Invictus
-
Captain Canada
Topic author - Posts: 5639
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
Invictus
Zane? Dropping a ball? Never that.
Must be confusing my RTG with Soapy's. Common mistake.
She feeling feelings. Can't fault her for that.
-
Captain Canada
Topic author - Posts: 5639
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
Invictus
But hating on Zane for no reason? The audacity. Bianca a good woman fr, come on now.
Who's team are you on??
-
Captain Canada
Topic author - Posts: 5639
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
Invictus
Season II - Chapter V: Someone To Call My Lover
The late-afternoon sky over Pittsburgh glowed soft and golden, the kind of warm spring light that made everything look gentler than it felt. Bianca watched it blur past the limo window as she adjusted the hem of her dress for the fourth time. Her makeup was flawless, her hair perfect, her dress shimmering - but nothing could fully smooth the tightness still sitting inside her chest.
Ruby hadn’t apologized. Bianca hadn’t either. And the silence between them these past few days, even in group chats, had been its own kind of bruise.
Zane slid in beside her in the limo, adjusting the cuffs of his tailored suit jacket. He looked sharp - clean fade, dark suit, a tie that matched her dress like they had planned it perfectly. But his gaze kept flicking toward her with quiet concern.
“You good?” he murmured, low enough that only she could hear. He placed his hand on her lower back, hoping it provide a calming presence to whatever was storming within her.
Bianca forced a small smile. “Yeah. Just tired.”
He nodded, not pushing, not prying. Zane didn’t do emotional interrogation - not because he didn’t care, but because he never wanted to risk overstepping with feelings he was still learning how to navigate. He simply slipped his fingers between hers under the seat, their hands hidden from everyone else. It was small, but grounding.
Across from them, Ruby and Keon slid into their seats. Ruby looked stunning - emerald fabric catching the light, red curls spilling down her back. She avoided Bianca’s eyes. Keon didn’t notice any tension at all - he was too busy checking himself out in the limo’s tinted window.
“Yo, check this fit,” Keon said, smoothing his lapels. “Man, coaches at Pitt told me I clean up nice. Said I got that ‘future D-I face.’ You know? Marketable.”
Ruby gave him a tight, polite smile. “You look good, babe.”
“Yeah, for real,” Keon said, never breaking eye contact with his own reflection. “But not as good as you. You seen how dudes outside were starin’? I was like - nah, man. That’s mine.”
Ruby giggled, the sound a little stiff. Bianca looked away.
Shayla slid in next, radiant in a silver satin dress, followed by her date, Rory. He was tall and blond with ocean-blue eyes that made him look like he walked off the cover of a college brochure. His calm presence filled the limo instantly - quiet, but with a certainty that was reassuring.
“Hope we’re not late,” Rory said as he took his seat, voice smooth and warm. “My parents insisted on pictures. Like… insisted.”
Shayla laughed, bumping her shoulder against his. “He’s basically a golden retriever in a tux. They couldn’t not take pictures.”
Rory smiled. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It was,” Shayla said quickly. “Promise.”
Keon leaned forward, tapping Rory’s shoulder. “Aren’t you the dude going to Harvard Law or some shit?”
Rory nodded. “Princeton, but yeah, I'm majoring in Law."
“Man,” Keon huffed. “I could’ve gone down that path, but the league wants me too much. Gotta keep the NBA dreams in rotation, you feel me?”
Rory blinked. “Right… sure.”
Bianca hid a smile behind her hand. Zane did the same - his eyes crinkling, even as he stayed quiet.
Ruby finally spoke, still not looking directly at Bianca. “Rory, you’re gonna crush it. Shayla told us you already got scholarship offers.”
Rory shrugged modestly. “I worked hard. Got lucky.”
“You didn’t get lucky,” Shayla corrected him. “You earned all of it.”
The limo fell into a gentle rhythm - Keon talking about the latest news with the Philadelphia 76ers, Shayla and Rory trading soft jokes, Ruby offering occasional compliments, Zane keeping a steady, calming presence beside Bianca.
Bianca leaned slightly into Zane’s shoulder, letting herself rest there for a moment. He didn’t say anything - just gave her hand a small squeeze under the seat. It was enough.
The hum of the engine shifted as the limo slowed, turning down a tree-lined drive. The windows filled with the sight of the dance hall rising ahead - an opulent stone building lit with gold uplighting, fountains trickling in front, and valet attendants guiding cars through the roundabout.
Everyone in the limo straightened at once.
“Woah…” Shayla breathed. “They really did too much this year.”
Ruby’s eyes widened. “It’s giving… royal ball energy.”
Rory chuckled. “Definitely fancier than any dance I ever went to.”
