The next morning, I float into school still wrapped in the warmth of Felix's words. I'm falling in love with you too. The memory makes my chest tight in the best possible way.

I'm at my locker, fumbling with my combination because I can't stop smiling like an idiot, when I catch a whiff of expensive vanilla.

My stomach drops.

"Margot." Sienna's voice is honey-sweet, the kind that makes your teeth ache. "Do you have a minute?"

I don't turn around. "Not really."

"I think you'll want to hear this."

Something in her tone makes me close my locker. Slowly. When I face her, she's perfect as always—honey-blonde waves cascading over her shoulders, designer sweater that probably costs more than my entire vintage wardrobe, that practiced smile that never reaches her calculating blue eyes.

"What do you want, Sienna?"

"To help you, actually." She examines her manicured nails. "I know about the film club's... precarious situation. My mother mentioned that several clubs are being reviewed for budget cuts. Non-essential activities, you understand."

My heart stutters. "The film club is essential."

"To you, maybe." She shrugs, elegant and dismissive. "But the school board looks at numbers. Attendance. Relevance. Impact." Each word lands like a knife. "Your little club doesn't exactly make waves, does it?"

I want to argue, but my throat is tight. She's not wrong. We've grown, but we're still small. Still niche. Still vulnerable.

"However," Sienna continues, "I could help with that."

"Why would you help me?"

Her smile sharpens. "Because I'm not unreasonable, Margot. I actually admire your dedication. It's almost... quaint." The word drips with condescension. "So here's what I'm proposing: I'll fully fund your silent film festival. Professional equipment, advertising, the works. I'll even have my mother advocate for the club at the board meeting. Guarantee its survival."

My pulse pounds in my ears. "In exchange for what?"

"Felix accompanies me to Winter Formal." She says it casually, like she's discussing the weather. "And whatever you two have going on? It ends."

The hallway tilts.

"I saw you yesterday," she adds, unnecessarily. "In the archive room. Very sweet, really. But Felix and I have history. We make sense together—same social circle, same ambitions, same world. You're a lovely detour, but let's be honest about what this is."

My hands are shaking. I shove them in my cardigan pockets.

"He'll say no," I manage.

"Will he?" Sienna tilts her head. "When you tell him it's the only way to save the club? The thing you care about most in the world?" She leans in, vanilla perfume overwhelming. "We both know you'll push him away eventually anyway. Your mother left, your grandfather died—you don't actually believe anyone stays, do you?"

The words hit like a physical blow.

She's right.

God, she's right, and I hate her for it.

"Think about it," Sienna says, already turning away. "The board meeting is next week. Clock's ticking, Margot."

She disappears down the hallway, leaving me drowning in vanilla and panic.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

I can't think straight through morning classes. My mind spins with impossible calculations—the club versus Felix, my grandfather's legacy versus my own selfish happiness, the safe choice versus the terrifying one.

By lunch, I've convinced myself that Sienna was bluffing.

Felix would never consider her offer.

Would he?

I'm heading to the film club room when I hear his voice around the corner. And hers.

I freeze.

"You can't be serious," Felix says, and there's an edge to his voice I've never heard before.

"Completely serious." Sienna's tone is business-casual. "Winter Formal. One date. And the film club gets everything it needs."

"In exchange for dumping Margot."

"In exchange for being realistic about your priorities."

There's a pause. My heart hammers so hard I'm surprised they can't hear it.

"You're insane," Felix says finally.

"I'm practical. There's a difference." Rustling fabric—is she touching him? "Come on, Felix. You're not actually falling for the weird girl who lives in the past, are you? She's a project. A phase. We both know how this ends."

Another pause.

Longer this time.

Too long.

"Sienna—"

I don't wait to hear the rest.

I turn and walk away on legs that don't feel like mine, my grandfather's pearl earrings cold against my neck, old books and jasmine tea replaced by the acrid taste of bile.

He hesitated.

He actually hesitated.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The projection booth becomes my cave. I skip the rest of lunch, skip my afternoon classes, hide in the dusty darkness surrounded by film reels and broken dreams.

Stupid. I was so stupid.

Of course he'd consider it. Why wouldn't he? Sienna's right—they make sense together. Same world, same language, same future. I'm just the quirky detour, the indie film you watch once and forget.

My mother's face flashes through my mind. The way she looked at me that last morning, like I was already a ghost. Like leaving me was easier than staying.

Everyone leaves eventually.

I should have remembered that.

The door opens. Cedar and orange zest flood the small space.

"There you are." Felix sounds relieved. "I've been looking everywhere—"

"Don't." My voice comes out flat. Dead. "Just don't."

"Don't what?" He moves closer. I feel his body heat in the cramped booth, and I want to lean into it and run from it in equal measure. "Margot, what's wrong?"

I push my glasses up my nose. "Nothing. Everything's fine."

"You're lying."

"Maybe I'm just being realistic." The word tastes like ashes. "About what this is."

