**The Night We Borrowed Fire from a Broken Star by Selvin Arlo Crest**
**Chapter 41**
**Bailey’s POV**
With each step I took up the staircase, the box of flyers nestled in my arms felt heavier, almost like it was a physical manifestation of the weight of expectations pressing down on me. My arms ached from the effort, and just as I began to wonder if I could manage, the box was effortlessly lifted from my grasp. I blinked in surprise and looked up to find Ethan standing there, holding it as if it were made of feathers.
“Thanks,” I exhaled, brushing an errant strand of hair from my face, feeling a mix of relief and gratitude. I hurried after him, trying to keep pace with his long, confident strides.
“You should have called me,” he remarked, glancing over his shoulder without breaking his rhythm. “You don’t have to carry all this by yourself.”
“I’m fine,” I muttered, though the slight tremor in my voice betrayed my fatigue.
As we stepped into the room, the atmosphere shifted. Selena was perched on the edge of the table, her legs swinging back and forth like a pendulum of excitement. Denise was cross-legged in a chair, her fingers dancing over her phone with impressive speed, while beside her sat Emma, one of Denise’s friends, who looked up with curiosity as we entered.
The moment I walked in, all three of them turned their attention to me, their faces lighting up with enthusiasm.
“Bailey!” Selena squealed, hopping off the table and clapping her hands together like a child on Christmas morning. “Our candidate is here!”
Denise flashed a grin that could light up the room. “Future financial secretary,” she declared, her voice dripping with pride.
A laugh escaped me, mingled with a hint of embarrassment. “You guys are doing too much.”
“Nope,” Selena insisted, shaking her head with conviction. “You’re going to win this, Bailey.”
A smile crept onto my face, unbidden. After my earlier confrontation with Lila, a fire had ignited within me, a determination that I wouldn’t shrink back or let fear dictate my choices.
That was precisely why I had stepped away from my volunteer role and decided to run for the student council financial secretary position. It felt like a leap, but Selena had reassured me it was a brilliant idea.
“Okay,” Denise chimed in, tapping away on her phone. “The online campaign is already in motion. I set up the Instagram page, and we’ve got fifteen followers in the first hour. By tomorrow, it’ll gain even more traction.”
“Perfect,” I replied, nodding with enthusiasm.
Selena eagerly opened the box that Ethan had placed on the table. She pulled out a stack of glossy flyers, my face beaming back at me from the vibrant paper.
“They look so good!” Selena exclaimed, fanning them out like a deck of playing cards, her excitement infectious.
Emma took one, scrutinizing it closely. “Professional. Honestly, Bailey, you look like you’ve already won.”
I laughed again, feeling warmth rise to my cheeks. “Stop hyping me up.”
“You deserve it,” Denise said firmly, her eyes sparkling with encouragement.
Ethan cleared his throat, drawing our attention. “So what’s the plan?”
We all turned to him, eager for direction. “If you’re serious about this, we need a strategy. People vote when they feel connected. That’s why we need to split up.”
“Absolutely,” Denise agreed. “I’ll manage everything online. The rest of you can cover different parts of campus—posters, face-to-face interactions, spreading the word.”
“Exactly,” Ethan confirmed. “We’ll map out areas, and each person will take charge of theirs.”
“I’ll go with Ethan, and Selena and Denise can stick together,” I suggested, and everyone nodded in agreement.
“Let’s go, Ethan,” I said, feeling a rush of adrenaline as he followed me.
“I’m proud of you,” he said suddenly, his voice low and sincere.
“Proud?” I echoed, surprise evident in my tone.
“Yeah.” He smiled, a small yet genuine expression that made my heart flutter. “You make things interesting here for me. Honestly, I was just dragging myself through college before. Classes, assignments, the same routine day in and day out, but with you around, it feels different. I’m actually enjoying it.”
I stared at him, my throat tightening slightly as his words sank in. “You’re just saying that,” I replied, trying to brush it off.
“No,” he insisted, his tone firm. “I mean it.”
I was at a loss for words, my mind swirling with confusion and a hint of something warmer. As we entered the cafeteria, the bustling atmosphere enveloped us, filled with laughter and chatter.
“This place is always packed,” I remarked, shifting my weight from one foot to the other.

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