It had rained that morning. The pavement still held the dampness in its cracks, darkening the edges of the sidewalk. Skylar stepped over a puddle outside the school, her reflection rippling in the water — distorted, fractured, almost symbolic.
Inside, her chest was steady for once.
Lila had texted her at 7 a.m.:
"They printed your mural in the community paper. You're a literal front-page rebel now."
She hadn't known what to do with that. She'd stared at the image for a long time. The photo showed her and Jamie, mid-laugh, paint on their faces and streaks of bold red behind them. She looked… alive.
Later, when Jamie found her at lunch under the staircase — their usual quiet spot — he didn't sit right away. He just leaned against the wall, watching her like she was part of some unfolding mystery.
"You look different," he said finally.
Skylar raised a brow. "That's vague."
"Not like your face. Just… your energy." He shifted, slid down beside her. "More fire. Less fog."
She smirked. "Sounds poetic."
Jamie reached into his bag and pulled something out. It was a small black notebook — leather-bound, frayed at the corners.
He handed it to her.
"What's this?"
"Mine. Well, it was." He nudged it toward her. "Now it's yours. Open it."
She flipped the cover. Inside were pages of sketches — raw, emotional, messy in a beautiful way. Faces half-finished. Phrases in the margins. One read:
"What if we're all just unfinished art, waiting for someone to trace the rest?"
Her breath caught.
"I used to draw when things got too loud," he said quietly. "Before I ever talked to you, you were in there. Bits and pieces. Shadow shapes I didn't have words for yet."
Skylar looked up at him, blinking. "This is the part where a normal person gets shy and runs away."
Jamie grinned. "Good thing I'm not normal."
She turned another page. It was her, unmistakably — slouched at her locker, hair in her face, hoodie hiding half of her. But the expression… it was gentle. Curious. Watching the world like it held secrets.
"You saw me," she whispered.
"Yeah," he said. "Way before anyone else did."
The moment cracked with emotion, heavy and warm. And then—
His phone buzzed.
He pulled it out, glanced, frowned, then looked at her. "So… this might be a little fast, but… my brother's band is playing tonight. Downtown. Tiny place. I was gonna go solo but…" He met her eyes. "Wanna come with me?"
Skylar blinked. "Like a date?"
He paused, then smiled carefully. "Only if you want it to be."
She hesitated. Not because she didn't want to — she did. But this was new territory. Crowds. Expectations. Being seen, not just as herself, but as someone standing next to someone else.
That used to terrify her.
But now?
"Yeah," she said. "I want it to be."
Jamie's face lit up in a way that made her heart stumble. He bumped her knee. "Cool. I'll pick you up at seven."
As he walked away, she held the sketchbook to her chest, pulse racing. She could feel it again — that dangerous, thrilling thing creeping into her bones.
Part 2 – The Night They Stopped Hiding
The old clock in the hallway ticked louder than usual as Skylar stood in front of her mirror, holding her breath.
It wasn't just about what she wore — black jeans, a cropped sweatshirt layered under her leather jacket, and a thin silver chain Lila had insisted she borrow — it was about how she looked at herself.
For the first time in years, she didn't hate the girl in the reflection.
Nervous? Yes.
But ashamed? No.
The doorbell rang at exactly 7:03.
Skylar bounded down the stairs before her mom could answer it. "I got it!"
Her mom peeked over the edge of the couch, giving her that look — the one laced with unspoken worry and motherly suspicion. "This the boy from the mural?"
Skylar nodded. "Yeah."
There was a pause. Then: "Be smart."
"I will."
She opened the door to find Jamie standing there in a dark blue jacket, band shirt underneath, and his hair slightly damp from the fog that clung to the late-spring evening. He looked up — and the way his eyes skimmed her face before landing on her necklace made her pulse thrum.
"You look…" he faltered, then tried again. "Wow."
She raised an eyebrow. "Good wow or overwhelming wow?"
"Very good wow."
She smiled and stepped out, pulling the door shut behind her.
The drive downtown was quiet but easy. Jamie's playlist played softly — moody alt-rock with lyrics that were just cryptic enough to feel personal. She watched the blur of streetlights pass by and tried not to overthink how her hand kept inching closer to his on the center console.
When they reached the venue — a low-lit, grungy little corner spot with old concert posters peeling off the front — Skylar hesitated. It was already half full. Smoke and laughter spilled from the open doors. Everyone looked like they belonged.
Except maybe her.
Jamie must've sensed it because he turned to her just as she paused.
"Want to go in the back way?" he offered. "Skip the crowd?"
Skylar glanced at him, surprised. "You do that often?"
He gave her a lazy smirk. "Only when I like the girl I'm with."
She laughed, nerves easing. "Let's go in the front. I want to try."
Inside, the air was thick with bass and beer and anticipation. The walls vibrated with soundcheck hums. People swayed in groups, talked over the music, bumped shoulders like it was part of the rhythm. Skylar stayed close to Jamie, his hand brushing hers in a steady pulse.
They found a spot near the side of the stage — enough space to breathe, but close enough to feel the vibrations in their bones.
"I've never done anything like this," she murmured.
"You're doing it now."
He looked at her then — really looked — and she didn't shrink under it. If anything, she rose into the moment. With each thump of music, her fear dulled. Something louder, more daring, took its place.
The lights dimmed. The band took the stage.
Cheers erupted.
Jamie leaned close, mouth near her ear to be heard over the swell. "That's my brother on guitar."
She turned and shouted back, "The tall one?"
He nodded.
"Hot."
Jamie choked on a laugh, elbowing her playfully. "Rude."
The music started — fast, gritty, full of heart. Skylar found herself swaying to it, letting go more with each song. She even laughed when Jamie sang the wrong lyrics on purpose in her ear, just to make her smile.
And then it happened.
Someone snapped a photo.
Not just of the band. But of them. Together.
Jamie's arm was around her shoulder. Her head tilted toward him. The kind of photo people share with the caption: "Didn't expect this couple, but I'm here for it."
She tensed… just a little.
Jamie noticed instantly. "Hey. You okay?"
She looked up at him. In the glow of stage lights, his expression wasn't cocky or careless. It was careful. Honest.
"I'm not used to being seen like this," she said.
"You don't have to be perfect," he replied. "Just real."
There was something about the way he said it — no pressure, no demand, just permission — that made her reach for his hand.
And this time, she didn't let go.
They stayed like that for the rest of the show — hand in hand, two shadows carved in light, learning how to be visible together.
Hope.