Jayna looked over at Ginevra. On Ginevra's usually serious face, there was, unmistakably, a little flicker of awkwardness.
"You don't like it?" Jayna asked.
Ginevra's eyes stayed fixed on the screen. On Jayna's phone, behind her own name, there was now a tiny red heart tacked on.
She'd seen this look once before—on her cousin Chloe's phone.Back then, Chloe had shown her the way she'd saved her boyfriend's contact: a pet name, a heart, a whole row of cutesy symbols.
Ginevra hadn't understood it then. Especially not when her own contact name on Jayna's phone was now something along the lines of "Summit Ridge's No.1 Genius · Little Ginevra ♡".
Put together like that, it just felt… wrong. Wrong and ridiculous.
"A bit… embarrassing," she finally said, picking the most accurate word she could find for her current state of mind.
"Oh, relax, it's fine. It's on my phone, no one's gonna see it anyway."
Jayna laughed, bright and careless, and quickly drew the phone back into her hand, in case Ginevra's thin skin made her demand a change.
Ginevra didn't argue. She let it go, shifted her own phone back toward her backpack, ready to tuck it away.
"Wait—"
Jayna's hand moved faster, slender fingers curling around Ginevra's wrist. Her eyes, glossy under the streetlights, lifted to Ginevra's face.
"Change my contact too," she said.
"…Okay."
Ginevra lowered her gaze. Under the glow of the streetlamp, her long lashes trembled faintly each time she blinked, dragging shadows across her cheeks.
Jayna deliberately leaned closer, shoulder nearly brushing Ginevra's arm, watching as those pale fingers moved over the screen. As expected, Ginevra went with the strictest, plainest option possible:
Contact name: Jaynara Stevens.
"Hey," Jayna drawled, drawing out the word, "I added hearts and a title to yours. Can't you at least make mine a tiny bit more affectionate?"
Ginevra paused. She honestly had no idea what counted as "more affectionate" in this context.
Before she could answer, Jayna's hand slid over the back of her phone, taking over. She tapped open the keyboard, flipped to the emoji panel with practiced ease, scrolled, and then, with a decisive little tap, added a tiny bunny icon after "Jaynara Stevens".
"There. Perfect."
She sounded satisfied, generous even, as if she'd granted Ginevra some huge mercy by demanding nothing further.
They walked on side by side.
The summer night wind skimmed lightly over their skin, carrying away the heat trapped under the streetlights. Their clothes still faintly held the smoky scent of the little barbecue place they'd just eaten at. Walking like this, slow and aimless, the smell would eventually dissipate.
Ahead and behind them, they passed groups of teenagers in different school uniforms, some walking, some bicycling. Most of them had that same exhausted-but-wired look of kids just released from evening study hall.
"Look at them," Jayna mused, sliding her school jacket over her shoulders and letting it hang loose, "they're coming home from a long night of studying. We're coming home from stuffing ourselves with barbecue. It's kinda funny when you think about it."
"That's just you," Ginevra said flatly, giving the girl-who-didn't-like-to-study a sideways glance, unsoftened and merciless.
"I mean, I definitely am," Jayna conceded, hand over her heart, "but you, Ms. Top-of-Summit-Ridge, you were right there eating skewers with me tonight. Don't you dare say you didn't."
She leaned in close, making a show of sniffing at Ginevra's sleeve."Smells like barbecue smoke to me."
Ginevra didn't bother answering. Her steps simply grew a bit faster, as though distance might filter out the noise.
Jayna had to trot a couple of steps to catch up.
While they waited at the crosswalk for the red light to change, she panted lightly and blurted, "Why are you walking so fast? Where do you even live?"
"Riverview Court."
"Riverview Court? But we already passed that!"
Jayna stared at her in disbelief, then reached out to tug at Ginevra's arm.
"You mean the one off West Street, right? We went straight past it ages ago."
