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Location: The Augmented Reality Center - Pacific Royal Campus
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________Dance Monkey #4.061: Something's Gotta Give
Harper sighed in relief as she finally found an empty seat at one of the smaller, round tables near the edge of the room. The bustling crowd seemed to fade into the background as she made her way over, her eyes looking for any sign of reprieve. Her feet were already screaming from the heels, but given her minimal effort to break them in, she wasn’t surprised. The brunette wasted no time kicking them off under the table the second she sat down, wiggling her toes against the cool floor in quiet victory. She glanced around, hoping no one noticed her unceremonious shoe removal, but the room was too busy for anyone to care it seemed.
Good, Harper thought, leaning back in her chair while giving herself a chance to breathe and take in her surroundings again. The rhythmic thrum of the music, the swirl of bodies on the dance floor, the bursts of laughter from nearby tables—it was all background to the quiet beat of her own thoughts.
For the first time since the semester had begun, Harper wasn’t moving, wasn’t constantly looking for someone or something. She could just… sit. It was nice, a rare luxury she hadn’t realized she’d missed so much. It was the only indulgence from her past she’d allowed herself. The thought lingered as she rolled her ankles beneath the table, savouring the fleeting relief and the simple pleasure of being still.
Nonetheless, the dull ache in her feet was almost a welcome distraction—something tangible she could focus on, unlike the knots in her stomach. The heels were just a symptom, after all. A symptom of something she was constantly doing: making adjustments, compromises, and small sacrifices just to keep moving. Just to keep up. To be there. To be…useful.
“Long night?” A voice cut through her thoughts, startling her from her reverie.
Harper tensed slightly before glancing up. A guy, maybe her age or a little older, stood near the table, his hands tucked into the pockets of his pants. His smile suggested familiarity, though Harper was certain she’d never seen him before.
Her regard narrowed, cool and assessing. “Do I know you?”
The guy chuckled softly, shaking his head. “No, not really. But you looked like you could use some company. Or, y’know, a distraction from those killer heels.”
Harper’s brow twitched at his regular tone. So, someone had noticed her earlier. This realization made her sit up straighter, automatically pulling back from the uninvited intrusion. “I’m fine. Just needed a break,” she replied, her voice clipped and controlled.
He raised an eyebrow, unfazed by her dismissive response. “Sure, sure. Doesn’t look like much of a break, though. You’re still wound up.” His eyes studied her face, as if he could read something on it that she could not see.
So that’s what that felt like.
Harper didn’t respond immediately, just studied him with a critical eye in return. Who did he think he was, walking up to a stranger like this? The audacity of his casual approach made her bristle, her mind filled with a dozen retorts. She almost told him to leave but stopped herself, realizing there was no point in causing a scene over someone trying to make small talk. Yet, Harper wasn’t one for pointless social pleasantries, especially when she was trying to enjoy a rare moment of peace. Where someone wasn’t being chased. Or interrogated. Or kidnapped.
“I’m good,” she repeated, her tone firmer this time, hoping he’d take the hint.
But instead of backing off, the guy just shrugged and pulled out a chair, sliding into it without asking. “Mind if I sit? Promise I won’t keep you long. Just figured it’s better than standing awkwardly alone in a corner.” His nonchalance was both irritating and intriguing, as if he was used to breaking through people’s defences. The chair scraped against the floor, however, a grating sound that matched her rising irritation. What was the point of asking if he was going to do it anyway?
“Suit yourself,” Harper muttered, tucking Cass’s jacket closer to her chest. “But I wasn’t exactly asking for company.” Her eyes darted around the room, searching for an escape route, but she knew she was stuck for now.
He leaned back in his chair, an easy grin playing on his lips. “Fair enough. You’re not the chatty type, huh?”
Harper’s eyes flickered up to meet his briefly, her expression as unreadable as ever. “Not with strangers,” she replied, her voice cool and detached. She hoped the curt response would deter him, but his presence was like an itch she couldn’t scratch. It didn’t help that when she tried to tap into her powers, she hit that same mental wall as before—the one she knew better than to push through. Which meant she had no way of reading his true intentions.
