She makes her way across the waxed floor towards Elektra with both hands behind her back and this soft little smile on her face, and she thinks about them hiding away together, sharing secrets in dark corners, shyly dancing around conversations they have wanted for so long to have.

As time passed, it was becoming more rare to find themselves among the same crowd; both had dedicated their time to discovering themselves, and there’s so much to learn when you’re a teenager, finding your footing in the world, learning about people, their experiences, as well their motives.

Elektra looks up from her shoes and blandly meets Cristina’s gaze. “Hiding?" Cris teases Elektra gently, bringing both hands around in front of her to fold them together against her thighs. "I'm surprised to even see you here."
Elektra lifts both arms to her chest and crosses them tightly, as if protecting herself from Cris. "No drink to keep you hydrated?" Cris asks lightly. She will not give in to this cold treatment from El, though it doesn’t bother her as much as it should anyone else. You see, Elektra has always been tight-lipped when something bothers her, and lately looked at Cris in exactly this way with exactly this same dispassion, this... lacking. There are times when Elektra looks at her with something more, but it seems she doesn’t want to give in now; but Cristina wants her to peel away her mask and step into her trap.  

"What are you doing?" Elektra poses the question, knowing she is not going to like the answer. Cristina pulls back just slightly, and her hands softly pat the fabric of her dress as she pretends to smooth over some inexistent wrinkles. "What? What am I doing?" Nothing about Elektra’s face changes. She is a stone, something to be dashed against, hurled screaming up across all her smooth-granite angles. Cris is going to break herself against Elektra this night, she knows, as long as she cracks her open just a little bit. “Invading my personal space?” But it was going to take a miracle.  

She understands why Elektra this aloof being; she could sense it from the opposite of the hall when a man, roughly their same age walked in minutes after a pretty blonde, together but not really, as if they wanted to spare feelings in that room filled with so many faces, what was his name? Dalton with a ridiculous-something-last name, behind them was Renzo holding the arm of his shiny new toy. Cristina and Elektra exchanged a particular furtive glance, a look of embarrassment, and a little hurt, trying to sink to the very bottom of their emotions.  

Elektra is irked; Cristina knows this. She gets this: she too has locked herself away in isolation from people, for so long that she can smell this out instantly in an another person. And though people admire her, they do not know her, and they do not want to; she has been built up into an illusion, and to know her would be to topple her from that perch. She’s full of imperfections, you see? They do not know Elektra either, and in a way, Cristina knows that Elektra knows; they are so much alike in that aspect.  

Tonight is one of those moments when they are twinning souls, except one wants distance and the other one clings, because Cristina just wants to be understood. She wants someone to tell her what she feels isn’t all that, that there are others experiencing this same sting inside the chest, but Elektra isn’t the type to speak about feelings, and she is absolutely not one to talk about their ex-boyfriends loving someone else. Because how petty would that be? Elektra doesn’t realize it until she notices Cris sinking beside her, crestfallen.  

The hallway is full of air that smells like hypocrisy, expensive alcohol, and prissy flowers, and she sucks it down deep and holds onto it tight. Elektra is not even exactly sure what it is that comes out of her mouth; she just needs to f***ing get out of there, but she can’t do that; she just doesn’t have it in her to run away, because why should she? Why should she feel like she doesn’t belong in that place too?

"Truth or dare?” — El spat.
“Hmm?” — the alcohol is making Cris sleepy, which only means she should have more of it.

“Truth or dare. It’s always a choice between the two in life. Dare me, or have my secrets.”

Elektra pastes a smile on her face and pops her knuckles and her neck. Cris wants to ask her exactly what she means, but she did not waste such a big, once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Elektra was cracked open, and Cristina ran her soft little fingers along the edges with such care.  

“You first!” —Cris squeaks.

  “I dare you to... reach the tower of glasses of champagne on the other side of the hall.” Elektra looks straight ahead, silently calculating the number of people barricading the hall, wondering if she could push them all away softly or if massacring them all would be acceptable. Their race begins as the next song starts. Decorum grounds them, keeps them from rudely dismissing the people that stop them from exchanging dry conversations and boring greetings. “I’m doing good, yes. I graduated this year. Cold winter indeed.” Cris smiles at Elektra from time to time, and El looks at her as if she’s certain she’s got this challenge under the belt. Like everything else, Elektra loves winning anything that requires physical movements.  

They reach the other side, and her arms reach for two flutes of bubbly that promise not only relief to their dry mouths but respite from their heavy hearts.  

“Truth.” Cris says, without thinking, and before the champagne reaches the bottom of her stomach, a third person is standing next to them, but Cris is somehow invisible to his eyes.  

“I know this isn’t the best time to say this, but I hope you don’t mind seeing me around.”  

  “See me here”
“See me here”
See him here, with that vapid blonde?

Cristina wants to scurry away, feeling her face hot with something like embarrassment. Unfortunately for her, she was caught in Renzo’s frame of vision, and their eyes locked for a moment, so she turns around again, facing Elektra and the man having an intense staring contest, though there was a dangerous, almost nonexistent smile playing on Elektra’s lips.  

  "Are you kidding?” —She finally drawls. Taking the nerve to offer Cristina a wink.  

  “I need to be alone with my hand for a few minutes now.” —Elektra continued. “This kind of sh*t just turns me on." —Cristina is shocked, and she chokes on her drink. She lifts an eyebrow, tilts her chin just slightly up, and makes a contemplative squint of her eyes, and gets the uncomfortable feeling that she sees all the cracks, fault lines, and imperfections that piece Elektra together beneath the surface. Yes, she wanted to crack her open tonight, but not like this!?  

  She remembers then, the mantra she always repeats to save herself from showing too much emotion: You never let them see the cracks, so this sh*tshow ends f***ing now, because no one, not even their exes, or hopefuls whatever they are, have no right to see any of the two them this way, cracked open, vulnerable, with the words dancing on the tip of their tongue, ready to say everything they wanted to say.  

  “Elektra, stop.”  

Elektra’s hands are shaking. She turns them into fists at her sides and spins abruptly on her heel, calling out something over his shoulder. Cris is not even exactly sure what it is that comes out of Elektra’s mouth; she just needs to f***ing get her out of here.  

"shut up." Cristina turns back toward the door, Elektra’s hand in hers, their fingers knitted together, her back straight, head high, and Elektra can't remember a time when Cristina didn't stand like that, perfectly aligned from head to toe, that perky little goddamned nose in the air as she looks back at her, and she sees this little smile of satisfaction.