Ginevra glanced at her face—cheeks flushed from the run, breath coming a bit quick, eyes wide. The tug on her arm was persistent, trying to steer her back.
Unfortunately for Jayna, Ginevra, though shorter, was a lot stronger than she looked. No matter how much Jayna pulled, she barely budged.
"What on earth did you eat growing up?" Jayna complained under her breath, still hauling uselessly on her arm. "You're tiny but you're solid like a brick wall. Are you turned around or what? Your place is that way."
"Gardencrest Residences," Ginevra said suddenly.
"Mm?"
Jayna followed the line of her gaze and saw the tall apartment blocks not far ahead, their windows glowing faintly in the night.
The realization hit her all at once.
"You were actually walking me home…?"
Ginevra's eyes shifted, that cool gaze suddenly evasive. She didn't nod, didn't deny it either.
The traffic light flicked to green.Without another word, she stepped off the curb and headed across the street, forcing Jayna—still full of questions—to scurry after her.
As they walked, Jayna kept sneaking sideways glances at the quiet figure next to her. An amused little smile tugged at the corners of her lips.
"So," she tried again, "how did you even know I live at Gardencrest?"
Ginevra kept her eyes forward. She honestly preferred walking in silence. The rhythm of her footsteps, the cool night air, the soft, distant hum of cars—all of it suited her just fine without commentary.
But Jaynara Stevens seemed pathologically incapable of leaving silence alone.
"Heard it between classes," Ginevra said at last.
"Wow," Jayna dragged the word out, her eyes lighting up, "so you were eavesdropping on me and Calista!"
Her voice was just a touch too loud, bright enough to echo slightly off the buildings.
Ginevra's brows drew together. She turned her head and gave Jayna a look.
"I was not," she said.
"Then how'd you hear it?" Jayna pressed, relentless.
"Your voices were too loud."
"It's break time, we're allowed to talk," Jayna protested. "It's not like we were—"
"Could you be quiet?" Ginevra cut in, calm but firm.
"Of course," Jayna said quickly, biting her lower lip.
Then she tilted her head, thought for half a second, and added breezily, "Actually, no."
She stuck out her tongue and pulled a face at Ginevra, every line of her expression saying: What are you going to do about it?
Ginevra sighed inwardly.
She honestly wasn't sure why she'd decided to walk this girl home. Watching Jayna skip ahead, almost bouncing with every other step, she seemed perfectly at ease in the dark, not scared of the night or the empty street in the slightest.
She doesn't need me, Ginevra thought, exasperated with herself. I'm the one overthinking.
Up ahead, Jayna was starting to feel bored.
No matter how much she slowed down or sped up, Ginevra kept a steady few meters of distance between them, as if some invisible rule required that gap to stay in place.
She really does think I talk too much, Jayna concluded gloomily.
She stopped, turned around, and walked backwards for a few steps so she could look at Ginevra as they moved.
The night seemed to grow hotter the farther they went. Sweat was beginning to bead along her hairline. With a huff, she shrugged out of her short-sleeved uniform shirt as well, leaving only the little camisole underneath. Her bare shoulders flashed under the streetlights.
She raised both hands in mock surrender.
"Okay, okay, I'll stop talking, happy?" she bargained. "Ginevra, at least walk next to me, will you…"
"Out of the way—move!"
The shout came from straight ahead, sharp and panicked.
A motorbike burst out of the dark like a thrown stone, engine roaring loud and ugly.
Before Jayna could even react, something cinched around her waist—an arm, lean but iron-strong, yanking her back with brutal force.
She stumbled hard against a solid chest. Her breath caught, the world tilting for a heartbeat.
When she looked up, Ginevra was staring past her, jaw tight, eyes stark with tension.
She didn't realize that just a second earlier, her body had been a few bare centimeters away from the bike's path.
Her heart hammered. She could only stand there and gulp air, watching the rider speed away without slowing at all. The guy merely flapped one hand in their direction in a half-hearted apology, then vanished down the road.
