The Art of Our Enemy

Previously

…“Yeah,” I declared, grabbing her hand, a sudden, uncharacteristic impulse. “Let’s go out there and do something… unexpected.” She squeezed my hand, her grin mirroring mine. “Unexpected? Like what?” “Like… us,” I said, and before either of us could overthink it, we were jogging towards the auditorium doors, the applause growing louder, our forgotten rivalry replaced by the thrilling, terrifying, and utterly exhilarating prospect of what came next. We had no plan, no act, just each other and the lingering scent of dust bunnies. And for the first time, that felt like more than enough.