Invisible Strings

Chapter 8: Arms to Fall Into

Hannah stirred awake slowly, the kind of heavy, drowsy waking where the world didn't quite feel real yet. Her dorm was dim, streaked with early morning light filtering through the curtains. She blinked, shifting beneath the blanket, tucked neatly around her in a way she knew she hadn't done.

For a moment, last night felt like a blur, a dream she wasn't sure she should believe in. Isadora's arms around her. The warmth. The steadiness. The way her chest had felt safe enough to fall asleep against. It couldn't have been real... could it?

She swung her legs over the side of the bed, rubbing her eyes, and caught her reflection in the small mirror above her desk. That's when her breath caught.

There, faint but unmistakable, was the smudge of color just at her hairline. Lipstick. Isadora's lipstick.

Hannah froze. Her heart stuttered in her chest, heat blooming across her cheeks. She reached up, fingertips brushing over the spot, as if she could erase it... or prove it wasn't really there. But it didn't matter. She knew.

A kiss. A forehead kiss.

Her throat tightened, her mind racing. Was it... affection? Comfort? Pity? A teacher soothing a scared student? Or was it something else? Something she wasn't sure she dared put into words.

"What am I thinking?" Hannah muttered. Almost upset and embarrassed at herself for letting these thoughts control her the way they are. Confusing her.

By the time she got herself up and ready, the faint mark was gone, washed away. But the feeling lingered, stubborn and unshakable, tucked somewhere in her chest where no water could scrub it clean.

By the time Hannah slipped into her seat, the classroom was already filling with chatter. Books slamming shut, chairs scraping, laughter bouncing from wall to wall. She kept her head down, hoping the noise would drown out the storm still swirling in her chest. Hoping that the class would go by fast, so the day would be over. Having Isadora's class be the last of the day always felt like a blessing, filled with some anxiety.

But then Isadora walked in.

Confident stride, stack of music sheets in hand, warm voice cutting through the clamor with effortless authority. She looked the same as always. Collected, steady, approachable, but to Hannah, she didn't look the same at all. Every tilt of her head, every sweep of her gaze across the room, felt sharper. Brighter. Like Hannah was seeing her for the first time again.

And when Isadora's eyes landed briefly on her, something inside Hannah jolted. Just a second too long. Just enough to confirm what Hannah already knew... last night had been real.

She ducked her head quickly, pretending to shuffle her notes. Her cheeks burned, but she couldn't stop the thought. Did Isadora remember it too? Or worse, was she pretending it never happened?

"Alright, everyone," Isadora called, her voice smooth and light as she passed out the day's sheets. "Pair up for some rhythm work. You know the drill."

Chairs scraped again, bodies shifting into pairs. Hannah stayed put, waiting for the inevitable quiet to single her out. Sure enough, she was left alone, clutching her pencil like a lifeline. 

Isadora's steps approached, soft against the floor. "Looks like it's you and me again, Hannah."

She crouched beside her desk, sliding a sheet of paper onto the surface. Too close. Too warm. Hannah's breath caught as she caught the faintest trace of her perfume, the same one she'd fallen asleep to last night.

Isadora leaned in just slightly, her tone casual but her eyes softer than they should've been. "Don't disappear on me, okay?"

Hannah nodded quickly, staring at the paper, afraid that if she looked up, she'd give herself away.