Chapter Text
Earth sits between Venus and Mars, and once every 7,850,130 years the three planets align perfectly. Tonight was that night.
Penelope Featherington was standing at the edge of the campus ballroom, already irritated because he was laughing with half the judges while she was trying to focus. It was so typical for guys like Colin Bridgerton to charm their way into getting what they wanted instead of actually putting in the work.
It was like his stupid smile blinded everyone within a five-mile radius. No one seemed to notice his frame collapsed every time he turned or that he rushed the rise in the Waltz. If Penelope pointed it out, she would be accused of nitpicking. Jealousy, even. Meanwhile, Colin could over-rotate, flat-foot half a routine, and still walk away with a trophy because he did it while flashing a grin at the judges.
She was pretty sure he was never punished as a child either.
Across the ballroom, alumni and former international champion Kathani Sharma threw her head back laughing at something Colin said. Penelope instantly rolled her eyes. When she glanced over again, she found him watching her.
Penelope immediately looked away, trying to hide how much his behavior affected her.
Colin and his dance partner Michaela Stirling were the only ones standing between her and the opportunity to represent their school at the International Ballroom Dance competition in Brazil at the end of the month. Of course Penelope wanted the shining trophy with her name on it, but even just qualifying and being among the best would look great on the scholarship that was up for renewal based on her accomplishments during her freshman year.
Penelope needed this.
The moment she was sure Colin’s attention had moved elsewhere, she looked back. Unfortunately, someone else noticed.
“If you stare a little longer you might drill a hole in his forehead,” Phillip said, crossing his arms as he came to stand beside her. “I mean, I’m not discouraging it. But if you are planning a killing, you should make it less obvious.”
“I hope you brought as much sway as sarcasm,” she said, forcing a smile.
“Wow, I didn’t know you had a sense of humor on competition day,” Phillip teased back.
She and Phillip had practically grown up dancing together and teased each other like siblings. Her mother had put them in all sorts of dance competitions over the years. Since Penelope was not pageant royalty material like her older sisters, Portia had focused her ambitions elsewhere. She had a talent for spotting potential and an even greater talent for imagining how she might benefit from it someday.
But while her mother had dreamed of Broadway, Penelope fell in love with ballroom instead, which was a considerably less glamorous world. Not that it stopped Portia from dreaming big and eventually creating a five-year-plan to get Penelope on Dancing With the Stars.
“And I didn’t think Kate Sharma knew how to smile. She always gives me the RBF. Which I honestly respect, she has a very good one,” Penelope started rambling as she usually did when she was nervous. “It’s just weird that they are a little too intimate, right?”
“If I didn’t know better, I would say someone is jealous.” He raised his brow.
“Please,” Penelope scoffed right away. “There’s just too much at stake and I’m worried we won’t be judged fairly. Wait, wasn’t she dating his older brother? I’m pretty positive that it’s a conflict of interest.”
“Trust me, Colin being related to Anthony actually works against his favor if anything,” Phillip exhaled.
“Oh. So you are cozy with the Bridgertons now?” Penelope narrowed her eyes.
“Why are you saying their name like they are collectively the enemy? Are all of the Bridgertons off limits?”
“I cannot believe you,” she shook her head.
“There are a lot of them, I’m just curious.”
“Eloise Bridgerton is freaking ‘Bluebelle’ on your phone, isn’t she?”
Phillip winced at the accusation, only confirming it.
“Unbelievable. That explains your extended office hours, I guess. Is that why she loves texting you during our practices? To distract you so her brother stands out?” Penelope was rambling again. “You don’t tell her about our routines, do you?”
“Easy there, Sherlock,” he chuckled, putting both hands on her shoulders and leaning down to be face to face with her. “Eloise couldn’t care less about ballroom dancing, even less so what Colin’s choreography is. Actually, no one takes it that seriously… Except you.”
Penelope sighed and looked down at her feet. She hated that he was right, but maybe that was the problem. She knew she was being obnoxious, but it mattered too much for her to act like it wasn’t a big deal.
“You used to care,” she replied, her voice quieter. “It’s how we got here together, right? Are you trying to say you’re quitting?”
“I care about you. I wouldn’t be doing this otherwise.”
The knot in her chest loosened slightly.
He pulled her into a hug and kissed the top of her head. “I’m not going anywhere, P1.”
—
“What’s the deal with those two?” Colin asked approaching Michaela, who was stretching on the side of the ballroom, as he watched Penelope and Phillip hug.
“You have to be more specific than that,” Michaela replied with a small grin, raising a brow.
“They don’t usually hug like that, do they?” Colin crossed his arms.
She stopped her stretch and looked in Penelope and Phillip’s direction. “Did I miss something? When did you start caring if they hug?”
“I don’t. It just threw me off.”
