The Moment Before a Change

The Arrival

The keys rattled in the lock of 4B, a sound that cut through the muffled bass of the speaker Daniela had blasting in the kitchen.

Daniela Avanzini didn't do "quiet." She did presence. She was currently leaning against the marble countertop, scrolling through her phone with a protein shake in one hand, looking every bit the star of the dance department even in her sweats. When the door finally swung open, she didn't look up immediately.

"You're late," Daniela said, her voice dropping into that playfully sharp tone she used to keep people on their toes. "My mom said you'd be here at four. It's four-fifteen. I almost gave your room to my yoga mat."

Sophia Laforteza stepped into the entryway, carrying a single duffel bag as if it weighed nothing. She didn't offer an apology. She didn't even offer a smile. She just kicked the door shut with the heel of a cherry-red leather boot.

The outfit was a lot: a vintage white tee tucked into wide-legged patterned pants that looked like they belonged in a 1970s jazz club, topped off with a worn leather jacket she wore like a second skin. She looked less like a theater student and more like a secret you weren't supposed to find out.

"Traffic," Sophia said simply. Her voice was low, melodic, and entirely unimpressed.

Daniela finally looked up, eyes trailing from the red boots to the mess of dark hair. She felt a strange, fleeting prickle of annoyance—usually, when people walked into a room with Daniela Avanzini, they at least had the decency to look slightly intimidated. Or enamored.

"Is that it? 'Traffic'?" Daniela pushed off the counter, crossing her arms. "Most people say 'Hi, Dani, it's so good to see you, thank you for letting me live in your gorgeous family apartment for half the price of a dorm.'"

Sophia adjusted the strap of her bag, her gaze finally meeting Daniela's. It was a calm, steady look—the kind Sophia usually reserved for the back row of a darkened theater.

"Hi, Dani," Sophia repeated, her tone dry. "Where's the room?"

Daniela huffed a laugh, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. She liked a challenge, and Sophia Laforteza—the girl her mom wouldn't stop raving about, the girl who dated her bestfriend Manon—seemed like a very big one.

"Down the hall, first door on the left," Daniela said, gesturing vaguely. "Don't get too comfortable. Megan and Manon are coming over later for drinks, and Manon didn't mention you were the new roommate. This should be fun."

Sophia didn't flinch at the mention of her ex. She just gave a single, nonchalant nod. "Cool. I'll be in my room. Try to keep the music below a funeral march volume."

As Sophia walked away, the leather of her jacket creaking softly, Daniela found herself staring a second too long.

"Feisty," Daniela muttered to herself, taking a slow sip of her shake. "We'll see how long that 'mysterious' act lasts."