Nothing happened

“Were you guys photographing fairies today?”

Mira looked up from the timetable.

Rain had darkened the shoulders of her jacket and curled several strands of hair against her cheeks. Something silver caught beneath the shelter’s fluorescent light.

“Huh? No. My teacher would never come up with such a fantastic idea for a workshop.”

“Then why do you have glitter in your hair?”

“I do?”

Mira dragged her fingers through it. They came away damp and sparkling.

“Oh, right. I thought the stickers needed more shine, so I added glitter during lunch.”

“What stickers?”

“The ones with that cute tiger from the movie we watched last month. Natalie mentioned her sister loved that big cat.”

Lena didn’t look nearly as surprised as the question made her out to be. “And you made stickers for her?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ve never met Natalie’s sister.”

Mira adjusted the strap of her camera bag. A plastic folder peeked out from inside, the edges of several sticker sheets visible beneath the flap. The tigers on them had different expressions and poses. One wore a crown. Another had fallen asleep inside a teacup. 

“She likes the tiger.”

Lena stared at Mira’s glittered hair, then laughed.

“You really have nothing better to do after school, do you?”

Mira wiped her hand against her jeans, leaving a faint silver streak across one thigh. “I see no better way to spend my time.”

Movement across the road caught Lena’s attention. Her expression brightened. 

“I see one right now.”

A couple had run out from beneath the university arch with a single umbrella between them. The wind turned it inside out before they reached the crossing. The girl stopped and stared at the bent metal ribs. Her companion looked from the umbrella to her, tossed it aside and offered his hand with an exaggerated bow.

She laughed and took it.

They began to dance in the rain.

For a while Lena and Mira watched without speaking. The girl’s red dress clung darkly to her legs, then flared each time she spun. Her partner’s blond hair had fallen into his eyes. Neither appeared particularly skilled. They nearly collided twice.

“Isn’t that wonderful?” Lena asked. “It’s like a scene from a movie.”

“Yeah.” Mira tilted her head. “It would look beautiful on a long exposure. The colours would bleed into the rain and make a sort of rainbow around them. Her red dress contrasts nicely with the blue-grey background. His hair adds some pop of freshness near the top too.”

Lena turned to stare at her.

“Only you would watch a couple dancing in the rain and start picking apart the colour theory.”

“What? It’s a lovely picture.”

“Yeah, it is.” Lena’s gaze drifted back toward them. “A dance in the rain. I wish I could do that.”

“I don’t see anyone stopping you.”

“Well, I don’t see any boy asking me to dance.”

“Ah, right. My mistake.” Mira nodded gravely. “I forgot people are incapable of spinning themselves. Very difficult to keep balance.”

“It’s not about spinning.” Lena folded her arms. “It’s about having someone there who’ll remember it with you.”

“You’ll remember it.”

Lena sighed. “That’s not the same.”

“Why not?”

“It just isn’t.”

The girl in red attempted a turn beneath the boy’s arm. Her shoe slipped against the road, and she dragged him down with her. They landed in the shallow water by the curb.

A taxi honked.

The couple scrambled onto the pavement, soaked through and laughing as though nearly being run over had improved the experience.

Lena pressed a hand to her chest. “That’s adorable.”

“The palette isn't as lovely anymore.”

Lena ignored her. “Do you think Adrien would do that with me?” 

“First date being a dance in the rain?” Mira watched the boy try to wring water from his sleeve. “He’d definitely remember it.”

“That is not what I meant.”

“You said you wanted him to remember it.”

“I want him to remember me fondly, not as the girl who dragged him into a storm before we even went for coffee.”

“Then ask him for coffee.”

“I can’t just ask him.”

“Why?”

“Because then he’ll know.”

Mira waited.

Lena did not elaborate. She only drew her coat tighter around herself and watched the couple disappear beneath the awning of a café.

Mira pulled out her phone.

Lena’s eyes narrowed. “What are you doing?”

“I’ve been looking for an excuse to try a rain photoshoot.”

“No.”

“And you’re both pretty.”

“Mira.”

“So naturally, I need to ask you both to model for me.”

“No.”

The word came out longer this time. Lena reached for the phone, but Mira turned away and continued typing.

“Why not?”

“Because what if he doesn’t want to?”

“Then I don’t have a second model.”

“No. Then he says no, I die, and you have no model.”

“That does complicate matters, since I already asked him.”

Lena’s mouth fell open.

“You what?”

Mira smiled. “I type fast.”

It was a small smile. Innocent enough to be insulting.