“Mm. Maybe they are pulling out all the stops to win tonight.” She shrugged.
“Pfft. We’ve got this in the bag, partner.” Colin preened, rolling his shoulders back. “A sponge and a cardboard have more chemistry than them.”
Michaela rolled her eyes, not in the least convinced. “I wouldn’t be so sure. The panel is very technical. Even you can’t deny they’ve got their steps down to precision.”
“Hotshot over there can’t be charismatic enough to save her life, though. You know that’s at least half the battle.” He smirked, more to himself.
Across the ballroom, Phillip still had his arms around Penelope, but now she was looking up at him laughing at something he said and for a moment looked entirely different.
Then she noticed the judges beginning to gather and immediately became terrifying again.
It wasn’t that he disliked Penelope Featherington. She simply made it remarkably easy to forget her better qualities. Sure, she was objectively attractive and smart, but her thirst for blood and winning, and knack for standing between him and what he wanted reminded him too much of Anthony.
Being a “pretty Bridgerton” came with a lot of expectations. Everyone had their thing in the family, and ballroom dancing was Colin’s. Edmund had always encouraged his children to pursue their passions and interests—and be the best at them. Colin hadn’t thought much of it when his father was alive. After his death, however, those words became heavier.
He had the means to pursue anything he wanted, which somehow made failure feel even less acceptable.
So he chose something he could see himself practicing for ten thousand hours, and then spent most of his life doing exactly that.
Now he was about to enter his senior year. He had represented the university in competitions for the past several years and had been waiting for the opportunity to compete internationally and cement his place among the best collegiate dancers in the world.
Colin needed this.
“She has talent, she doesn’t have to smile. Plus, with the right neckline, no one’s looking at her lovely face anyway.” Michaela pointed out, giving Penelope a slow sweep with her eyes.
Colin scoffed, offended on principle. “Are you seriously thirsting over the competition now?”
“First, we all go to the same school.” Michaela tilted her head thoughtfully. “Second, as someone who works in the campus Mental Health Resource Office, it is my duty to inform you that you should seek professional help if you get this riled up about ballroom dancing.”
“You seem to forget that ‘My enemy shall be thy enemy’ has been in our friendship bylaws ever since James Stanton put gum in your hair,” he defended weakly. “And you work the front desk.”
“Okay, Spirit Fingers, we're not in fifth grade or a 2000s teen movie. No one has enemies anymore.” She sighed dramatically. “And who do you think updates all the brochures? I’m basically an honorary counselor.”
“The point is...” He inhaled.
His eyes drifted back toward Penelope.
Honestly, he couldn’t remember how this discussion had started.
“The point is,” he said, straightening, “we’re better. Overall. And that’s why we’re going to win.”
“Does it really matter who gets to go? I mean, I would love to go to Brazil, but we can also go any time just for fun.” She shrugged. “What is it with you Bridgertons and being obsessed with winning?”
He stared at her. “Who are you and what have you done with Machine Gun Mich? I was really counting on MGM to help me crush the competition tonight.”
“She’s still here and ready to give her all. She just won't act like her life is over if she comes in second.”
Colin huffed and puffed out his chest, looking away from his partner. This was not how he had envisioned the conversation going.
He and Michaela had been friends for years. They balanced each other out, which was probably why they worked so well as partners. She kept him from taking himself too seriously, and he pushed her to care when she pretended not to. They could argue about anything for hours and still leave laughing.
Tonight, however, she seemed determined to psychoanalyze him, and Colin had no interest in being her patient.
The competition was about to start.
He just wanted to get this over with.
—
“It’s a tie,” Kate announced unceremoniously, glancing between the two pairings.
Colin and Penelope immediately went pale, while Michaela and Phillip merely exchanged knowing looks.
Kate was about to continue when Penelope interrupted.
“I—I’m sorry, but there are no ties in ballroom dancing.” She gave a nervous laugh. “That isn't how this works.”
“You want to explain the rules to me, Miss Featherington, or may I keep going?” Kate shot back, the corner of her mouth twitching.
Penelope pressed her lips together and nodded once.
“As I was saying,” Kate resumed, taking her sweet time now and basking in their anxiety a little. “The panel decided not to employ any tie-breaking procedures. It was previously announced that the winning pair would automatically qualify for the international competition, but after watching the performances, we no longer believe that is the best way to select the dancers who will represent this team.”
Colin and Penelope looked like they were physically bothered by the news, while Michaela and Phillip exchanged another look of solidarity.
“You can't just change the criteria at the eleventh hour,” Colin protested. Then added, less confidently. “Can you?”
Kate smirked.
“This isn't an official competition. We can do whatever we believe is best for the university. And we have decided it would be best if both you and Miss Featherington competed in Brazil.”
Penelope frowned. “So... the four of us are going?”
