Guilt pricked at me. "It wasn't exactly planned. After Dad died, Mom just... needed to leave."
Steven's expression softened. "I know. I'm sorry about your dad. He was cool."
My stomach chose that moment to growl loudly. I hadn't eaten since breakfast, too nervous about the competition announcement to manage food.
Steven's eyebrows shot up. "Was that a stomach or a small earthquake?"
"Shut up," I mumbled, heat rising to my cheeks.
"Where's your cafeteria? I'm starving too, and we have a lot of catching up to do."
I hesitated. The cafeteria meant the potential for Noah sightings, for Benita and her crew, for all the social landmines I typically tried to avoid. But Steven was looking at me expectantly, and the familiar ease between us made me braver.
"This way," I said, gesturing down the hall. "Fair warning, though—our lunch options make prison food look gourmet."
"I'll take my chances."
We rounded the corner to the cafeteria, pushing through the double doors together. The usual buzz of conversation dropped to a hush as we entered, dozens of heads turning in our direction.
"Wow," Steven whispered. "Is it always like this when you walk in?"
I shook my head slightly. "They're looking at you, not me."
He frowned, but before he could respond, the whispers started. I caught fragments as we moved toward the lunch line—"Who's that with Fluffy?" and "How does she know him?" and "Must be lost."
Steven didn't seem to notice, busy examining the lunch options with exaggerated disgust. "You weren't kidding about the food. Is that supposed to be lasagna or tire rubber?"
I tried to laugh, but it came out strained. The weight of the stares pressed down on me like a physical force. I could feel my shoulders hunching forward, my body instinctively trying to make itself smaller.
"Hey," Steven's voice dropped, concern etching lines between his brows. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," I lied, forcing a smile as I grabbed a tray. "Just hungry."
He didn't look convinced but didn't push it. We collected our food—pizza for him, a salad for me—and headed toward an empty table near the window.
"So," Steven said once we were seated, "tell me everything I've missed. Famous yet? Dating a rock star? Solved world hunger?"
The absurdity of his questions pulled a genuine laugh from me. "Yes to all three. I'm incredibly modest about it though."
"I knew it." He took a dramatic bite of pizza. "Seriously though, what's life like at DE-Fountain? Any cute boys I should be jealous of?"
My mind flashed to Noah, his hands on the piano keys, his almost-kiss, his arm around another girl's waist, and I quickly pushed the thought away.
"The music program is good," I said instead. "That's pretty much all that matters."
Steven leaned forward, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "You know what I remember most about you in fourth grade? How you'd sing to yourself when you thought no one was listening. During recess, in the art room. You had this little tune you'd always hum."
I stared at him, shocked that he remembered. "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star with variations. My mom taught me."
"You were always meant for this, Elle." There was no teasing in his voice now, just sincerity. "I'm not surprised you're in this competition. I'm just surprised it took this long."
Something warm unfurled in my chest. For a moment, I forgot about the cafeteria, about the watching eyes, and everything else.
Then a familiar voice cut through our bubble.
"Who do we have here with you, Elle?"
Benita stood at the end of our table, arms folded across her chest, a coterie of her friends flanking her like backup dancers. She wore a smile that didn't reach her eyes as she looked Steven up and down with undisguised interest.
"Don't think we've met," she purred, extending a manicured hand. "I'm Benita."
Steven glanced at her hand but didn't take it. "Steven," he replied simply, turning back to me. "Friend of yours, Elle?"
I opened my mouth to respond—to say absolutely not—but Benita beat me to it.
"Elle and I go way back," she said with artificial sweetness. "Don't we, Fluffy?"
Steven's eyebrows rose. "Fluffy?"
"It's just a silly nickname," Benita waved dismissively, her voice dripping with mock affection. "Because she's so..." She gestured vaguely at me, "...you know."
The cafeteria had gone quiet again, everyone watching the drama unfold. I stared at my salad, appetite completely gone, shame burning my cheeks.
"Actually," Steven said slowly, "I don't know."
Benita laughed, the sound sharp and mean. "Well, just look at her. She's fat."
The word hung in the air like a slap. I kept my eyes down, wishing I could disappear, wishing I'd never agreed to lunch in the cafeteria.
"What?" Steven's voice went dangerously quiet. He turned to me, genuine confusion in his eyes. "Elle?"
I couldn't look at him. Couldn't bear to see pity or worse, agreement in his expression. Seven years was a long time. The scrawny, confident girl he'd known in fourth grade was long gone, replaced by someone who couldn't even defend herself against Benita's taunts.
Then something unexpected happened. Steven stood up, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. For one horrible moment, I thought he was leaving me to Benita's mercy. Instead, he moved to my side of the table and slid onto the bench next to me, his arm draping casually but protectively around my shoulders.
"I think I figured out the problem," he said, voice loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. "You're confused about what the word 'fat' means. Probably because your brain is so small."
Gasps rippled through the cafeteria. Benita's perfect face froze in shock.
"Who are you to her?" she demanded, eyes darting between us.
"What do you think?" Steven replied with a smirk that would have made Noah proud. His arm tightened around me, pulling me closer to his side. "Elle is very, very special to me," Steven said simply, his gaze never leaving Benita's face. "Always has been."
Then he offered me his hand, and I took it. The whispers erupted immediately, sweeping through the cafeteria like wildfire. I could practically see the conclusion forming in everyone's minds: Steven was my boyfriend. The gorgeous new guy was dating Fluffy Elle.