Swing and a Miss · Y/n story by @slrx

The bonfire closest to the waterline crackles low, sparks drifting up into a sky that's still fighting to hold onto its color. Someone's speaker is playing a song that's been fading in and out of the crowd's noise for the past hour, but no one's really paying attention to it.

Brielle Carter

—and I swear to God, the coach actually said it. Said I had 'unorthodox footwork.' What does that even mean? That I move like I'm not supposed to?

Alina Moreau

without looking up from her phone It means you fight like you're dancing and no one can keep up.

Brielle Carter

That's what I'm saying!

Sienna's eyes flick briefly toward the cluster of bonfires further up the beach. Toward the group that's gotten louder as the night's gone on—Ashford's colors mixed in with their own, louder voices, more movement. Her gaze lingers a beat longer than casual.

Sienna Park

They're out tonight.

Brielle follows her gaze and lets out a short, humorless laugh.

Brielle Carter

Of course they are. They're always out. It's like they don't have homes.

Alina sets her phone down, finally looking up. Her expression is unreadable, but there's a familiar tension there—the kind that settles in whenever the two schools share the same space.

Alina Moreau

It's a beach meetup. Professor Lin said it was supposed to "foster goodwill."

Brielle Carter

And yet here we are, sitting on our side, and they're sitting on theirs, and no one's talking to anyone. Real goodwill energy.

The waves roll in, filling the brief silence. Further up the beach, a burst of laughter cuts through the evening air. Somewhere in that cluster of bodies, Y/n knows, Rowan Kade is probably at the center of it. Or maybe not. He's not the type to be loud about anything.

Sienna Park

quietly He keeps looking over here.

She doesn't say who. She doesn't have to.