“Give me that phone.”

“No.”

“I need to see exactly how badly you ruined my life.”

Lena lunged.

Mira twisted away, raising the phone above her head. Lena caught the sleeve of her coat and nearly dragged them both beyond the shelter. Mira braced one foot against the bench, laughing as Lena tried to climb around her without stepping into the rain. 

“You are shorter than me,” Mira informed her.

“I have rage on my side.”

“That’s happiness, your brain is just confused."

“Give it—”

The phone buzzed.

Both of them froze.

Mira did not look at it.

“He’s quick.”

Lena took a step back. “What? That’s him?”

Mira finally checked the message. “Yep. I was right.”

“No, don’t tell me.” Lena turned around at once, both hands over her ears. “I don’t want to know.”

“Okay. But wear something pink for the session. It complements your complexion.”

Lena slowly lowered one hand. “He said yes?”

“Well, I can’t tell you.”

“Mira, sweetheart, I am seconds away from either murdering you or building you an altar.”

Mira turned the phone toward her.

Lena read the message.

“Oh my God.”

“Altar, then?”

“He said he’d love to.”

“That was my impression.”

“He said love.”

“He said he’d love to help with the photoshoot.”

“Okay. Okay, so pink. You said pink, right? Soft pink or raspberry pink?”

“Raspberry. The softer one washes you out.”

“And you just happened to remember that?”

“I have eyes. And I spent hours colour-correcting your photos the last time you wore soft pink.”

Lena pressed the phone to her chest, smiling now despite every effort not to.

“Raspberry pink, rain photoshoot, Adrien saying he’d love to…”

“You’re already planning the wedding, aren’t you?”

“Not the wedding.” Lena glanced toward the café across the street. “Yet.”

The girl in red had appeared behind the steamed-up window. She was twisting water from her hair while the blond boy held out a bundle of napkins to her.

Lena watched them for another moment.

“But when I finally manage to trick Adrien into dating me, we should do this properly. You and Simon, me and Adrien. Just the four of us.”

“The four of us,” Mira repeated.

“A proper double date in the rain.”

“And if there aren’t four?”

“Then we reschedule.” Lena shrugged. “I’m not making one person stand there while the other two dance.”

Mira looked down at the silver streak across her jeans. She rubbed it with her thumb, spreading the glitter farther into the denim.

“What?” Lena asked. “You don’t think Simon would agree?”

“Simon and I aren’t together anymore.”

The rain battered the roof hard enough to fill the pause for them. 

“What?”

“We broke up.”

“When?”

“A couple of weeks ago.”

“A couple of—” Lena turned fully toward her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I mean, we’re still friends. We’re just not kissing or holding hands anymore.” Mira adjusted the strap of her bag. “It’s not really that big of a deal.” 

“Of course it’s a big deal. Sweetheart, you shouldn’t be going through that alone.”

“It’s really okay—”

“You broke up with your boyfriend of over a year.”

Mira’s shoulders drew in slightly. “I know.”

“You had that trip planned for next week. What happened?”

“We’re still going.”

“You’re still going on holiday together?”

“We already paid for the hotel.”

“Together?”

“We just won’t sleep in the same bed.”

“But I don’t understand. Why?”

Mira frowned as though the answer should have been obvious.

“Because we’re not a couple anymore, so we don’t have to?”

“No, that’s not—” Lena exhaled and pressed her fingers against her forehead. “Why did you break up? What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing happened.”

“But if nothing was wrong, why break up?”

Mira said nothing.

A drop of rain slipped through a crack in the shelter roof and struck the bench between them. Another followed, darkening the wood in a slow, spreading circle.

Lena’s irritation receded.

“Did he do something?”

“No.”

“Did you fight?”

“Not really.”

“Did he pressure you into something?”

Mira shook her head softly. “No. Simon was good to me.”

“Then I don’t understand.”

“I know.”

The answer came quieter than the others.

The electronic display changed from DELAYED to SEVEN MINUTES.

Neither of them acknowledged it.

Lena shifted closer. “People don’t end good relationships for no reason.”

“Do people stay in relationships for no reason too?”

“People don’t start relationships without one.” Lena hesitated. “Did you?”

“He asked me out.” 

“Yeah, he asked you out cuz he wanted to see if you guys could build a life together.” 

Mira rubbed her thumb over a fraying seam on her jeans. “What if I didn’t want to build that?”

Relief loosened Lena’s face, the problem finally taking a shape she recognised. “Then Simon wasn’t the right person.”

“Right.”

