Lena's pov
The soft glow of string lights wrapped around the dorm lounge, casting everything in a warm, golden haze. The prom was in full swing around us—laughter, music, the shuffle of feet on the floor. But here, near the edge of the room, it felt like the world had shrunk down to just Ethan and me.
I swallowed hard, heart pounding louder than the steady beat of the slow song playing over the speakers.
"I… don't really know how to dance," I admitted, cheeks burning with embarrassment. My voice sounded smaller than I wanted it to.
Ethan's laugh was low and genuine, the kind that made warmth spread through my chest despite the knot of nerves tightening there. "Seriously? You're going to prom with me and you don't know how to dance?"
I forced a laugh, trying to hide how exposed I felt. "Guess I'm a little behind on the whole 'slow dance' thing."
He stepped closer, and I caught a faint scent of his cologne—something fresh and comforting. His hand reached out, fingers brushing mine. "Then it's a good thing I'm a great teacher."
I hesitated, breath catching in my throat. His hand was warm, steady. I should pull away—keep the distance. But instead, I slipped my hand into his.
He guided me gently toward the center of the room, the noise of the party dulling to a hum in the background. His other hand settled lightly on my waist, grounding me more than I expected.
"Just follow my lead," he said softly.
My eyes flicked up to his, searching for any hint of mockery or doubt. But all I found was patience and a quiet encouragement that made my defenses waver.
The music shifted, a slow, rhythmic melody that felt like it was made for moments like this.
I tried to focus on the steps, on matching his movements. It wasn't perfect, but it was enough.
Closer now, I could feel his heartbeat, steady and sure beneath my palm. I swallowed hard, trying to push the rush of heat from my cheeks.
Don't fall for this, my mind screamed. It's just a mission. He's your fake boyfriend.
But then his eyes held mine longer than necessary, a softness that wasn't part of the script.
My breath hitched.
Every nerve screamed in warning as my walls started to crumble, just a little.
For a split second, the line between pretense and something real blurred.
I wanted to believe it was nothing — a simple dance, a moment to get through.
But the way his fingers curled just a bit tighter around my waist, the way his eyes searched mine like he was trying to understand something unspoken… it was dangerously close to something more.
My heart betrayed me, beating wildly in my chest.
I took a shaky breath and forced myself to pull back slightly, creating the smallest space between us.
"It's just a dance," I whispered. "Just a mission."
His smile faltered, and for a heartbeat, I thought he might say something that would make me lose control.
But instead, he nodded, understanding—or maybe pretending to.
The music ended, and applause rippled through the room, pulling us back to reality.
As we stepped apart, I fought the urge to look back, to linger in that moment just a little longer.
I told myself firmly: Don't fall. Not now. Not ever.
Because in this game, letting down your guard could cost everything.