He let out a low whistle, though his body language remained composed. “Noted. Guess I’ll just sit here quietly then,” he said, as if her refusal was expected, even part of the conversation. His tone wasn’t taunting, but there was something in his nonchalance that made Harper stiffen, her guard rising instinctively. She wasn’t sure what it was about him—maybe the way he wasn’t pushing, wasn’t affected by her obvious dismissal. What did he want?
She felt his stare, lingering just on the edge of her awareness, as she focused on the room—the people, the chatter, the music. Let him sit there. He’d lose interest soon enough. But after a few beats, the quiet stretched, and instead of leaving, he spoke again, his voice lower this time, almost thoughtful.
“You’re doing that thing.”
Harper’s brow furrowed, though she kept her eyes fixed elsewhere. “What thing?”
“Scanning the room. Calculating. You haven’t stopped since you sat down.” He tilted his head, studying her with a keen, almost unsettling interest. “It’s subtle, but it’s there. Bet you’ve already clocked the exits, too, just in case.”
The comment caught her off guard, though Harper kept her face impassive. “Old habit,” she muttered, her guard rising further.
He smiled faintly, shrugging as if to say he wasn’t judging. “Not surprising. You’ve got that ‘always prepared’ vibe going on.” His eyes narrowed thoughtfully, like he was trying to piece her together. “Military upbringing? You’re too precise, too aware not to have been trained for it.”
Harper’s jaw tightened. It was an observation that made sense, but the fact he’d picked up on it so quickly put her on edge.“Something like that,”she answered, not giving him more than he needed to know.
“Yeah, thought so,” he mused, leaning back in his chair as if satisfied with his deduction. The way he moved was almost too at ease for a place like this. Harper noticed then that he had an effortless style, the kind that made him stand out without trying too hard. His hair was a tousled mess of dark curls, adding to the impression that he wasn’t overly concerned with making a perfect impression. But the sleek, tailored suit he wore told a different story—dark fabric that highlighted broad shoulders and a frame built to be noticed. His tie was loosened just enough to lend a casual touch to the otherwise polished look, as if he’d made a deliberate choice not to fit the typical mould.
“You move like someone who’s always thinking two steps ahead. But it’s gotta be exhausting, right? Always anticipating, always guarding. Don’t you ever want to—what’s the word—relax?”
“I’m fine, thanks,”Harper replied, her voice firm, a warning not to push further.
“Sure,” he said, though his tone suggested he didn’t believe her. He leaned forward a little, resting his arms on the table, his scrutiny of her unwavering. The loosened tie and easy posture gave him an air of casual confidence, but his eyes—sharp and calculating—didn’t match one bit. “But are you?”
She met his stare. People didn’t usually press her like this, especially strangers. And yet, here this guy was, picking at the edges of her composure. Part of her wanted to shut it down, to put a hard stop to the conversation. But another part—buried deeper—wondered why it bothered her so much. Why did his simple observation feel like an invasion? Why did he even care? What did he see in her that made him push?
Harper shifted a bit in her seat, trying to deflect. “You really like playing therapist with people you just met?”
He chuckled, the sound low and unbothered, like he was genuinely amused. “Not usually. But something tells me you’re not like most people. Am I wrong?”
Harper didn’t respond, her lips pressing into a thin line. He wasn’t wrong, but that wasn’t a compliment in her world. Being different meant standing out, and standing out rarely came without consequences.
“You know, you remind me of someone I used to know. Someone who never let their guard down either.” His voice softened, taking on a more empathetic tone. “But the thing is, no one can keep that up forever. Eventually, something’s gotta give.”
She didn’t like it. The implication behind his words. The guy spoke with a certainty that rattled the brunette—like he knew something she didn’t want to admit. Before she could form a reply, however, the energy in the room shifted. Harper felt it before she even saw it—an undercurrent of unease. The low hum of conversation around her faltered, then changed pitch, signalling that something was amiss.
