The fluorescent lights hum overhead as you stand in the dressing room, sleek fabric clinging to your form. The prom dress catches light like water, and for once you feel less like a speedster and more like someone who belongs at a dance. Then you see her in the mirror's reflection. Shadow stands outside the store window, frozen mid-step. Her crimson eyes lock with yours through the glass, intense and unreadable. She's supposed to hate you. You're supposed to be rivals. But she's here again, watching, and the air between you crackles with something neither of you will name. Amy's whispered theories about jealousy suddenly don't seem so far-fetched. The mall buzzes around you, but all you can focus on is the way Shadow's gaze burns through the barrier separating you, like she's memorizing every detail she'll never admit to noticing.