Everything changed

chapter 10

chapter 10

Sunlight streamed through the Dome windows the next morning. It was Saturday. Sandra woke to Monica humming softly as she got ready.

No vomiting.

No trembling.

No forced smile.

Just… steady.

“Morning,” Sandra said.

Monica froze. “Morning! Did I wake you?”

“No,” Sandra said gently. “You okay?”

Monica nodded—too quickly. But Sandra didn’t push.

“Better than yesterday,” she whispered.

Sandra smiled. “That’s good.”

Harvey’s message came just before dinner.

You around? Come by my room. Joan and Jess are here.

Sandra hesitated, then replied yes.

The boys’ dorm was quieter than she expected, the hallway lined with identical doors, muted voices leaking through thin walls. She paused at the room number Harvey had sent, lifted her hand, and knocked.

The door opened almost immediately.

It wasn’t Harvey.

Tim stood there instead.

He was in the middle of changing—T-shirt in one hand, hair damp, collarbones exposed, the sharp lines of his shoulders catching the light. He froze when he saw her.

So did she.

“Oh,” Sandra said quickly, heat rushing to her face. “I—Harvey invited me. I can—”

“It’s fine,” Tim said, just as fast. He stepped back, pulling the shirt over his head in one smooth motion. “He’s in the bathroom.”

The silence that followed was thick and charged.

Sandra stood awkwardly by the door, suddenly hyperaware of her hands, where to look. Tim leaned against the desk, arms crossed, watching her—not guarded like before, just… attentive.

“You can take a seat,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

She sat opposite him. “Okay.”

A corner of his mouth lifted. That small motion made her heart stumble, annoyingly.

Harvey’s voice echoed faintly from the bathroom. “I’ll be out in a sec!”

Tim glanced toward the sound, then back at her. Their eyes locked for a beat too long.

Up close, she noticed details she hadn’t before—the faint scar near his wrist, the way his expression softened when he wasn’t bracing against the world.

“You were impressive today,” he said quietly.

“With the committee?” she asked.

He nodded. “Emily didn’t expect that.”

Neither did you, she almost said—but didn’t.

“Neither did I,” she replied instead.

Another pause. Not uncomfortable this time. Just… electric.

The hallway outside the bathroom was quiet again. Sandra shifted her weight from one foot to the other, suddenly very aware of the small space between them.

Tim didn’t move. He just leaned against the desk, arms crossed, watching her with that unreadable expression.

“I… I didn’t know what to expect today,” Sandra admitted, her voice low, almost trembling. She hated that it sounded vulnerable, hated that she wanted him to understand anyway.

Tim’s brow lifted slightly. “Expect from me?” he asked. His tone was soft, teasing just enough to make her stomach twist.

“No,” she said quickly. “From… everything. The committee. People. I guess I didn’t expect to… handle it okay.”

“You did,” he said quietly. His gaze softened in a way that made her chest tighten. “I didn’t think you’d stand your ground like that. Most people… crumble under that kind of pressure.”

Sandra blinked, unsure whether to feel proud or embarrassed. She swallowed hard. “Thanks… that means something.”

Tim tilted his head, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “It should. You’ve got more… steel than you let on.”

Her lips parted slightly, wanting to respond, to argue, to deny it—but she didn’t. She only felt the weight of his eyes on her, and the quiet hum of electricity in the space between them.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she finally asked, a whisper, though her pulse betrayed her nerves.

Tim chuckled, low and ironic. “Like what?”

“Like… like I’m… I don’t know. Like I’m more than I am,” she said, words tripping over themselves.

He shook his head, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Sandra… teenage crushes are weird. People throw themselves at each other, make dramatic confessions, write dumb poetry… then regret it or get their hearts broken.”

Sandra blinked. “So… you don’t—”

“Don’t what?” he asked lightly, leaning back, tone teasing but calm.

“Don’t… like this?” she said softly, heart thumping.

Tim’s gaze flicked away for a moment, just long enough that she caught a shadow behind his eyes—something he didn’t say. I can’t do this. I can’t let myself get tangled up… not now. I’ve got to think bigger. Be more than this.