Harper’s gaze was irresistibly drawn toward the growing crowd on the dance floor, her curiosity piqued by the sudden commotion. A cluster of students had gathered, their bodies pressed close together, their murmurs swelling into a cacophony of concern. Something had happened. Faint whispers reached her ears, carried on the currents of anxious conversation, and one name stood out, repeated in fragments of hurried speech: Chad. He’d been hurt. And by not just her date but Aurora, as well.
What in the world was going on?
The guy across from her followed her gaze, his own demeanour changing subtly as he took in the scene. His relaxed posture stiffened, and his eyes narrowed with a newfound seriousness. “Looks like trouble,” he murmured, the lightness gone from his tone.
Harper didn’t need him to tell her that. She was already halfway to standing, heels slipping back on as her body moved before her mind fully caught up. Cass. Chad. A fight. The context snapped together too quickly for her liking, and an uneasy knot tightened in her stomach. She knew her date was fiercely protective of his friends, which meant whatever had happened, it must’ve been serious. Lorcán’s words had hinted at just that, but still—a fight? Her fingers tightened briefly around Cass’s jacket as her mind went through the options.
Stay or go? Intervene or wait?
“You gonna let it give?” the guy asked then, a quiet challenge under the question.
Harper’s eyes flicked to him, locking onto his steady gaze. Strangely, she felt a glimmer of understanding pass between them—an unspoken acknowledgment, like he already knew the choice she was about to make. She hadn’t changed overnight, and as Emily had said, she couldn’t be expected to. Not yet.
Without further hesitation, Harper turned away, her feet propelling her into the thick of the crowd. The pulse of the music and chatter rippled around her, but her focus narrowed as she scanned for Cass. She didn’t blame him for getting caught up in whatever had happened; it was just the kind of night where things spun out of control. Nonetheless, she couldn’t help but wonder how he’d explain it.
Just ahead, she spotted him weaving through the crowd, his loosened tie and relaxed posture marking him out. Harper quickened her pace, her heels clicking with determination as she closed the distance between them. When she was close enough, she reached out, her fingers curling around his arm, firm yet gentle. Tugging him back just enough to catch his attention, she leaned in, raising her voice to be heard over the music.
“Next time, maybe leave the heroics until after the first dance, yeah?”
Good, Harper thought, leaning back in her chair while giving herself a chance to breathe and take in her surroundings again. The rhythmic thrum of the music, the swirl of bodies on the dance floor, the bursts of laughter from nearby tables—it was all background to the quiet beat of her own thoughts.
For the first time since the semester had begun, Harper wasn’t moving, wasn’t constantly looking for someone or something. She could just… sit. It was nice, a rare luxury she hadn’t realized she’d missed so much. It was the only indulgence from her past she’d allowed herself. The thought lingered as she rolled her ankles beneath the table, savouring the fleeting relief and the simple pleasure of being still.
Nonetheless, the dull ache in her feet was almost a welcome distraction—something tangible she could focus on, unlike the knots in her stomach. The heels were just a symptom, after all. A symptom of something she was constantly doing: making adjustments, compromises, and small sacrifices just to keep moving. Just to keep up. To be there. To be…useful.
“Long night?” A voice cut through her thoughts, startling her from her reverie.
Harper tensed slightly before glancing up. A guy, maybe her age or a little older, stood near the table, his hands tucked into the pockets of his pants. His smile suggested familiarity, though Harper was certain she’d never seen him before.
Her regard narrowed, cool and assessing. “Do I know you?”
The guy chuckled softly, shaking his head. “No, not really. But you looked like you could use some company. Or, y’know, a distraction from those killer heels.”
Harper’s brow twitched at his regular tone. So, someone had noticed her earlier. This realization made her sit up straighter, automatically pulling back from the uninvited intrusion. “I’m fine. Just needed a break,” she replied, her voice clipped and controlled.
