Rain started halfway through the drive ho.
Nothing heavy.
Just a steady drizzle streaking across the windshield while traffic crawled through downtown streets.
Alex sat with her debate folders against her lap, shoes kicked halfway off beneath the passenger seat.
For once, she looked tired instead of sharp.
Not physically.
ntally.
"You destroyed that guy tonight," Gael said while stopping at a red light.
Alex let out a quiet breath through her nose.
"He deserved it."
"That sounded automatic."
"It was automatic."
The answer ca flatter than usual.
Gael glanced sideways briefly.
Normally after debates she stayed energized for hours, replaying argunts and picking apart mistakes like she enjoyed the competition itself.
Tonight she just looked drained.
"You okay?"
Alex stared out at the rain-covered streetlights for a second before answering.
"Yeah."
Short.
Imdiate.
Unconvincing.
Gael waited.
Eventually she sighed softly and leaned her head back against the seat.
"Do you know how exhausting it is being 'the smart one' all the ti?"
There it was.
Not sarcasm.
Not banter.
Real frustration.
The light turned green again.
Cars moved slowly forward through the rain.
"At school it's debate rankings and grades," Alex continued quietly. "At ho it's being compared to Haley constantly."
That caught his attention imdiately.
Alex almost never talked about this directly.
"She's the fun one," Alex said with a faint smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'm the impressive one."
"That sounds oversimplified."
"It's also true."
The windshield wipers moved steadily through the silence that followed.
"I know Mom and Dad love us equally," she added after a second. "But people react differently to us."
Gael stayed quiet, letting her talk.
Because it sounded like she'd been holding this in for a while.
"When Haley screws up, everybody laughs." Alex looked down at the folders in her lap. "When I screw up, it becos surprising."
"And eventually," Alex continued, "you start feeling like you're only valuable when you're doing sothing impressive."
The car slowed again at another intersection.
Rain blurred headlights across the glass in soft streaks of white and red.
Gael finally spoke.
"That's not how your family sees you."
Alex laughed quietly.
"No. That's how the world sees ."
For the first ti since he t her, she sounded genuinely uncertain.
Not defensive.
Just a teen.
That realization shifted sothing subtly in his chest.
"You know what the worst part is?" she murmured.
Gael looked at her.
"I don't even know who I am when I'm not competing with soone."
The sentence stayed in the car for a mont afterward.
Heavy enough that neither of them rushed to move past it.
Then Gael spoke carefully.
"You're calr around your family than you think."
Alex frowned slightly.
"What does that an?"
"You stop performing around them."
That pulled her attention toward him fully now.
Gael kept his eyes on the road.
"At debate tonight, every sentence sounded calculated." He shrugged lightly. "At ho you argue about cereal and threaten Luke with violence."
"That's because Luke deserves violence."
"That's my point."
For the first ti all evening, Alex smiled properly.
Small.
Real.
And sohow that looked stranger on her than sarcasm did.
"You make things sound simpler than they are," she said quietly.
"No. I think you make them harder than they are."
Another silence settled after that.
But softer now.
The kind that cos after finally saying sothing out loud.
Then Alex leaned back into the seat again and looked out at the rain.
"You know what's annoying?"
Gael laughed imdiately.
"You almost made it the whole conversation."
She rolled her eyes slightly.
"I'm serious."
"Go ahead."
Alex watched the blurred city lights outside the window for another second before speaking.
"I don't usually like people seeing when I'm like this."
Gael glanced sideways briefly.
"Like what?"
"Tired enough to stop pretending I have everything figured out."
The honesty in the answer caught him more off guard than anything else she'd said tonight.
Because Alex rarely gave people pieces of herself that weren't polished first.
And sohow, sowhere along the way—
she'd started trusting him with the unfinished versions instead.
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