#rebelde

You nervously start your first day at Elite Way, in the middle of the semester. This wasn't what you were hoping for but both your parents were actors and chose to move to Mexico for work, so you weren't left with much of a choice.

Although the move won't be permanent you are willing to make the best of it, especially after convincing your parents to drop thousands of dollars to enlist you in one of the most prestigious art schools in the country. If you were going to spend a semester in Mexico you might as well get the best musical education you could find.

The worst part about moving in the middle of classes was being the only one carrying your luggage around the halls, you'd think for such an expensive school they could have someone escort your stuff, instead you were stuck wandering the halls with a crumbled map in your hands trying to make sense of all these directions.

"Hmm, can I help?"

You hear a masculine voice mutter and raise your gaze.

"Uh- yeah please, I'm just trying to find my dorm but this paper doesn't really help."

As you struggle to keep your belongings together, the mysterious guy grabs the suitcase handles from you.

"My name's Miguel, I could show you to your dorm since you seem in dire need of help."

Not knowing if you should feel offended or grateful, you just awkwardly smile and express your gratitude.

He escorts you around the school while babbling about all the different programs and types of people who attend the school. You try to focus but your eyes are too busy scanning the scenery, the bright yellow walls and school emblems everywhere making you hopeful that you came to just the right place.

"Aaand this is your room."

Miguel neatly leaves your luggage at the door before furrowing his brows at the sight of your room number.

"You're Roberta's roommate?" he sarcastically chuckles mid-sentence. "Good luck."

You spent some time organizing your things, whatever Miguel meant by Roberta she wasn't here yet, so you had all the time to put your things away and wonder what the hell that was about.

It didn't take long before you found a place for everything, you're used to packing light, no point in bringing so much stuff when you're just going to leave anyways.

Many were jealous of your lifestyle before, some thinking you're just a nepo baby who gets to travel everywhere with her parents. Truth is, you haven't seen them in months. They rarely bother speaking with you, most of the time it's their agent Stacy, who practically communicates anything they have to say and also basically raised you.

Just as the thought of her pops into your mind you get a text, you check your phone.

"Speaking of the devil," you mumble to yourself.

Stacy

"Hey honey how are you settling down at school? Your parents are sending you an allowance for the rest of the semester it should reach your account soon"

"PS Lmk if you date any famous musicians kid LOL"

You heart react to her message and move on with your day, as corny as you thought her humor was Stacy always looked out for you, and you knew you could rely on her more than anyone else.

After spending some time in your room you decide to explore around school, technically classes had already started but since it was your first day you had the liberty to walk around without being reprimanded.

After a couple of minutes of aimlessly walking around you hear music down the hall, drawn by the sound you walk toward it.

The song leads you inside a dancing studio, that's when your eyes land on the redhead singing and dancing in front of the mirror, she seemed focused and carried away by the music.

You scanned her from waist down, for a second your mind started to wonder but you were quickly interrupted by the ringing of your cellphone.

You quickly jog outside of the studio afraid of getting caught mid-stare down with the mysterious girl.

You check your phone and see a missed call from your mother. You roll your eyes, not bothering to read whatever text she left and go back to your room.

It was starting to get a little late, you spent the rest of the afternoon practicing your guitar in your dorm with your headphones on, that's when your roommate walks in.

Startled by the noise of the door opening you look over at the entrance and see none other than the girl from the studio.

I guess she's Roberta, you think to yourself.

She stands there with her bag hanging off one shoulder, staring at you like she was trying to figure out what exactly she had been assigned to live with.

Her eyes eventually fall on the guitar in your lap.

"You play?"

You pull one side of your headphones off.

"Yeah."

She nods, seemingly unimpressed.

"Cool."

You stare at her.

"That's it?"

She raises an eyebrow.

"What?"

"I don't know, you asked me if I play and then just said cool."

"What did you want? A fucking parade?"

You scoff.

"Never mind."

"Good."

She throws her bag onto her bed, and the silence that follows is somehow more awkward than the argument.

You go back to playing, trying your best to ignore her.

For a few minutes you actually manage.

Then you feel her staring.

You glance up.

She's still looking at you.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"You're staring."

"I'm not."

"You literally are."

She rolls her eyes and looks away.

"You always talk this much?"

"Only when people annoy me."

That earns a small smirk from her.

"Then you're gonna hate living with me."

You don't know why, but you smile.

"Something tells me I already do."

Her smile grows.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

She looks at you for a second longer than necessary.

Then she looks away.

"Good."

You don't know why that one word suddenly makes your stomach feel weird.

The next few days are... interesting.

That's the nicest way you can put it.

You and Roberta can't seem to go more than ten minutes without getting on each other's nerves.

She steals your food.

You hide her hairbrush.

She blasts music while you're studying.

You purposely sing along just to annoy her.

She calls you princess.

You call her a menace.

Neither of you ever actually gets angry enough to stop.

If anything, the arguments become something you start looking forward to.

"You ate my chips."

Roberta looks up from her bed, completely unbothered.

"Yeah."

"You didn't even ask."

"You weren't here."

"That doesn't mean you can just eat my stuff."

She shrugs.

"Buy more."

You grab a pillow and throw it at her.

She catches it against her chest and laughs.

"You are so annoying."

"And yet you're still talking to me."

You open your mouth to answer but nothing comes out.

She notices.

For once, she doesn't tease you.