He raised an eyebrow, unfazed by her dismissive response. “Sure, sure. Doesn’t look like much of a break, though. You’re still wound up.” His eyes studied her face, as if he could read something on it that she could not see.
So that’s what that felt like.
Harper didn’t respond immediately, just studied him with a critical eye in return. Who did he think he was, walking up to a stranger like this? The audacity of his casual approach made her bristle, her mind filled with a dozen retorts. She almost told him to leave but stopped herself, realizing there was no point in causing a scene over someone trying to make small talk. Yet, Harper wasn’t one for pointless social pleasantries, especially when she was trying to enjoy a rare moment of peace. Where someone wasn’t being chased. Or interrogated. Or kidnapped.
“I’m good,” she repeated, her tone firmer this time, hoping he’d take the hint.
But instead of backing off, the guy just shrugged and pulled out a chair, sliding into it without asking. “Mind if I sit? Promise I won’t keep you long. Just figured it’s better than standing awkwardly alone in a corner.” His nonchalance was both irritating and intriguing, as if he was used to breaking through people’s defences. The chair scraped against the floor, however, a grating sound that matched her rising irritation. What was the point of asking if he was going to do it anyway?
“Suit yourself,” Harper muttered, tucking Cass’s jacket closer to her chest. “But I wasn’t exactly asking for company.” Her eyes darted around the room, searching for an escape route, but she knew she was stuck for now.
He leaned back in his chair, an easy grin playing on his lips. “Fair enough. You’re not the chatty type, huh?”
Harper’s eyes flickered up to meet his briefly, her expression as unreadable as ever. “Not with strangers,” she replied, her voice cool and detached. She hoped the curt response would deter him, but his presence was like an itch she couldn’t scratch. It didn’t help that when she tried to tap into her powers, she hit that same mental wall as before—the one she knew better than to push through. Which meant she had no way of reading his true intentions.
He let out a low whistle, though his body language remained composed. “Noted. Guess I’ll just sit here quietly then,” he said, as if her refusal was expected, even part of the conversation. His tone wasn’t taunting, but there was something in his nonchalance that made Harper stiffen, her guard rising instinctively. She wasn’t sure what it was about him—maybe the way he wasn’t pushing, wasn’t affected by her obvious dismissal. What did he want?
She felt his stare, lingering just on the edge of her awareness, as she focused on the room—the people, the chatter, the music. Let him sit there. He’d lose interest soon enough. But after a few beats, the quiet stretched, and instead of leaving, he spoke again, his voice lower this time, almost thoughtful.
“You’re doing that thing.”
Harper’s brow furrowed, though she kept her eyes fixed elsewhere. “What thing?”
“Scanning the room. Calculating. You haven’t stopped since you sat down.” He tilted his head, studying her with a keen, almost unsettling interest. “It’s subtle, but it’s there. Bet you’ve already clocked the exits, too, just in case.”
The comment caught her off guard, though Harper kept her face impassive. “Old habit,” she muttered, her guard rising further.
He smiled faintly, shrugging as if to say he wasn’t judging. “Not surprising. You’ve got that ‘always prepared’ vibe going on.” His eyes narrowed thoughtfully, like he was trying to piece her together. “Military upbringing? You’re too precise, too aware not to have been trained for it.”
Harper’s jaw tightened. It was an observation that made sense, but the fact he’d picked up on it so quickly put her on edge.“Something like that,”she answered, not giving him more than he needed to know.
“Yeah, thought so,” he mused, leaning back in his chair as if satisfied with his deduction. The way he moved was almost too at ease for a place like this. Harper noticed then that he had an effortless style, the kind that made him stand out without trying too hard. His hair was a tousled mess of dark curls, adding to the impression that he wasn’t overly concerned with making a perfect impression. But the sleek, tailored suit he wore told a different story—dark fabric that highlighted broad shoulders and a frame built to be noticed. His tie was loosened just enough to lend a casual touch to the otherwise polished look, as if he’d made a deliberate choice not to fit the typical mould.