“Sweetheart.” Lena stepped closer, nudging their shoulders together. “You spend half your life making things with other people. Imagine what you could build with someone who understood all of you.”

Mira watched separate streams of rain run down the glass and join near the bottom.

“Different people understand different parts.”

“Exactly. You need one person who can keep up with that crazy brain of yours.”

“It’s not crazy. You guys are just blind.” Mira pointed toward the road. “You walk around in red-tinted heart glasses and hope you don’t get flattened by a car.”

“Said the only person in our friend group who owns red heart-shaped glasses.”

“I look amazing in them.”

“You do.” Lena pulled out her phone. “Your music school posted the photos from the last concert.”

Mira’s head snapped toward her.

“Please tell me I’m not in any of them.”

“You are. Quite a few, actually.” Lena swiped through the post and held up the screen. “Girl, the stage presence. The outfit.”

In the photograph, Mira stood beneath a blue stage light with one hand wrapped around a microphone. The heart-shaped glasses covered half her face. Gold lines climbed one leg of her blue trousers, splitting into painted branches near the hip.

Mira took the phone.

“Oh, they caught the trousers properly.” Her voice lifted for the first time since Simon’s name had entered the conversation. “The paint cracked during rehearsal, so I had to strip the whole side and mix fabric medium into the second layer. Though I wasn’t sure the gold would show under blue light.”

“It shows. You look incredible.”

“And the back of the shirt.” Mira swiped to another photograph. “There. I painted the design at three in the morning because you sent me that video and—”

Lena watched her talk, smiling as Mira zoomed in on the back, then the glasses, then a small stitched symbol near the collar.

“Change your profile picture to one of these and boys will line up,” Lena said. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll attract some bad boy from a band.”

The phone lowered slightly.

“Right.”

Mira’s smile stayed for half a second longer than the light behind it.

“Also, your pronunciation was good. It almost sounded like you understood what you were singing.”

Mira laughed.

“Yeah? Did you understand it?”

“Of course I did. Mostly.”

“Go on, then.”

Lena raised her chin. “You sang about being queen of the ring and winning with half-assed knockouts.”

“Wow. I’m impressed.” Mira tucked loose hair behind her ear, dislodging another piece of glitter. “So when are we going to Japan?”

Lena barked out a laugh. “Absolutely not. I’m not that fluent.”

“Said the person who understood me mimicking sounds to the best of my ability while fighting for air.”

“You did a fairly good impression of not struggling at all.”

“It was the glasses. They hid the fact that I couldn’t lift my eyes off the floor.”

They laughed until the shelter roof began rattling again and Lena had to wipe rainwater from beneath her eyes.

The display changed.

TWO MINUTES.

Mira looked at it. Then at Lena.

“Hey.”

“Mm?”

“Are we still going to be friends after school is over?”

Lena frowned. “What sort of question is that?”

Mira shrugged, eyes fixed on the road. “People get busy.”

“So?” Lena tucked her phone away. “We have the photoshoot on Friday. You promised to come to the exhibition with me next month, and I’m still forcing you into the gym every Tuesday.”

“I said every second Tuesday.”

“Every Tuesday.”

“I said I’d think about it.”

“You’re coming. And Natalie wants us both at her exhibition opening.” Lena began counting on her fingers. “Then there’s the trip in August, assuming you don’t become too famous to answer messages before then.”

Mira’s shoulders loosened.

“Okay.”

“And stop looking so sad.” Lena nudged her shoulder. “You can always talk to me. Even if you think something isn’t important.”

Mira looked down at the glitter caught beneath one fingernail.

Lena squeezed her arm.

“You’re lovely. You’re talented. You’re beautiful. You’ll find someone one day.”

The bus appeared at the end of the road.

Its headlights cut through the rain and stretched over the pavement. It drew up beside the shelter with a hiss, sending water over the curb.

The doors folded open.

Lena stepped aboard, still digging through her bag for her card. She reached the first pair of empty seats before noticing Mira had not followed.

She turned.

Mira remained beneath the shelter, canvas bag pressed beneath one arm.

“Aren’t you coming?”

“I think I’ll walk.”

“In this?”

Mira looked toward the street. Red from the traffic lights spread across the wet pavement, bleeding into gold beneath the lamps.

“Yeah.”

The warning tone sounded above the bus doors.

Lena held the rail and hesitated.

“Friday,” Mira reminded her. “Raspberry pink.”

“And Tuesday,” Lena answered. “Gym.”

Mira lifted one hand, silver glitter sticking to her fingers.

“I'll remember.”