Zane nudged Bianca’s knee with his own. “Ready?”
A soft, uncertain breath left her—but she nodded. “Yeah. I am.”
The limo rolled to a smooth stop in front of the luxurious hall, its doors opening to the echo of cameras, chatter, and the promise of a night none of them would soon forget.
The bass thumped through the chandeliers as the prom night reached its shimmering peak. Laughter echoed off marble floors, clusters of students gathered around photo booths, and the dance floor pulsed with colored light. By all accounts, it was perfect.
Perfect for everyone except Bianca - who kept smiling but never fully felt the smile. Every slow dance, every joke from Shayla, every bite of catered food tasted faintly of the same unease she had carried since the dress-shop argument. She tried to shake it, tried to let the night sweep her away, but the thought kept creeping back:
What if Zane doesn’t see a future with me at all?
Zane, bless him, wasn’t letting her sink. He had been attentive all night, leaning into her, kissing her forehead, pulling her close when the music slowed. Now he was attempting what he claimed were dance moves, but what mostly looked like a confused warm-up routine before a football drill.
Bianca giggled despite herself. “What are you doing?”
“It’s called talent,” Zane said, sliding sideways like he’d studied one YouTube video once. “You wouldn’t understand.”
She laughed - really laughed - and he lit up like he’d scored a touchdown.
Then he spun, misjudged the space, and bumped into someone behind him.
A firm shove hit his shoulder.
Zane turned, irritation ready on his face and froze when he saw who it was.
Malik.
Dressed sharp in a crisp white tuxedo and black tie, locs tied back neatly, expression unreadable but intense. He stood an inch or two above Zane, posture straight as a blade.
“Watch where you’re going,” Malik said flatly.
Zane stepped forward, jaw tightening. “You could’ve just said something.”
“I did,” Malik replied.
Zane’s fists flexed at his sides. “We got a problem now or what? ’Cause the way you’ve been actin’ for weeks - I’m starting to think we do.”
Malik’s eyes flicked over him, calculating. Cold.
“I don’t got a problem,” he said calmly. “I just know what I see.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?”
Malik leaned in - not touching, but close enough that Zane felt the heat of him. “I can smell a fraud when I’m near one.”
Zane’s chest sparked hot. “Say it again.”
Malik didn’t blink. “Fraud.”
Before Zane could move - before he could even think to - Bianca stepped between them, her hand on Zane’s chest, her voice sharp and urgent.
“Stop. Both of you. Not here.”
Zane’s breath came tight, shoulders rigid, eyes locked on Malik over her shoulder.
Malik held his stare for a beat longer, then stepped back, straightening his jacket. “Enjoy your night,” he said coolly, eyes not leaving Zane's burning gaze.
Bianca turned on her heel, face close to Malik's and spoke. "You're lucky I'm here, because I promise you - he would put you through a wall."
Malik kept her stare a moment, before lifting to take one last look at Zane's before he stalked off, melting back into the crowd.
He let her lead him - back to their table at the corner of the hall, where the music felt quieter and the lights dimmer. Zane dropped into his chair, elbows on his knees, trying to breathe the anger out of his system.
Bianca placed a steady hand on his back. “Zane, look at me.”
He did. His jaw was still set.
“You can’t let him get in your head,” she said gently.
“He doesn’t even know me,” Zane muttered. “And he’s already acting like -”
He stopped, swallowed hard, then looked up at her fully.
“What’s going on with you?” he asked quietly. “You’ve been somewhere else all night. All week.”
She didn’t answer at first. Her fingers twisted together in her lap.
“Bianca,” he murmured. “Talk to me.”
She sighed, eyes shimmering with everything she’d tried to hold in.
“When I brought up Michigan,” she said slowly, “and you shut it down, I know it was unfair of me. I know you don’t even have offers yet. I know it’s early.” Her voice trembled. “But it made me wonder if you even see us past this year. If you see, I don't know, anything with me long-term.”
Zane blinked, surprise and hurt flickering across his face. “Bianca… that’s not- I wasn’t trying to make you feel that.”
“But it did,” she spoke, voice just above a whisper. Loud enough for Zane to catch it.
He reached for her hand across the table. She hesitated - only a second - but then let him hold it.
“I don’t know what the future holds,” he said honestly. “Football, recruiting, colleges… it’s all up in the air. I won’t lie to you about that.”
Her eyes dimmed a little - but he held on tighter.
“But I know how I feel about you,” he continued, voice steady now, warm. “I know what you mean to me. And I know I want this. And I want to make it work with you..”
Bianca’s breath hitched. Not because she doubted it - but because she needed it more than she wanted to admit.
She leaned closer, pressing her forehead to his, whispering, “I love you, Zane. So much. And… I want everything with you. I really do.”
