The music club was unusually empty after practice.
Students had drifted off one by one, their laughter and chatter fading into the afternoon air.
Melissa stayed behind, fingers skimming over the piano keys in a half-hearted melody.
Her mind was a tangled mess of feelings she didn't want to examine too closely.
She didn't hear the door open.
"You always stay late, don't you?"
Melissa jumped, her fingers hitting a wrong note.
It was Alec.
He stood casually by the door, a crooked smile on his lips.
The fading sunlight framed him, making him look almost... unreal.
"I just like it here," Melissa mumbled, eyes fixed on the piano.
Alec wandered over, hands tucked into his pockets.
"You play beautifully," he said, voice softer than she'd ever heard it.
"Even when you're pretending you don't care."
Melissa didn't know what to say. Part of her heart twisted painfully at his words.
Alec moved closer, the piano bench creaking slightly as he sat beside her.
Too close.
She could smell his cologne — sharp and familiar.
"You've been avoiding me," he murmured.
Melissa stiffened.
"I'm just... busy."
"Busy ignoring me?"
He laughed under his breath, not angry, just sad.
His hand brushed hers on the keys, lingering for a second too long.
Melissa's breath caught.
"You used to look at me differently," Alec said. "Like I was someone worth something."
He turned to her then, so close she could see every fleck of gold in his brown eyes.
Melissa's heart hammered painfully in her chest.
Slowly, Alec leaned in, his hand reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ear.
She froze.
The world narrowed to the space between them — thin as a breath.
But just when their lips were a whisper apart, Melissa flinched back, panic rising sharp and cold.
"No," she whispered hoarsely.
Alec's eyes darkened. He pulled back immediately, standing up like he'd been burned.
"You still hate me," he said bitterly.
"I don't—" Melissa started, but he was already walking away.
The door slammed behind him, leaving a heavy silence.
Melissa buried her face in her hands, heart pounding.
"Hey..."
A different voice. Gentle. Hesitant.
Melissa looked up to find Dayne standing there, concern written all over his face.
"I didn't mean to spy," he said quickly. "I just... you looked upset."
Melissa swiped at her eyes, embarrassed.
"I'm fine."
"You're a terrible liar."
Dayne sat down across from her, close enough to offer comfort but far enough to give her space.
He didn't ask questions. He just waited.
After a long moment, Melissa exhaled shakily.
"I don't know what I'm doing," she admitted.
"You're doing the best you can," Dayne said simply.
His gaze was steady, grounding her.
"Sometimes..." he continued, voice quieter, "you need to let someone be there for you."
Melissa blinked rapidly. No one had ever said that to her before.
Tentatively, she reached for his hand. He squeezed it gently.
"Can I ask you something?" Dayne said, his smile a little nervous now.
"Yeah?"
His thumb brushed across the back of her hand.
"Can I kiss you?"
Melissa stared at him, her heart racing.
He wasn't moving in. He wasn't assuming.
He was asking.
Giving her the choice.
Slowly, Melissa nodded.
Dayne leaned forward, giving her time to change her mind.
This time, Melissa closed the distance.
Their lips met — soft, cautious, electric.
It wasn't perfect. It was a little clumsy, a little unsure.
But it was real.
And it was hers.
When they pulled apart, Dayne rested his forehead lightly against hers.
Melissa smiled — small, but real.
Maybe, just maybe, she was learning to trust again.