"What the hell," Jayna snapped, chest still heaving, "is he in a hurry to die or something?"
If Ginevra hadn't been there, she would've happily cursed his entire family line into next week.
"Watch where you're going," Ginevra said, that familiar chill back in her voice, as if her heart hadn't just leapt into her throat.
Her hand around Jayna's waist was ice-cold. In the heavy summer air, that coolness felt almost intoxicating.
Only then did Jayna become properly aware that she was still pressed close against Ginevra, practically folded into her arms.To be fair, if Ginevra hadn't reacted that fast, she'd definitely have been hit.
"Thank you," Jayna said quietly.
She swayed a little, legs still weak. Once she found her footing again, she stood in stunned silence for a few seconds before the gratitude made it out of her mouth.
Her waist ached—Ginevra had pulled her hard, harder than necessary maybe, and the skin there felt stretched and sore.
"For someone so skinny, you're really strong," Jayna said, her laugh returning, light and teasing. "Seriously."
Ginevra didn't answer.
Instead, she reached up to retie her ponytail, then bent down to look at her own feet.
"What are you looking at?" Jayna leaned over, curiosity instantly sparked.
She padded the last couple of steps closer and crouched beside her, peering at the same spot.
Ginevra glanced sideways at the sudden proximity.
Jayna was wearing only that thin white camisole; her pale curves shifted with each breath, the darker fabric underneath faintly visible. The neckline dipped just enough that the swell of her chest caught the light.
"Put your shirt on," Ginevra said, frowning, the words clipped.
"I'm hot," Jayna protested.
She dragged her fingers across her forehead; they came away damp, covered in a fine sheen of sweat. Meanwhile, Ginevra, dressed far more neatly and heavily than her, didn't look the least bit uncomfortable.
Under that cool stare, Jayna finally relented and tugged her short-sleeved shirt back on.
"There. Satisfied?" she muttered. "Now, what's wrong with your shoe?"
"…"
Jayna's eyes finally registered what lay smeared thickly across the sole.
"…Is that shoe… even savable?" she choked out.
Her lips twitched. Her entire face went red with the effort of not laughing. She could practically taste the inappropriate comments climbing up her throat, and it was taking everything she had not to say them.
Ginevra's expression, already relatively expressionless to begin with, darkened by several shades when she heard that tiny note of gloating in Jayna's voice.
Without a word, she stepped carefully on tiptoe over to the patch of grass by the curb and bent down to pick up a small broken twig. With precise, economical movements, she began scraping at her shoe.
Guilt pricked at Jayna's chest. It really did.
But the image—Summit Ridge's living legend of a top student, the untouchable Ginevra Volkova, having just stepped firmly into a pile of dog poop—
It was too much.
The dam broke. Her laughter burst out, unrestrained and ringing through the empty street, bright and utterly delighted.
It was real dog shit. Actual, honest-to-God dog shit.
Listening to that wholehearted, almost cathartic laughter, Ginevra had a moment—a very real moment—where she genuinely wanted to take that twig, still smeared with its dubious "golden" coating, and swipe it right across Jaynara Stevens's smug face.
Jayna coughed, forcing herself to stop, shoulders still shaking faintly.
"Ahem. Ginevra, do you… want help?" she asked, trying her best to sound serious.
"Go away."
Jayna obediently took a step back.
Her left foot came down on something soft and wet with a loud, undeniable squelch.
She froze.
Her gaze drifted from Ginevra's face to her own shoe, and then—
"AAAAH!"
Her scream tore out of her, high and tragic.
"My new Adidas! Are you kidding me!? Did that dog have an upset stomach or what—how is there another pile over here?!"
Ginevra didn't even look up.
"Serves you right," she said.
…
People always say that fate works in mysterious ways.
For Jaynara Stevens and Ginevra Volkova, fate meant this:to walk the same road under the same summer sky, bicker all the way home—
—and, without even trying, step into the same cursed trail of dog shit together.