His thumb brushed gently over the back of her hand.
“I love you too, Bianca” he said softly. Words he never thought he would get to say, but glad he got to.
And for the first time all night, Bianca felt the tightness in her chest loosen - just enough to let hope breathe again.
The late-afternoon sky over Pittsburgh glowed soft and golden, the kind of warm spring light that made everything look gentler than it felt. Bianca watched it blur past the limo window as she adjusted the hem of her dress for the fourth time. Her makeup was flawless, her hair perfect, her dress shimmering - but nothing could fully smooth the tightness still sitting inside her chest.
Ruby hadn’t apologized. Bianca hadn’t either. And the silence between them these past few days, even in group chats, had been its own kind of bruise.
Zane slid in beside her in the limo, adjusting the cuffs of his tailored suit jacket. He looked sharp - clean fade, dark suit, a tie that matched her dress like they had planned it perfectly. But his gaze kept flicking toward her with quiet concern.
“You good?” he murmured, low enough that only she could hear. He placed his hand on her lower back, hoping it provide a calming presence to whatever was storming within her.
Bianca forced a small smile. “Yeah. Just tired.”
He nodded, not pushing, not prying. Zane didn’t do emotional interrogation - not because he didn’t care, but because he never wanted to risk overstepping with feelings he was still learning how to navigate. He simply slipped his fingers between hers under the seat, their hands hidden from everyone else. It was small, but grounding.
Across from them, Ruby and Keon slid into their seats. Ruby looked stunning - emerald fabric catching the light, red curls spilling down her back. She avoided Bianca’s eyes. Keon didn’t notice any tension at all - he was too busy checking himself out in the limo’s tinted window.
“Yo, check this fit,” Keon said, smoothing his lapels. “Man, coaches at Pitt told me I clean up nice. Said I got that ‘future D-I face.’ You know? Marketable.”
Ruby gave him a tight, polite smile. “You look good, babe.”
“Yeah, for real,” Keon said, never breaking eye contact with his own reflection. “But not as good as you. You seen how dudes outside were starin’? I was like - nah, man. That’s mine.”
Ruby giggled, the sound a little stiff. Bianca looked away.
Shayla slid in next, radiant in a silver satin dress, followed by her date, Rory. He was tall and blond with ocean-blue eyes that made him look like he walked off the cover of a college brochure. His calm presence filled the limo instantly - quiet, but with a certainty that was reassuring.
“Hope we’re not late,” Rory said as he took his seat, voice smooth and warm. “My parents insisted on pictures. Like… insisted.”
Shayla laughed, bumping her shoulder against his. “He’s basically a golden retriever in a tux. They couldn’t not take pictures.”
Rory smiled. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It was,” Shayla said quickly. “Promise.”
Keon leaned forward, tapping Rory’s shoulder. “Aren’t you the dude going to Harvard Law or some shit?”
Rory nodded. “Princeton, but yeah, I'm majoring in Law."
“Man,” Keon huffed. “I could’ve gone down that path, but the league wants me too much. Gotta keep the NBA dreams in rotation, you feel me?”
Rory blinked. “Right… sure.”
Bianca hid a smile behind her hand. Zane did the same - his eyes crinkling, even as he stayed quiet.
Ruby finally spoke, still not looking directly at Bianca. “Rory, you’re gonna crush it. Shayla told us you already got scholarship offers.”
Rory shrugged modestly. “I worked hard. Got lucky.”
“You didn’t get lucky,” Shayla corrected him. “You earned all of it.”
The limo fell into a gentle rhythm - Keon talking about the latest news with the Philadelphia 76ers, Shayla and Rory trading soft jokes, Ruby offering occasional compliments, Zane keeping a steady, calming presence beside Bianca.
Bianca leaned slightly into Zane’s shoulder, letting herself rest there for a moment. He didn’t say anything - just gave her hand a small squeeze under the seat. It was enough.
The hum of the engine shifted as the limo slowed, turning down a tree-lined drive. The windows filled with the sight of the dance hall rising ahead - an opulent stone building lit with gold uplighting, fountains trickling in front, and valet attendants guiding cars through the roundabout.
Everyone in the limo straightened at once.
“Woah…” Shayla breathed. “They really did too much this year.”
Ruby’s eyes widened. “It’s giving… royal ball energy.”
Rory chuckled. “Definitely fancier than any dance I ever went to.”
Zane nudged Bianca’s knee with his own. “Ready?”
A soft, uncertain breath left her—but she nodded. “Yeah. I am.”
The limo rolled to a smooth stop in front of the luxurious hall, its doors opening to the echo of cameras, chatter, and the promise of a night none of them would soon forget.