“No.” Kate extended a hand toward Colin and another toward Penelope. “We mean that you and Mr. Bridgerton have just been paired together.”
Phillip brought a hand to his mouth to hide his laugh, Michaela made no such effort.
For a long moment, Colin and Penelope simply stared.
“Say that again.” Colin blinked. “You want us to do what?”
“Make us proud, of course.” Kate said brightly. “You are the two strongest dancers on this team, and you just proved it once again. It would be ludicrous not to put you together.”
“But we... we've never...” Penelope struggled to find the words.
“We'll do it.”
The room went quiet. Colin wasn't entirely sure where that had come from, but it was probably from a place between shock and stubbornness.
Or the daunting realization that if partnering with Penelope Featherington was the price of getting to Brazil, then he would pay it.
Even if it killed him. Or she killed him first.
—
By the time Colin returned to the ballroom after changing into his regular clothes, everyone had left except for Penelope.
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, trying to make it look more natural than it had for the competition. Apparently, Daphne believed no amount of hairspray was ever enough.
Adjusting the strap of his duffel bag, he made his way over to her.
“You’re back.” Penelope pouted sarcastically. “I thought you might have escaped through the restroom window.”
“You were waiting for me?”
“I kind of had to, seeing as you volunteered us as tributes.” She rolled her eyes. “We need to start rehearsals as soon as possible, and I don’t even have your phone number.”
“You could’ve asked Michaela for it, you know.” He folded his arms across his chest, already knowing it would annoy her.
It did.
“You’re so full of yourself it’s a wonder enough oxygen reaches your brain.”
“What the hell is your problem with me?” Colin shot back. “We both want the same thing, and it’s not like they were going to let us go any other way.”
She let out a humorless laugh. “Did you orchestrate all of this?”
“What?”
“You and Kate seemed awfully friendly. You didn’t happen to plant the idea in her ear, did you?”
Colin stared at her. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“No?” Penelope crossed her arms. “The way I see it, you knew I’d be your best chance at the international prize. You also knew I’d never willingly agree to be your partner. So if I were you, I’d have found another way to make it happen.”
“And if I were you,” Colin said, “I’d get myself checked because that’s a whole new level of delusion.”
The moment the words left his mouth, a chill crawled down his spine. A cold air swept through the ballroom and neither of them seemed to notice.
“You know what? Forget it.” Penelope grabbed her bag. “I’m not doing this with you.”
She brushed past him, her shoulder knocking against his arm.
“You can’t just walk out.”
“I absolutely can.”
“Penelope—”
“No. I’m sure you’ll find a way to charm the judges into letting you compete with Michaela instead.”
Colin froze. “Is that really what you think I do?”
“It’s what I’d do if I were you.” She shrugged.
Something in him snapped.
“And if I were you,” he shot back, “I wouldn’t go around assuming I know everything about someone because of how they look.”
The air turned cold again, freezing this time. For a second, neither of them spoke.
Penelope simply scoffed and headed for the exit. Colin watched her leave as the ballroom doors slammed shut behind her.
An uneasy feeling settled in his stomach and refused to go away.
—
Penelope couldn’t sleep.
It was one thing for Colin Bridgerton to get on her nerves on the dance floor, it was another entirely that he was taking up her thoughts outside of it too. Her room was supposed to be her sanctuary. Instead, she spent half the night tossing and turning.
The bed felt wrong–too short, too narrow. She couldn’t find a comfortable position, and her head pounded with gusto. With a groan, she rolled onto her back and squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to fall asleep.
It didn’t work.
Eventually, she stretched and promptly smacked her hand against the headboard.
“Ow.”
Penelope froze at the sound of her own voice deeper and rougher.
She sat upright. The movement felt awkward, as if her limbs were suddenly too long or too heavy for her body. But it was when she rubbed her face that she paused. It was very odd that her hand covered nearly all of it.
“What…”
She shoved the blankets aside and swung her legs out, her feet touching the ground too quickly–either the floor was closer or she was taller. Her slippers were waiting beside the bed, but when she stepped into them, her feet barely fit.
“No.”
She rubbed her eyes with her knuckles.
“No, no, no.”
Slowly, she lifted her head toward the mirror attached to her dresser. Messy brown hair. Broad shoulders. An annoyingly familiar face. And why was he shirtless?
She blinked. The reflection blinked.
“No.”
She stepped closer. The reflection did the same.
“No. No. What?”
Her hand flew to her face. His face.
Before she could process the horror of the situation, footsteps approached from the hallway.
“Rise and shine, P1. You have an 8 a.m. class today.”
Phillip knocked once before opening the door and Penelope immediately tried to hide. Unfortunately, she was significantly larger than usual and therefore much harder to do so.
Phillip’s eyes widened.
“Colin Bridgerton?”