Chapter 6: Neon Reflections — Sofia’s POV
788 Words
There’s a certain kind of silence that isn’t actually quiet.
It looks quiet. Feels quiet. But underneath it?
It’s loud.
That’s what this is.
I lean back against the mirror in the dressing room, arms crossed, watching Luna pretend to fix something that does not need fixing.
Her hair has been “almost done” for the past five minutes.
Which, for the record, is insane.
“You know,” I say casually, “if you brush it any more, it’s going to file a complaint.”
“I’m not brushing it that much,” she mutters, not even looking at me.
I raise an eyebrow at her reflection. “Luna.”
She pauses.
Just for a second.
Then resumes, slower this time. “What?”
I grin slightly. “Something’s going on.”
That gets her attention.
She stops completely, lowering the brush and finally meeting my eyes in the mirror.
“No, there’s not.”
That was fast.
Too fast.
I push off the mirror, stepping a little closer, tilting my head like I’m examining a very obvious problem.
“Okay,” I say. “Let me rephrase.”
She narrows her eyes slightly.
“There is definitely something going on.”
“There isn’t.”
“You and Liam?”
“Nothing is happening.”
I hum, like I’m considering that very seriously.
“Right. Nothing. Totally.”
She turns around fully now, crossing her arms. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”
“Because,” I say, holding up a finger, “you look at him like—”
“I don’t look at him any differently.”
“—and he looks at you like—”
“He does not.”
“—and then both of you forget how to function like normal human beings.”
“That’s not true.”
“It is painfully true.”
She exhales sharply, turning away again, grabbing her bag like she suddenly has somewhere very important to be.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says.
I watch her for a second.
Then I smile.
Oh, this is fun.
“You missed your cue earlier,” I add lightly.
She freezes.
Just barely.
“I said sorry,” she replies.
“Yeah, you did. Immediately. Like you were trying to erase it from existence.”
She slings her bag over her shoulder. “It was just a mistake.”
“Mhm.”
I let the silence stretch just a little before I step closer again, lowering my voice—not serious, just softer.
“You don’t make mistakes like that.”
She doesn’t respond.
Which is an answer.
“And neither does he,” I continue. “But he missed a line right after.”
That makes her look at me again.
There it is.
That flicker of something.
Confusion. Curiosity. Something she doesn’t want to name.
“It doesn’t mean anything,” she says, but it’s quieter this time.
I shrug. “Maybe not.”
I let that sit for a second.
Then—
“But it’s kind of a funny coincidence, don’t you think?”
She hesitates.
And for a moment, I almost think she’s going to say something real.
Instead, she shakes her head.
“You’re reading too much into it.”
“Am I?”
“Yes.”
I smile again, softer this time. Not pushing—just letting it exist.
“Okay.”
She watches me like she’s waiting for me to argue.
I don’t.
That’s the trick.
You don’t push too hard.
You just… plant the idea.
Let it grow on its own.
We stand there for a second, the hum of the lights filling the space between us. The mirror catches both of us—her standing a little too still, me watching a little too closely.
Neon reflections bouncing off the glass, making everything feel a little more unreal than it actually is.
“Can I ask you something?” I say.
She hesitates. “What?”
I tilt my head slightly. “If there’s nothing going on…”
I pause just long enough to make it matter.
“Then why does it feel like there is?”
She doesn’t answer.
Of course she doesn’t.
Instead, she looks away, adjusting her sleeve like it suddenly needs her full attention.
And that?
That’s all I need.
I grin, grabbing my own stuff and heading for the door.
“Come on,” I say over my shoulder. “We’re gonna be late.”
She follows a second later.
Quiet.
Thinking.
I don’t say anything else.
I don’t need to.
Because now it’s in her head.
And once it’s there—
It’s not going anywhere.
- Writer
