Chapter Five

Julie Vaz

I could feel it in my bones.

It had been a day since Alexander Carter and I were paired together for the final project, and somehow, somehow, we had survived the first awkward meeting, the first set of “research” sessions that neither of us had actually taken seriously, and a whole lot of tense silence. We hadn’t killed each other yet, but we hadn’t exactly become friends, either. It was like we were stuck in this weird, unspoken standoff where neither of us was willing to back down, but neither of us was willing to fully engage either.

But today felt different. It was like the universe had decided it was time for something to finally shift between us—whether I was ready for it or not.

I could blame the weather. It was one of those crisp, almost-perfect spring days that made the city feel alive, like anything was possible. The sun hung high in the sky, casting long shadows against the city’s towering buildings. The kind of day that made you think you could achieve anything, if only you could summon the courage to take that first step.

The problem was, I had way too many things on my mind already.

Today, I was going to hear from NYU.

I’d checked my email five times that morning, and each time, my heart did that weird skipping thing. Every time, it was just a new message about class schedules or some minor deadline I had to remember. But none of them were the email I was waiting for.

I had promised myself that I wouldn’t think about it during school. That I wouldn’t let the possibility of rejection or acceptance cloud my head. After all, today was just another day. My last Monday of high school had come and gone, and I had survived it.

But the truth was, that email was hanging over me like a shadow. It was always there, just out of reach.

As I walked into the library for our study session which I was beginning to suspect was just an excuse to not do actual work, I saw him.

Alexander Carter was already there. He was sitting at a table near the back, looking, as usual, like he had just stepped out of a magazine ad—his hair a little too perfect, his posture a little too confident. He was flipping through a book, but the second he noticed me, he set it down, his blue eyes locking onto mine.

I froze. Was this it? Was this where the game shifted?

The space between us felt charged, even though neither of us had said a word yet. The air was thick with the awkwardness of what had come before: our terrible first meeting at Blake Thompson’s party, the sarcastic exchanges during our early research, the moments of cold silence when we had to be in the same room but couldn’t find anything else to talk about.

“Vaz,” he said, his voice smooth as silk, his usual condescending tone buried beneath something... I wasn’t sure what.

“Carter,” I said, trying to keep it casual, but my heart was pounding in my chest. God, just focus on the work. Don’t let him throw you off.

I took a deep breath and forced myself to sit down across from him. My palms were sweating, and I was sure my nerves were written all over my face, but I wasn’t going to let him see that. I was here to get through this, to finish this project, to prove to myself that I could do this—work with someone like him and survive.

It had nothing to do with the fact that the way he said my name made my heart race or that his presence had started to feel too familiar in the strangest way. That was irrelevant.

We were just here to work.

Right?

“Did you read the article I sent you?” I asked, opening my laptop and trying to focus on the task at hand.

He shrugged, clearly unfazed. “Not yet. But I did glance at it. I’m sure it’s fine.”

That was so him. His “I don’t need to actually work hard to succeed” attitude that had always rubbed me the wrong way.

“Fine? You can’t just look at it and say it’s fine. We need specifics for this paper, remember? It’s not like we’re writing a five-paragraph essay for history.”

He gave me an unreadable look before running a hand through his hair. “You’re overthinking this. It’s a project. Not the end of the world.”

I opened my mouth to retort, but before I could, a familiar sound—the ding of my phone—cut through the tension. Without even thinking, I grabbed it.

I almost didn’t want to look. But the moment I saw the subject line—NYU Application Status—I knew.

I clicked the email open, my fingers trembling. My stomach was in knots, my head spinning. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t care so much about this. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t let this one thing define me.

But now, staring at the words in front of me, I couldn’t ignore it.

Congratulations, Julie! We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into the English program at NYU.

I blinked. I read it again. And then, I blinked a third time.

I couldn’t believe it.

I was in.

Tears sprang to my eyes, but I swallowed them down. Not here. Not now. Stay composed. You worked for this.

For a moment, I just stared at the screen. The future I had dreamed of—was real. It was happening. I could almost hear the roaring applause in my head.

And then, just like that, I remembered: I wasn’t alone in this room.

I looked up, and there was Alexander, watching me with an expression I couldn’t quite place. His usual aloofness was gone, replaced by something else. Something that almost seemed like curiosity—or maybe it was recognition.

“You got in, didn’t you?” he said quietly.

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

“I knew you would,” he said, the words soft but surprising.

I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I just stared at him, unsure whether I should be thanking him or if I was just imagining the change in him.

We both sat there in silence for a few moments, the weight of the moment hanging between us.

I wasn’t sure when it happened, but as the silence stretched on, I realized something. This—this complicated, uncomfortable, sometimes infuriating dynamic between us—was shifting. In some strange way, Alexander Carter and I had both just been given the same kind of gift: a way out of the cage we had created for ourselves. He had his own barriers—his own walls that seemed to keep everyone at a distance—and I had mine. But now... now we were forced to confront them.

Maybe that was why, for the first time, the tension between us felt a little less uncomfortable. Maybe because, in this one moment, it wasn’t about who was popular, who was smart, or who was the best at playing the game. Maybe we were both just people, standing on the edge of the same kind of change.

“Do you want to celebrate?” Alexander asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

I blinked. “What?”

He raised an eyebrow. “I said, do you want to celebrate? You know, now that you’re officially going to NYU. You’ll be too busy for this next year.”

I didn’t know how to respond. But something in his voice made me realize I was no longer just working with the arrogant, untouchable soccer player. He was asking me—genuinely asking me—to do something. To acknowledge that we were no longer enemies, but maybe... something else.

I swallowed, my heart beating faster than I wanted to admit. “Sure. I’d like that.”

And for the first time in two weeks, I smiled at him—really smiled.

Maybe this project wasn’t going to be such a disaster after all.