Secret Patterns

13. Soft Questions, Sharp Edges

"Who's most likely to cry after a good stage?"

Rumi lifted silver shyly. Abby lifted red...then set it down; Mira lifted silver and patted Rumi's knee, which made Rumi laugh rather than cry.

"Who's most likely to start a rumor?"

"Fans," Mira said before paddles moved. The host blinked, then cackled. The room applauded the dodge.

"And finally," the host said, the smile curving sharp again, "who's most likely to fall in love during a collab?"

Cameras leaned. The room's sound flattened to a layer of high air.

Zoey lifted both paddles and crossed them over her face. "Block!"

Baby did the same. Mystery didn't move. Rumi put her paddle in her lap and smiled into her hands. Jinu raised nothing.

Rin felt Romance's attention like warmth against her sleeve. She kept her body still and raised...her water bottle.

The room laughed; the host applauded the non-answer like an answer she loved more. "Hydration is key," she said. "Okay, we'll split for quick pairs."

A PA tapped cards. "Rumi & Jinu; Mira & Abby; Zoey with Mystery and Baby; Rin & Romance."

The stools rearranged. The floor took a breath that smelled like ozone and fabric softener.

Rumi and Jinu's segment happened under the safe halo of harmony. The prompt—teach each other a tiny ad-lib—became Rumi coaxing a small slide out of Jinu and Jinu returning with a straight-line run that made Rumi clap once, delighted. The clip would read like a flower opening on people's phones.

"Do you ever smile?" the host teased Jinu as a button.

He didn't, quite. "When it's earned," he said, and then glanced, barely, at Rumi. The camera drank it like nectar.

Mira and Abby's bit was cleaner than a surgeon's hands. Show your warm-up. They did—in counts and breaths, in mirror symmetry. "We both like preparation," Mira said for the soundbite. Abby added, "And quietly fixing what can break." Their thumbs brushed a mic pack at the same moment as they both adjusted it; the editor would zoom on that.

"Team Mom and Dad energy," the host cooed.

"We prefer 'functional,'" Mira said.

"Functional is hot," a cameraman muttered, and someone shushed him too late.

Zoey, Mystery, and Baby were chaos art. Their prompt—teach a crowd chant—devolved into Baby testing if boba straw color changed vocal tone while Mystery deadpanned one-word color verdicts and Zoey escalated until even the host surrendered, wheezing, "Okay—okay—cut—keep all of that."

"Science," Baby declared.

"Balance is fine," Mystery said.

"Posterity will thank us," Zoey pronounced.

Rin's turn waited like a door she could already see beyond.

"Rin and Romance," the host sang. "Your pre-chorus is the talk of the control room. Show us the count you use to lock it."

Rin sat, knees aligned, shoulders down, hands loose. She could feel Mira watching across the lights, feel Rumi's attention like a hand hovering over hers, feel Zoey's glee fizzing in the corner. She could feel Romance not looking at her yet.

"One," she said, marking the beat with a small lift of her fingers. "Two. Three. Four." The breath at the top was hers alone.

Romance matched the shapes and added a whisper-soft "and," like yesterday, like a secret handed back.

"Explain the 'and'?" the host asked, delighted.

"For surprise," Romance said easily. "If the room tilts."

"Rooms tilt?" the host laughed.

"Sometimes," Rin said before he could turn myth into flirting. "On big days." She set her hand down. "We reset together."

"Teamwork," the host swooned. "We love it."

Romance leaned an inch into the lens. "We do, too."

The floor director circled a finger. The tally light went dark.

"Beautiful," the producer called. "We got it. Let's grab some candids and release you."

Cables were coiled; applause was small but sincere. The ring lights dimmed to sensible suns.

Rin stepped off her stool. The floor felt like floor again.

"Good dodge," Mira said under the hum, drifting close enough to be a conspiracy. "On the 'love' prompt."

"I hydrated," Rin said.

Zoey snorted. "I screamed."

"You crossed paddles," Rumi said, amused.

"Same thing," Zoey said serenely.

Abby passed Mira a single-use wipe without comment when he saw a smear of bronzer on her mic collar. She said, "Thank you," like she understood that was a whole paragraph. Rumi touched Jinu's sleeve once—gratitude, not claim. Jinu did not jerk away. Baby pressed a spare straw into Zoey's palm like it was a friendship bracelet; Mystery shook his head when she tried to crown him with a towel, and she did it anyway; he let her.

Romance drifted near the doorway just as Rin reached it. He didn't block the exit. He didn't say you didn't answer. He said, "Four stayed clean."

"So did your 'and,'" she said, because fairness cost less than fighting.

He tipped two fingers in a lazy salute. "Tomorrow," he promised, or warned.

She let the corridor swallow his grin.

Out of sight of the lights, Rumi's text pinged her phone even though Rumi was twenty steps behind her: Tea?

Rin typed, Yes. Then, for the second message, Hydration is key.

A beat, and Zoey's reply detonated in the group chat: HYDRATION IS LOVE.

Mira: Please hydrate quietly.

The van ride back would be loud, and the dorm would be bright, and the night would fall like a curtain anyway.

Rin flexed her hand once—the one that had marked four under the lights. No shimmer lived there. The furnace banked.

Be normal. Be quiet. Be kinder than the thing that lives in you.

The interview would air in a week with jump cuts and captions and a thumbnail that caught her half-smile in a way that would be clipped and re-posted a thousand times. People would say the chemistry looked effortless; people would argue about who fell first.

They wouldn't be wrong about the spark.

They wouldn't know whose match it was.