---
Episode 2: Shadows of Attraction
The night before Prom felt different.
Not just for Layla Wellington — but for all of Riverside High.
Fairy lights flickered across the gym ceiling, crews polished the floors until they gleamed, and the faint scent of roses filled the air. For everyone else, it was a night to party. For Layla, it was the moment she'd been working toward for weeks.
She stood before her mirror, adjusting the delicate straps of her silver gown. The fabric shimmered under the warm glow of her lamp, catching the light like water. Her hair — chestnut-brown and soft as silk — was pinned in a low, elegant bun, a few loose strands framing her face. The diamond earrings she borrowed from her mother added just enough sparkle.
"Perfect," she whispered to her reflection. Or at least, she hoped so.
Because tonight, she wasn't just the creative arts captain — she was Ethan Marshall's dance partner.
And that thought alone sent butterflies tumbling through her stomach.
---
Across town, Ethan tightened his cufflinks in front of his mirror. His tux fit perfectly — black, crisp, timeless. The silver tie he'd chosen wasn't random; it was to match her.
He smiled faintly, shaking his head. Why do I care this much? he thought.
He told himself it was just the performance. Just the showcase. But deep down, he knew the truth — something about Layla had gotten under his skin since their first rehearsal.
---
By the time the first limousines began pulling up to Riverside High, the campus had transformed. The gym — now an elegant ballroom — glowed beneath chandeliers strung from the rafters. Crystal table centrepieces reflected flickers of pink and gold light. Students poured in, laughter echoing, camera flashes blinding.
Layla greeted guests like a pro, clipboard in hand, making sure everything ran smoothly. Madeline, her best friend, leaned in with a mischievous grin.
"Tiffany Larson's here," she whispered. "In red. And she looks ready for battle."
Layla rolled her eyes. "Let her. We're here to run a show, not start a war."
"Sure," Madeline said, smirking. "But it doesn't hurt that you look like the main character tonight."
Before Layla could respond, a familiar voice spoke beside her.
"Hard to argue with that."
She turned — and there was Ethan, hands in his pockets, looking effortlessly confident. His blue eyes flickered with amusement as he took in her dress.
"You clean up nice, Wellington."
Her pulse stuttered. "You too, Marshall. Didn't think you'd match the theme this well."
"Silver and black?" He grinned. "Lucky guess."
---
The Prom officially began with Principal Harris's brief speech, followed by dinner — laughter, soft music, the clinking of glasses. Layla and Ethan were seated near each other, though the conversation around the table blurred into white noise.
Every time she glanced at him, he was already looking at her. Neither said much, but the silence between them hummed with possibility.
When the band took a break, Ethan leaned closer. "Come on," he whispered. "Let's get some air."
Layla hesitated. "We're supposed to stay inside—"
"It's just the rooftop," he said with a grin. "Five minutes. Promise."
---
The rooftop was quiet, washed in silver moonlight. From up here, the music below sounded soft and distant — almost like it belonged to another world.
Layla rested her hands on the railing, the cool metal grounding her. Ethan stood beside her, hands tucked into his pockets.
"I'm glad we did this," he said quietly.
"The dance?" she asked.
"The partnership. The rehearsals. You."
Her heart skipped. "You sound like you're giving a speech."
He laughed. "Maybe. Or maybe I'm just saying I like spending time with you."
Layla looked up at him, her expression unreadable. "Careful, Marshall. People talk."
"Let them," he said simply. His tone wasn't cocky — just honest.
For a moment, the world stilled. Then her phone buzzed — a message from the Prom Committee.
Showcase in 5 minutes. Be ready!
Layla exhaled. "Guess that's our cue."
"Let's go make them remember us," Ethan said, offering his hand.
She took it.
---
When they stepped onto the ballroom floor, the crowd hushed. DJ Vega announced their names, and the spotlight followed them as the music began — a slow, graceful waltz that seemed to breathe with them.
Layla's steps were flawless, Ethan's movements surprisingly fluid. Each turn, each glance, each brush of their hands told a story — one neither of them dared put into words.
When the song ended, the applause was thunderous.
They bowed, hearts racing, faces flushed — and for a split second, they shared a look that said something's changed.
---
Later, after the cheers and congratulations faded, the night continued with soft jazz and clinking glasses.
Ethan found Layla again near the garden terrace, away from the noise. The night air was cool, the stars sharp against the sky.
"Hey," he said softly. "Still up for that talk?"
She hesitated — half of her wanting to keep things professional, the other half drawn to the warmth in his voice.
"Maybe," she said. "Let's just… see where this goes."
He smiled, and for a moment, everything else — the lights, the music, the whispers — faded away.
Because for both of them, something had already begun.
---