"I’ll step down as class president. Don’t cry, okay?"

Shortly after the semester began, our homeroom teacher decided to hold a re-election for the entire student council.

Since transferring in, Lucas Powell had been an instant hit. The guys gravitated toward him, and the girls couldn't get enough of his charm. It felt natural for everyone to want someone like him leading the class. Eden Anderson, on the other hand, was too stiff. Her icy demeanor made her hard to approach, and when she handled discipline, she was iron-fisted, never giving anyone a chance to slack off.

Unsurprisingly, the class voted Lucas in as the new president, forcing Eden to accept the only role left: the head of the clean-up committee.

A few troublemakers in class immediately seized the opportunity to mock her, claiming that if she couldn't handle the big stuff, she shouldn't even be in charge of the trash.

When twelve-year-old Eden stood on the podium, straining her voice to command a room full of chaos, she finally understood what the adults meant by "powerless."

No one listened to a word she said. No one cared about her cleaning schedule.

On the day of the big deep clean, led by those same troublemakers, the class scattered the moment they finished their first task. As Eden stood alone, wringing the dirty water out of a mop, she saw Lucas swagger through the door, a basketball tucked under his arm.

"Why are you so annoying?" she snapped at him. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and even though her voice was sharp, the tears betrayed her, rolling down her cheeks.

He looked stunned, completely caught off guard by the sight of her crying. He scrambled over, fumbling for words. "What's wrong? Hey, don’t cry."

"I'm sorry, okay? I'm the worst. Please, just don't cry."

Seeing him panic made her frustration vanish as quickly as it had arrived, and a breathless, watery laugh escaped her.

After hearing what had happened, Lucas used his authority as class president to call a quick meeting during the next break.

"Listen up," he said, his voice steady. "From now on, whatever assignments Eden gives out, you do them. Understood?"

"Why should we listen to her?" one of the ringleaders shouted from the back.

"Yeah, why?"

"Because I'm the class president," Lucas replied, his eyes narrowing, "and even I take orders from her. If I listen to her, what makes you think you don't have to?"

"Ooh—" the boys jeered, teasing him. "Even the president takes orders from her—"

Eden felt her face flush, the heat creeping up her neck as she grew increasingly mortified.

"You're not going to cry again, are you?" Lucas noticed her expression and leaned in, worried. "Seriously, are you?"

How could someone be this infuriating? Eden felt the sting in her nose, her tears threatening to spill over again.

"I’ll tell the teacher I don’t want to be president anymore," he whispered, looking at her with a helpless, pouty expression. "I’ll quit. Just don't cry, okay?"

Once again, his ridiculous theatrics forced the tears back, and she broke into a laugh.

After that day, the boys in the class never gave her trouble again.

A week later, our P.E. teacher, Trevor Campbell, announced that for the rest of the term, P.E. would be dedicated to ballroom dancing. It was a new pilot program for the school's morning activities, and apparently, district officials were coming to evaluate the performance before midterms.

The school required students to pair up boy-girl. The moment the instruction was given, the field erupted into a frenzy.

"Want to be my partner?"

"Get lost, didn't you hear him? Boy-girl pairs!"

"Do you want to ask the sports rep? You should go ask him."

"I'm too scared..."

Students whispered in little cliques. Before long, only Eden and Lucas were left standing alone in the middle of the field.

"Are you all done grouping up? Or is this going to take the whole class?" Trevor blew his whistle, looking impatient. "Starting with the guys, one by one. Who is your partner?"

The teacher turned to Lucas, the tallest in the line. "Who are you with?"

Eden felt the eyes of every girl in the class shift to Lucas. She looked away, staring intensely at her own shoelaces.

"Eden!" a boy beside Lucas suddenly shouted.

The rest of the guys joined in, chanting, "Eden! Eden! Eden!"

She turned, her face burning with embarrassment. She caught Lucas mid-laugh, shoving his friends away, looking over at her with a warm, open expression, clearly waiting for her to say yes.

Eden didn't want to admit it, but at that moment, the rest of the world felt like it had faded into a blurred background. It was just the two of them.

"Alright, you two—front and center," the teacher commanded.

Eden walked out, avoiding Lucas’s gaze, and headed to the open patch of grass. He followed her and stood by her side.

"So glad to be paired with you," Lucas murmured. "I'm counting on you for P.E. class. I'm honestly hopeless at dancing."

So, that was why he picked her.

A sudden, sharp disappointment pricked at her chest, quickly giving way to a ball of anger. She wanted to throw that fire right at him.

Once the rest of the class had paired up, the teacher played the music and signaled for everyone to watch the demonstration.

"Watch twice, then I’ll pick a pair to demonstrate," the teacher said.

Eden’s nerves tightened. She was a leader, but she didn't pick up choreography quickly. She only excelled because she spent hours practicing in private. If she were called up and messed up, what then?

Others could fail. But Eden Anderson couldn't.

"Hey, don't you think this dance is a little..." Lucas leaned in to whisper, but she cut him off immediately.

"Stop talking and pay attention!"

He went quiet instantly.

When the demonstration ended, the teacher asked, "Any volunteers to go first?"

Silence swept through the group.

"Who do you want to see?" the teacher asked the class.

"Eden and Lucas!"

"Lucas and Eden!"

The field erupted.

"They are so annoying," Eden grumbled, her voice barely audible.

"Who? The teacher or the class?" Lucas asked with a grin.

She glared at him.

"Don't look at me like that. I agree—they're all incredibly annoying," he defended.

"Come on, you two. Up you go," the teacher said.

They walked to the front. As the music started, Lucas bowed with a flourish and held out his hand. Eden placed her hand in his. But during the dance, he stumbled repeatedly, nearly tripping her or stomping on her toes.

Nobody cared if Eden missed a step; all eyes were on Lucas’s spectacular failure.

"He’s hilarious. Did he even watch the demo?"

"I feel like Eden is about to snap."

"My goddess is so unlucky..."

"What is wrong with you?" Eden hissed.

"I told you, I'm hopeless at this."

"You can solve advanced calculus problems, but you can't remember a few dance steps?"

"What does one have to do with the other?" Lucas looked genuinely puzzled. "Is there some rule that says being good at math makes you a dancer?"

"Aren't you… embarrassed?" Before she could finish, he shushed her.

"Let’s stop. If we keep going, you’re going to end up exposing yourself."

Eden looked at him, surprised.

"I know you haven't memorized the steps yet, either," he teased.

"Who said I didn't?" she argued, frowning.

Lucas beamed at her. "Let me take the fall for being embarrassed. That's my job."

"Teacher!" he called out, stopping mid-move. "I’m sorry, I really can't do it!"

The teacher sighed, frustrated, and turned to Eden. "You teach him properly after school! We'll try again next time!"

"You got it!" Lucas said, clearly delighted.

After school, Lucas sat on the edge of the track, hands propped behind him, watching as Eden practiced the routine over and over.

"I’ve noticed you’re a real perfectionist," he observed.

"You can go home if you're tired."

"I'll stay," Lucas said. "I’ll keep you company for as long as you practice."

"Why?"

"I don't want to go home and do homework yet," he said, stretching his arms toward the sun with a lazy, content smile. "It's pretty nice out here."

Eden glared at him, but she didn't say another word—she just went back to her practice.