Silence. Then: "What the hell does that mean?"

I finally look at him. His hair is more disheveled than usual, like he's been running his hands through it. His warm brown eyes are confused, concerned, searching mine for answers I can't give.

"It means we were kidding ourselves." I'm amazed at how steady my voice sounds. "We don't make sense, Felix. We never did. You're—" I gesture vaguely at all of him. "And I'm me. This was always going to end."

"Margot—"

"The problems of two people don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world." The quote slides out automatically, a shield I've perfected. "We had fun. It was nice. But let's not pretend it was something it wasn't."

His face changes. The confusion hardens into something else.

Anger.

"Are you seriously quoting Casablanca at me right now?"

"I'm just—"

"No." He steps closer, and there's nothing gentle about it. "No, you don't get to do that. You don't get to hide behind dead people's words when things get scary."

My breath catches. "I'm not—"

"You are." His voice rises. "You're doing exactly what you always do. Something gets real, and you retreat into your fucking film fortress where nothing can touch you."

"That's not fair—"

"Fair?" He laughs, bitter and sharp. "You want to talk about fair? I told you I was falling in love with you. Yesterday. Yesterday, Margot. And now you're quoting breakup lines from a seventy-year-old movie like we're characters in one of your precious films instead of real people with real feelings."

Tears burn behind my eyes. I will them away. "You don't understand—"

"Then explain it to me!" The words echo in the small space. "Use your own words. Tell me what's actually happening here."

I can't.

The truth is too big, too raw, too terrifying. That I heard him with Sienna. That he hesitated. That everyone always hesitates before they leave, and I can't survive being left again.

"I heard you," I whisper instead. "With Sienna. She offered you a deal."

Understanding crashes across his face. "Margot—"

"You hesitated."

"For two seconds! Because I was too shocked to—"

"Everyone hesitates." My voice cracks. "Before they leave. My mom hesitated too, that last morning. Stood in the doorway for a full minute before she walked out. I used to think that minute meant something. That she almost stayed."

"I'm not your mother."

"No. You're just someone who'll eventually realize I'm not worth the effort."

The words hang between us like smoke.

Felix stares at me, chest heaving, hands clenched at his sides. When he speaks, his voice is low and dangerous.

"You want to know what I told Sienna? After you ran away instead of listening?"

I don't answer.

"I told her to go to hell. I told her that her money and her connections and her perfect fucking hair didn't mean shit to me. I told her I'd rather watch the film club burn to the ground than spend one second pretending to be interested in her."

Oh.

Oh no.

"But here's the thing, Margot." He's not yelling anymore. Somehow that's worse. "I can't fight for us if you're already halfway out the door. I can't prove I won't leave if you're too busy leaving first."

"I'm not—"

"You are. You've been doing it since the day we met. Keeping me at arm's length with your movie quotes and your emotional walls and your absolute certainty that everyone abandons you." His eyes are blazing. "Well, guess what? You're right. If you keep pushing me away, eventually I'll go. Not because I want to. But because I can't love someone who won't let themselves be loved."

The tears spill over. I can't stop them.

"I'm scared," I choke out. The truth, raw and ugly. "I'm so fucking scared, Felix."

His expression softens, just slightly. "Of what?"

"That you'll see me. Really see me. And realize I'm not worth staying for."

"Jesus Christ." He runs both hands through his hair, making it stand up in dark spikes. "You really don't get it, do you?"

"Get what?"

"I already see you, Margot. All of you. The brilliant, prickly, terrified, beautiful disaster that you are." He steps closer, close enough that I can feel his breath on my face. "And I'm still here. I'm still choosing you. Over Sienna, over easy, over everything."

"For now."

"For now," he agrees, and the honesty of it cuts deeper than any lie. "Because that's all anyone can promise. But you know what? Now is pretty fucking good."

I want to believe him.

God, I want to believe him so badly it physically hurts.

But the scared animal part of my brain is screaming at me to run, to hide, to protect myself before he can destroy me.

"I need time," I whisper.

"Time for what?"

"To think. To figure out—" I gesture helplessly. "Everything."

Felix's jaw tightens. "You're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"Sabotaging us. Creating distance where there doesn't need to be any." He steps back, and the loss of his warmth feels like winter. "Fine. Take your time. Think. Hide in your movies and your dead grandfather's legacy and your certainty that everyone leaves."

"That's not fair—"

"No, what's not fair is loving someone who's already written the ending." His voice breaks on the last word. "I'm not your mom, Margot. I'm not going to walk out that door and never come back."

He heads for the exit.

Pauses with his hand on the doorknob.

"But I'm also not going to keep fighting for someone who won't fight for themselves."

The door closes behind him with a soft click.

I sink to the floor, surrounded by film reels and dust and the ghost of my grandfather's pipe tobacco, and let myself shatter.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The film club room feels different without Felix's chaos. Quieter. Emptier. Like a held breath.