***
The bass thumped through the chandeliers as the prom night reached its shimmering peak. Laughter echoed off marble floors, clusters of students gathered around photo booths, and the dance floor pulsed with colored light. By all accounts, it was perfect.
Perfect for everyone except Bianca - who kept smiling but never fully felt the smile. Every slow dance, every joke from Shayla, every bite of catered food tasted faintly of the same unease she had carried since the dress-shop argument. She tried to shake it, tried to let the night sweep her away, but the thought kept creeping back:
What if Zane doesn’t see a future with me at all?
Zane, bless him, wasn’t letting her sink. He had been attentive all night, leaning into her, kissing her forehead, pulling her close when the music slowed. Now he was attempting what he claimed were dance moves, but what mostly looked like a confused warm-up routine before a football drill.
Bianca giggled despite herself. “What are you doing?”
“It’s called talent,” Zane said, sliding sideways like he’d studied one YouTube video once. “You wouldn’t understand.”
She laughed - really laughed - and he lit up like he’d scored a touchdown.
Then he spun, misjudged the space, and bumped into someone behind him.
A firm shove hit his shoulder.
Zane turned, irritation ready on his face and froze when he saw who it was.
Malik.
Dressed sharp in a crisp white tuxedo and black tie, locs tied back neatly, expression unreadable but intense. He stood an inch or two above Zane, posture straight as a blade.
“Watch where you’re going,” Malik said flatly.
Zane stepped forward, jaw tightening. “You could’ve just said something.”
“I did,” Malik replied.
Zane’s fists flexed at his sides. “We got a problem now or what? ’Cause the way you’ve been actin’ for weeks - I’m starting to think we do.”
Malik’s eyes flicked over him, calculating. Cold.
“I don’t got a problem,” he said calmly. “I just know what I see.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?”
Malik leaned in - not touching, but close enough that Zane felt the heat of him. “I can smell a fraud when I’m near one.”
Zane’s chest sparked hot. “Say it again.”
Malik didn’t blink. “Fraud.”
Before Zane could move - before he could even think to - Bianca stepped between them, her hand on Zane’s chest, her voice sharp and urgent.
“Stop. Both of you. Not here.”
Zane’s breath came tight, shoulders rigid, eyes locked on Malik over her shoulder.
Malik held his stare for a beat longer, then stepped back, straightening his jacket. “Enjoy your night,” he said coolly, eyes not leaving Zane's burning gaze.
Bianca turned on her heel, face close to Malik's and spoke. "You're lucky I'm here, because I promise you - he would put you through a wall."
Malik kept her stare a moment, before lifting to take one last look at Zane's before he stalked off, melting back into the crowd.
He let her lead him - back to their table at the corner of the hall, where the music felt quieter and the lights dimmer. Zane dropped into his chair, elbows on his knees, trying to breathe the anger out of his system.
Bianca placed a steady hand on his back. “Zane, look at me.”
He did. His jaw was still set.
“You can’t let him get in your head,” she said gently.
“He doesn’t even know me,” Zane muttered. “And he’s already acting like -”
He stopped, swallowed hard, then looked up at her fully.
“What’s going on with you?” he asked quietly. “You’ve been somewhere else all night. All week.”
She didn’t answer at first. Her fingers twisted together in her lap.
“Bianca,” he murmured. “Talk to me.”
She sighed, eyes shimmering with everything she’d tried to hold in.
“When I brought up Michigan,” she said slowly, “and you shut it down, I know it was unfair of me. I know you don’t even have offers yet. I know it’s early.” Her voice trembled. “But it made me wonder if you even see us past this year. If you see, I don't know, anything with me long-term.”
Zane blinked, surprise and hurt flickering across his face. “Bianca… that’s not- I wasn’t trying to make you feel that.”
“But it did,” she spoke, voice just above a whisper. Loud enough for Zane to catch it.
He reached for her hand across the table. She hesitated - only a second - but then let him hold it.
“I don’t know what the future holds,” he said honestly. “Football, recruiting, colleges… it’s all up in the air. I won’t lie to you about that.”
Her eyes dimmed a little - but he held on tighter.
“But I know how I feel about you,” he continued, voice steady now, warm. “I know what you mean to me. And I know I want this. And I want to make it work with you..”
Bianca’s breath hitched. Not because she doubted it - but because she needed it more than she wanted to admit.
She leaned closer, pressing her forehead to his, whispering, “I love you, Zane. So much. And… I want everything with you. I really do.”
His thumb brushed gently over the back of her hand.
“I love you too, Bianca” he said softly. Words he never thought he would get to say, but glad he got to.
And for the first time all night, Bianca felt the tightness in her chest loosen - just enough to let hope breathe again.