I started small.
Little things, harmless things.
The way Aria would tuck her hair behind her ear when she was thinking, or how her voice tilted upward at the end of a sarcastic remark, like she was both mocking and daring the world to correct her. The way she'd lean back during lectures, arms folded, one eyebrow raised, as if the professor's every word were an inconvenience to her intelligence.
I practiced in secret, my dorm room mirror when the school was asleep.
Tucked my hair. Raised my brow. Crossed my arms, leaned back, studied the reflection until my chair nearly toppled and I caught myself laughing quietly, like a fraud.
It felt stupid.
But I kept doing it.
Then came the clothes.
Not duplicates, that would have been too obvious, but similar styles.
Worn jeans instead of my usual slacks.
Band shirts instead of blouses. Shoes that collected dirt because she never bothered to clean hers.
When Aria noticed, she smiled that easy, sun-warmed smile.