I throw myself into festival planning with manic energy. If I just work hard enough, focus enough, maybe I can outrun the ache in my chest.

Sienna's offer sits in my mind like a tumor.

Save the club. Lose Felix.

Except I've already lost him, haven't I? By being exactly what he accused me of—a coward hiding behind other people's stories.

Three days pass. Felix doesn't come to film club.

The other members notice. Ask questions I can't answer.

I watch All About Eve alone in the projection booth, and Bette Davis's voice cuts through me: Fasten your seatbelts. It's going to be a bumpy night.

Grandpa Arthur loved this one. The story of an ambitious newcomer who destroys everything the protagonist built. Who worms her way in with sweetness and leaves devastation in her wake.

Sienna isn't Eve, though.

I am.

I'm the one destroying this. Sabotaging the best thing that's happened to me since Grandpa died because I'm too broken to accept that good things can stay.

My phone buzzes.

*Sienna: Tick tock, Margot. Board meeting is Monday. Have you made your decision?

I stare at the message until the words blur.

The club or Felix.

My grandfather's legacy or my own future.

Safety or risk.

My hands shake as I type back.

Me: I need to talk to Felix first.

Sienna: Of course. But don't take too long. Opportunities expire.

I set the phone down and press my forehead against the cool metal of the projector.

On screen, Eve Harrington smiles her calculated smile, and I understand her completely.

Sometimes the villain isn't the one who takes things.

It's the one too afraid to hold onto them.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

I find Felix in the woodshop after school.

The scent of cedar fills the space, sawdust catching the late afternoon light. He's bent over a piece of wood, sanding with focused intensity, and doesn't look up when I enter.

"Felix."

His shoulders tense. "I'm busy."

"I know. I just—" My voice catches. "I'm sorry."

"For which part?" He still doesn't look at me. "For assuming I'd betray you? For pushing me away? For not trusting that I meant what I said?"

All of it.

"I'm scared," I say again, because it's the only truth I have. "And I don't know how to not be."

Finally, he looks up. His eyes are tired, guarded in a way they've never been with me before.

"I can't fix that for you, Margot. You have to choose not to be scared."

"It's not that simple—"

"Yeah, it is." He sets down the sandpaper. "You either trust me or you don't. You either believe I'll stay or you don't. You either take the risk or you hide forever."

"And if I take the risk and you leave anyway?"

"Then at least you'll have tried." His voice softens. "At least you'll have lived instead of just watched life happen from behind your camera."

The words land like a punch.

Because he's right.

I've been a spectator in my own life for so long I've forgotten how to be a participant.

"Sienna's mother is proposing cuts at Monday's board meeting," I say quietly. "The film club is on the list."

Felix's expression doesn't change. "I know."

"How—"

"I'm not an idiot, Margot. I figured out what Sienna was playing at." He crosses his arms. "And I meant what I told her. I'd rather lose the club than lose you."

My heart clenches. "You don't mean that."

"I do. Because the club isn't what matters." He steps closer, and I can smell cedar and orange zest and everything I'm terrified of losing. "You are. Us. This thing we're building that's real and messy and scary as hell."

"The club was my grandfather's—"

"Your grandfather is dead." The bluntness of it steals my breath. "I'm sorry, but he is. And you're not. You're alive, Margot. Right here, right now. And you get to choose what matters."

Tears stream down my face. "I don't know how."

"Start by trusting me." He reaches out, hesitates, lets his hand drop. "Start by believing that some people stay."

I want to.

God, I want to so badly.

But Sienna's message burns in my pocket, and Monday looms like an execution date, and I'm so tired of being afraid but I don't know how to be anything else.

"I need—" I start.

"Time. I know." Felix's smile is sad. "You always need time."

He turns back to his woodworking, and the dismissal is clear.

I leave the shop with cedar in my lungs and my heart in pieces, no closer to an answer than before.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

That night, I sit in my room surrounded by photographs of Grandpa Arthur. His kind eyes stare out from frozen moments—teaching me to thread film, laughing at a Buster Keaton pratfall, standing proud in his Projection Booth Operator jacket.

What would you do? I ask his silent image.

But I know what he'd say.

He'd tell me that the best films are the ones where the protagonist takes the risk. Where they choose love over fear, connection over safety, life over mere survival.

He'd tell me that holding onto the past means losing the future.

He'd tell me to let go.

My phone buzzes again.

Sienna: Last chance, Margot. What's it going to be?

I stare at the message for a long time.

Then I type three words that feel like jumping off a cliff.

Me: I choose Felix.

Her response is immediate.

Sienna: Then I'll see you at the board meeting. I hope your little love story was worth it.*

I set the phone down with shaking hands.

I just signed the film club's death warrant.

Destroyed the last piece of my grandfather I had left.

For a boy who might leave me anyway.

But for the first time in three years, I'm not hiding behind someone else's words.

I'm living my own story.

Even if it ends in tragedy.