Threads Of Forever

The Dance of Rivals

London, 2025

The sound of the wheels grinding against pavement echoed through the empty alley, sharp and crisp, like a sudden burst of energy in the otherwise still evening. Carter leaned back against the brick wall, grinning to himself, eyes sparkling with a mischief that never seemed to leave him. He'd just nailed the trick he'd been practicing all week-a complicated flip, his skateboard twisting through the air with precision before landing perfectly beneath his feet. The crowd of onlookers had cheered, but now the street was quiet again, the rush of adrenaline settling into his bones.

"Oi! You gonna try it again, or are you done impressing everyone with your moves?" a familiar voice called out from behind him.

He turned, eyes glinting with that signature smirk. Elle stood there, arms crossed, her posture tense as usual, her brow furrowed with a combination of annoyance and intrigue. Her ballet slippers, worn and scuffed from years of use, clacked against the pavement as she walked toward him, her movements sharp, precise, as though every step was calculated for maximum control.

"You're always watching," Carter teased, his grin widening. "Can't get enough, huh?"

Elle's lips twisted into a tight, thin smile, the kind that only barely hinted at amusement. "I'm just making sure you don't break your neck," she retorted, her voice laced with an edge. "Not all of us have the luxury of acting like an idiot in public."

He chuckled, pushing off the wall and coming closer to her. "Well, maybe if you loosen up a bit, you'd understand the fun in it," he said with a wink. "You could even give it a try. I bet you'd look pretty cool on a board."

Elle shot him a withering look, her eyes narrowing. "I'm not here for that." She shifted her weight, her posture as stiff as ever. "I'm here for practice. Unlike you, I actually take my craft seriously."

Carter leaned in slightly, teasing, "Come on, just one try. A ballerina on a skateboard-it would be something."

Elle didn't respond immediately. She simply turned her back to him, her face a picture of silent frustration. Carter had always been this way-charming, teasing, always pushing her buttons, always acting like the world was one big joke for him to laugh at. And while part of her hated it, another part-hidden deep down-couldn't help but notice the way he carried himself, the way his easy confidence seemed to unravel the world around him. The way he made everything seem so effortless.

She couldn't let him see that side of her, though. She wouldn't.

"I don't have time for your nonsense," she muttered, turning back toward the nearby ballet studio.

He followed her, his tone light but insistent. "Hey, don't act like you don't enjoy it. I see the way you look at me when you think I'm not paying attention."

Elle stopped, mid-step, her eyes flashing with irritation. "You don't know anything about me."

"Oh, I think I do," Carter shot back, his voice teasing but oddly sincere. "I think you're just as stubborn as I am. You hide it behind all that attitude, but I see it. You can't fool me."

Elle's heart skipped a beat at his words, a sensation that caught her off guard. She opened her mouth to argue, but the words stuck in her throat. Why did it feel so much harder to push him away than she had imagined?

"You think you know me?" she repeated, her voice quieter, more guarded. "I don't care about your opinions, Carter. So, keep your observations to yourself."

"Whatever you say, Elle," Carter grinned, clearly unbothered. "But I think we both know I'm right."

As she entered the studio and pushed open the door, she didn't look back at him. She refused to. She would not let him get under her skin-not again.