Page 27 of Broken Rivalry

Eva’s door is ajar, and as I peek inside, my eyes lock on a violin resting in an open case. My curiosity piqued, I step closer, eyes scanning the newspaper articles taped inside the case. “Evangeline Sinclair, the Violin Prodigy,” one headline reads. I lean in to read more: “Our town prodigy heading to Juilliard…”

“What are you doing here?” Eva’s voice, usually so gentle, now sharp and defensive, startles me.

I spin around, hand instinctively clutching my chest. “Eva, I—”

She frowns, closing the violin case with a snap. “Why are you touching this?”

“I didn’t, I swear.” My hands rise defensively. “The door was open, and the violin was there on the bed.” I try to ease the tension. “I didn’t know you played.”

Her eyes, darting to the closet, then back to me, soften. “That’s fine.” She sighs, placing the case back into her wardrobe. “Need something?”

I blink, the unexpected revelation about Eva momentarily derailing my thoughts. “Yeah, I…” My words trail off as I attempt to regain my composure. “Ethan asked me to the varsity ball.”

Eva’s eyebrows lift slightly, her previous defensiveness fading into curiosity. “Okay… and do you want to go? I thought we hated him,” she adds, trying to ease some of the remaining tension.

Do we? Did we ever? I used to be supremely annoyed with Ethan, yes, but I didn’t hate him, not until my last day of school. I did the walk of shame, searching for friends who now shunned me, and I caught Ethan’s eye, almost pleading. His response? A laugh.

I shrug, my gaze dropping to the floor as I wrestle with the conflicting emotions inside me. “He offered for me to bring my friends too. Said he’d buy us all dresses.”

Eva tilts her head, studying me. “And you’d be more comfortable with that?”

My eyes meet hers, though my focus is inward as I ponder. She remains silent, offering the space I’m working through, a quality of hers I’ve come to value—she knows when to let someone process things alone.

She nods as if she is speaking to herself. “I’ll go,” she says quietly after a moment, her voice gentle but firm.

I blink, surprised. “Really? You know Cole will be there.” And then realization dawns on me. “Oh, Juilliard…” I whisper, and her expression closes off again.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she says quietly, “just like you don’t want to talk about what happened between you and Ethan. The past should stay in the past.”

Before I can respond, a voice interrupts us. “What are you bitches planning?”

We turn to see Vanessa in the doorway, headphones hanging around her neck. I sometimes wonder why she’s always lost in her world of music.

“Ethan wants to take Poppy, and consequently, all of us, to the varsity ball,” Eva explains, her voice steady. “Well, not really. We’ll be with his friends, but he’ll buy us pretty dresses.”

Vanessa snorts, a smirk playing on her lips. “What a boy wouldn’t do to get laid. Can I get the older one?”

I feel my cheeks heat, and I turn away, trying to hide my blush. “It’s not like that,” I mumble, “and the older one is a senior and a Brit, so I doubt it, but are you in?” I turn back toward her when she doesn’t answer, and she stares at me.

“Are you?” I press, looking at her.

“Am I what?”

“Are you in?” I ask, my voice hopeful. Please say yes, I silently plead.

She shrugs, nonchalant. “Free dress and a hot Brit? Why not?”

I frown, about to remind her again that I can’t guarantee the hot Brit, but she puts her headphones back on, effectively ending the conversation.

“By the way, your groceries were delivered. I put them on the counter,” she adds before turning and disappearing into her room.

Eva looks at me, a silent question in her eyes. “Did you take money from the food jar?”

Eva and I move toward the kitchen, the scent of fresh produce wafting through the air as we approach the brown bags on the counter. My fingers graze over the items peeking out from the top: ripe tomatoes, fresh bread, and sweet chocolate. All my favorites, all things I haven’t indulged in for a while due to the tight budget.

The sight of the chocolate bar instantly transports me back to a day in high school. I can almost hear the hum of the vending machine and feel the frustration as my favorite chocolate bar dangled, stuck, refusing to drop. I had shaken the machine, desperation evident, when a familiar voice teased from behind, “Need some help there?”

I turned to find Ethan, a smirk playing on his lips. Without waiting for my response, he’d given the machine a nudge, and the chocolate bar had fallen. He’d picked it up, waving it teasingly in front of me. “Finders keepers?”

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