“You move like someone who’s always thinking two steps ahead. But it’s gotta be exhausting, right? Always anticipating, always guarding. Don’t you ever want to—what’s the word—relax?”
“I’m fine, thanks,”Harper replied, her voice firm, a warning not to push further.
“Sure,” he said, though his tone suggested he didn’t believe her. He leaned forward a little, resting his arms on the table, his scrutiny of her unwavering. The loosened tie and easy posture gave him an air of casual confidence, but his eyes—sharp and calculating—didn’t match one bit. “But are you?”
She met his stare. People didn’t usually press her like this, especially strangers. And yet, here this guy was, picking at the edges of her composure. Part of her wanted to shut it down, to put a hard stop to the conversation. But another part—buried deeper—wondered why it bothered her so much. Why did his simple observation feel like an invasion? Why did he even care? What did he see in her that made him push?
Harper shifted a bit in her seat, trying to deflect. “You really like playing therapist with people you just met?”
He chuckled, the sound low and unbothered, like he was genuinely amused. “Not usually. But something tells me you’re not like most people. Am I wrong?”
Harper didn’t respond, her lips pressing into a thin line. He wasn’t wrong, but that wasn’t a compliment in her world. Being different meant standing out, and standing out rarely came without consequences.
“You know, you remind me of someone I used to know. Someone who never let their guard down either.” His voice softened, taking on a more empathetic tone. “But the thing is, no one can keep that up forever. Eventually, something’s gotta give.”
She didn’t like it. The implication behind his words. The guy spoke with a certainty that rattled the brunette—like he knew something she didn’t want to admit. Before she could form a reply, however, the energy in the room shifted. Harper felt it before she even saw it—an undercurrent of unease. The low hum of conversation around her faltered, then changed pitch, signalling that something was amiss.
Harper’s gaze was irresistibly drawn toward the growing crowd on the dance floor, her curiosity piqued by the sudden commotion. A cluster of students had gathered, their bodies pressed close together, their murmurs swelling into a cacophony of concern. Something had happened. Faint whispers reached her ears, carried on the currents of anxious conversation, and one name stood out, repeated in fragments of hurried speech: Chad. He’d been hurt. And by not just her date but Aurora, as well.
What in the world was going on?
The guy across from her followed her gaze, his own demeanour changing subtly as he took in the scene. His relaxed posture stiffened, and his eyes narrowed with a newfound seriousness. “Looks like trouble,” he murmured, the lightness gone from his tone.
Harper didn’t need him to tell her that. She was already halfway to standing, heels slipping back on as her body moved before her mind fully caught up. Cass. Chad. A fight. The context snapped together too quickly for her liking, and an uneasy knot tightened in her stomach. She knew her date was fiercely protective of his friends, which meant whatever had happened, it must’ve been serious. Lorcán’s words had hinted at just that, but still—a fight? Her fingers tightened briefly around Cass’s jacket as her mind went through the options.
Stay or go? Intervene or wait?
“You gonna let it give?” the guy asked then, a quiet challenge under the question.
Harper’s eyes flicked to him, locking onto his steady gaze. Strangely, she felt a glimmer of understanding pass between them—an unspoken acknowledgment, like he already knew the choice she was about to make. She hadn’t changed overnight, and as Emily had said, she couldn’t be expected to. Not yet.
Without further hesitation, Harper turned away, her feet propelling her into the thick of the crowd. The pulse of the music and chatter rippled around her, but her focus narrowed as she scanned for Cass. She didn’t blame him for getting caught up in whatever had happened; it was just the kind of night where things spun out of control. Nonetheless, she couldn’t help but wonder how he’d explain it.
Just ahead, she spotted him weaving through the crowd, his loosened tie and relaxed posture marking him out. Harper quickened her pace, her heels clicking with determination as she closed the distance between them. When she was close enough, she reached out, her fingers curling around his arm, firm yet gentle. Tugging him back just enough to catch his attention, she leaned in, raising her voice to be heard over the music.
“Next time, maybe leave the heroics until after the first dance, yeah?”