When he looked back, the teasing smile was back. “I’m just saying… high school drama is overrated. Better to survive it without unnecessary heartbreak, don’t you think?”

Sandra laughed quietly, the tension breaking just a little—but the electricity still hummed, tight and insistent, beneath it all.

Footsteps echoed in the hallway. Harvey’s voice came first, calling from the bathroom, then the chatter of Joan and Jess.

Tim straightened slightly, his smile fading into calm composure. “Looks like your audience is here,” he said lightly.

Sandra exhaled, almost disappointed. The spell was broken, but the pull lingered, twisting tight in her chest. She followed him to the desk, forcing herself to laugh at Harvey’s jokes, but every so often her eyes drifted to Tim—and she knew she’d remember this quiet, charged moment for far longer than she should.

Harvey finally emerged from the bathroom, hair damp and slightly mussed, a towel draped over his shoulder. Joan and Jess trailed behind, chatting and laughing, filling the room with their usual chaotic energy.

Sandra followed, trying to fold herself into the group, but she couldn’t ignore Tim, who stayed leaning casually against the desk.

As Harvey reached for a snack, his elbow brushed hers. She flinched slightly and looked down—but Tim’s hand, resting near hers on the desk, brushed her fingers ever so briefly. A flicker of warmth shot through her, making her stomach clench. Just an accident, she told herself. But the pull lingered.

Tim shifted his weight to reach for a notebook, and their knees touched lightly under the desk. He didn’t flinch; neither did she, though her pulse spiked. Their eyes met for a fraction of a second. That fleeting glance lasted long enough for her to feel it, for him to raise an eyebrow almost playfully, then look away as if nothing had happened.

Sandra laughed at one of Harvey’s jokes, but her gaze kept drifting to Tim. He caught her looking, just for a heartbeat, and tilted his head slightly, that sardonic half-smile tugging at his lips. Her chest tightened. Stop noticing every little thing, she thought, but she couldn’t.

Joan dropped a bag of chips near the desk, and Sandra bent to pick it up. Tim’s hand brushed hers again as he reached for the same bag. They froze for a split second, just long enough for her to feel the spark of electricity hum through her fingers. He pulled back first, smoothly, pretending to be casual, but Sandra’s fingers lingered in the empty space for a moment longer than necessary.

Harvey was mid-story, waving his hands dramatically as Joan and Jess laughed. “…and then I told him, ‘No way you’re pulling that stunt again!’”

Sandra chuckled politely, leaning forward to grab a chip from the bag. She didn’t notice Harvey’s glance lingering on her a little too long.

Tim’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. He leaned back against the desk, arms crossed, voice low but sharp enough for only Harvey to hear: “You do realize she’s not a trophy, right?”

Harvey froze mid-gesture, eyes darting between Tim and Sandra. “What—no, I—come on, man, I’m just telling the story…”

Tim’s gaze didn’t waver. “Yeah, telling the story. At her. The one she didn’t ask to be the punchline for.”

Sandra blinked, a little shocked, her cheeks warming. She wasn’t used to seeing this side of Tim—protective, teasing, sharp. Joan tilted her head, noticing the tension, and Jess gave a quiet, amused snort.

Harvey laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay, okay! Chill, man. I was joking.”

“Sure,” Tim said, smirk tugging at his lips. “Just don’t act like being dramatic counts as flirting. It’s… weird.”

Joan whispered to Jess, a sly grin on her face: “Did you see that? He’s… weirdly protective.”

Jess nodded, eyes on Tim. “Yeah, like he actually cares… but he’s hiding it behind sarcasm.”

Sandra’s heart did that quick flip again. She couldn’t stop herself from sneaking a glance at him. Tim caught it, raising an eyebrow, the smirk still there, almost daring her to say something.

Harvey, flustered, tried to regain control of the conversation, but the shift was already noticeable. Sandra could feel the subtle pull—the way Tim’s eyes lingered on her, the quiet tension in his posture, the small but unmistakable warning: hands off.

Even in a room full of chatter and laughter, the air around Sandra and Tim felt charged, electric, and slightly dangerous.