There's a strange little silence between you.

Then she smiles.

"Thought so."

You roll your eyes, turning back toward your desk so she can't see the smile threatening to appear on your face.

It becomes a routine.

And somewhere along the way, you stop thinking of her as the roommate you were warned about.

She's just Roberta.

The girl who wakes you up by stealing your blanket.

The girl who somehow knows when you're upset even when you don't say anything.

The girl who leaves her guitar on your side of the room because she knows you'll play it.

And maybe that's why you start noticing things you shouldn't.

The way her hair falls over her face when she's concentrating.

The way she bites her lip when she's trying not to laugh.

The way her voice gets softer when she's talking about something she actually cares about.

You hate that you notice.

Mostly because you don't think she notices you the same way.

Or maybe she does.

You're not sure.

One afternoon, you're sitting in the music room alone when Roberta walks in.

She doesn't say anything.

She just closes the door behind her and leans against it.

You look up.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"You look mad."

"I'm always mad."

"Fair."

She rolls her eyes and walks toward you.

"Play something."

"You always tell me to play."

"Because you're good."

The compliment catches you off guard.

You look down at the guitar.

"Thanks."

She sits beside you.

Closer than usual.

Your shoulders brush.

Neither of you moves.

You start playing, but you're suddenly painfully aware of how close she is.

You can smell her perfume.

You can feel the warmth of her leg against yours.

And when you look over, she's already looking at you.

Neither of you says anything.

The music slowly fades beneath the sound of your own heartbeat.

"What?" you whisper.

She shakes her head.

"Nothing."

"You keep doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Looking at me like that."

Her expression changes.

"Maybe I like looking at you."

Your fingers stop moving against the strings.

Roberta seems to realize what she's said.

She immediately looks away.

"Forget it."

You don't.

You don't know what possessed you, but you reach over and gently move a strand of hair away from her face.

She freezes.

You freeze too.

For a second, neither of you breathes.

Her eyes flick down to your lips.

And suddenly the room feels way too small.

"Tell me to move," you whisper.

She doesn't.

Instead she leans in.

Just enough for her lips to barely brush yours.

It's so quick you almost convince yourself you imagined it.

Then she kisses you again.

This time she stays.

Your hand instinctively finds her waist, and her fingers curl around the fabric of your shirt.

The kiss is soft, almost hesitant, nothing like the girl who argues with everyone she meets.

For those few seconds she's completely still.

No sarcasm.

No attitude.

Just Roberta.

And when you pull away, you're both staring at each other like neither of you knows what the hell just happened.

She lets out a nervous laugh.

"Don't."

You blink.

"Don't what?"

"Look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you actually liked it."

You smile.

"Maybe I did."

She rolls her eyes, but she's smiling too.

"You're impossible."

"You kissed me."

"You kissed me first."

"You leaned in."

"You didn't move."

You both stare at each other.

Then you start laughing.

She tries to hide her smile, but you catch it anyway.

"Nobody can know," she says quietly.

You raise an eyebrow.

"Why?"

"Because."

"That's not an answer."

"Just... because."

There's something vulnerable in her voice that makes you stop teasing her.

You nod.

"Okay."

She looks at you for a moment.

"Okay."

And somehow that one word feels more intimate than the kiss.

After that, nothing really changes.

And everything changes.

You still argue.

She still steals your food.

You still call her annoying.

She still calls you princess.

Except now sometimes your hands brush when you pass each other in the hallway and neither of you pulls away immediately.

Sometimes you catch her staring.

Sometimes she catches you doing the same.

Sometimes, late at night when you think she's asleep, you feel her shift closer on the other side of the room.

Neither of you talks about the kiss.

Not because you regret it.

But because saying it out loud would make it real.

And you're both a little terrified of what that means.

A few days later, you come back to the dorm after a particularly bad phone call with your mother.

You throw your phone onto the bed and wipe underneath your eyes before Roberta can notice.

Of course she notices.

"What happened?"

"Nothing."

"Don't do that."

You look at her.

"Do what?"

"That thing where you pretend nothing's wrong."

You sigh and sit down.

"My mom."

She doesn't ask for details.

She just sits beside you.

For once, she doesn't make a joke.

She doesn't tell you to get over it.

She just sits there.

Your shoulders eventually relax.

"I hate that she can ruin my entire day with one phone call."

Roberta looks down at her hands.

"Yeah."

You glance at her.

"Yeah?"

She shrugs.

"I get it."

The quiet between you feels different this time.

Comfortable.

You rest your head against her shoulder.

She stiffens for half a second before relaxing beneath you.

Neither of you says anything.

Then you feel her hand slowly find yours.

Her fingers slip between yours.

You look down.

She's staring straight ahead, pretending like she's not doing anything.

You smile.

"You're not very good at pretending you don't care."

She squeezes your hand.

"Shut up."

You laugh quietly.

And for the first time since you arrived at Elite Way, Mexico doesn't feel so far away from home.

Maybe you don't need to know what this is yet.

Maybe you don't need to put a name on it.

Because for now, you're happy sitting beside her in the quiet, your fingers tangled together, knowing that underneath all the arguing and sarcasm, Roberta chose to stay.

And maybe tomorrow you'll argue again.

Maybe she'll annoy you.

Maybe you'll annoy her right back.

But when you look over at her and catch that tiny smile on her face, you know one thing for sure.

You don't hate your roommate anymore.