**ESTE**

**——————**

“James,” I start, mustering up all of the politeness I can to plead to him, “can you _please_ hand me a Dr. Pepper?”

After 30 minutes of repetitive silence, I finally speak up. A few of the others glance up at me, just to realize I’m not talking to them and go back to what they were doing.

The blonde villain throws me an annoyed look over his shoulder, to which I almost don’t catch as I twist on the stool to look at him. Still, he complies, opening the fridge to slip two 20 oz bottles from the door of it.

I scramble to move my sketchbook and make room for him as he brings over the drinks.

“Thank you, Your Villainy,” I comment as he hands me one of the carbonated drinks.

James’ gaze lingers on my latest mask design. A masquerade mask.

My most recent mask became too heavy, hindering my ability to fight.

How embarrassing.

James backs away slightly, pointing a finger at the sketch with the Dr. Pepper bottle in hand.

“Don’t you think clay would weigh the mask down?” He pauses dramatically, as I slowly process his words. “How would a string hold it up?”

“That makes no…”

My brain finally registers the idea.

Oh.

He’s right.

Before I react, I unscrew the lid of the bottle and take a sip of the carbonation.

_James_ is right?

I look down at my list of resources, grabbing my pencil to hastily flipping it from the point and completely demolish the paper by erasing.

As I rewrite the main material, I can practically feel James’ eyes boring into my figure.

I must look _enchanting_. Sweatpants. Oversized t-shirt. Wet hair, courtesy of the shower only half an hour before. Hunched over a sketchbook. Drinking a Dr. Pepper.

“I was right,” he comments, as he draws my eyes back to him by leaning on the counter of the island. For some reason, only a faint smile resides on his facial expression.

I look away and shift on the stool. “I know.”

Almost immediately, I can feel the swap in his demeanor. I see it from the corner of my eye and hear it almost simultaneously. His breathing is shaky. The ghost of a smile disappears. A tightness reaches his shoulders.

“Are you ready for tomorrow?” He asks, his voice a low murmur as he drags a finger along the cap line of his Dr. Pepper.

In no way was this supposed to be flirtatious. James and I used to date, before we became villains, then we resided to the friends zone. And yet… I can’t help but think he might still have a crush on me.

Suddenly, I realize he meant this as a question, to which I do clumsily reply.

“You mean the war?”

A low hum sounds in his throat. My eyes dart back up to his. His silver eyes are locked on the pattern of the marble counter, his eyebrows drawn together.

We’re not meant to go to war. We all know that.

I take another sip of my Dr. Pepper, this time it burns a path down my throat. An intense wave of emotion hangs in the room, we all know this isn’t supposed to happen.

We’re too young… _right_?

“I don’t think I’ll ever be ready,” I reply, the rest of the sentence hanging on my tongue. _I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to win a war we were always meant to. _“We’re only teenagers, James. War is like a game, and we’re first time players— the heroes may have lost the hundreds of battles beforehand, but underdogs are still capable of winning if they know the game.”

James nods understandingly, but the room goes even more quiet than usual.

The words hang heavy in the space, as everyone takes in their meaning.

Does that make sense?

“James… did— could you even understand what I meant? Even I was a little confused by that…”

My ex chuckles, emotionless, somehow managing to look wildly attractive while doing it. Does he understand the concept of chuckling? Or deadpanning?

“Look, Este.” James leans forward, inching closer to me to whisper, “You will always make sense to me.”

My whole body stills. The words play a spell along the entirety of my being, but it needs to stop.

“Well…” I mumble, abruptly trying to change the topic, “I need to work on my mask. Can’t fight without it. That’s what Code says.” With that, the spell is shattered.

The silver-eyed villain beside me slides off of his stool, and I just now remember how tall he is.

“Alright,” James huffs, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans, “I’ll leave you to it then, Este.”

“Thank you.” My attention is directed back to the counter, with the sketchbook laid across it.

It takes me a second to hear James ask another question. “Do you want me to grab all of the materials?”

“That would be nice.”

I don’t look at him though. Heartbreak is only necessary once.