“You look like you're running on fumes,” she offers lightly, her tone careful in the way it gets when she's trying to check on me without making it obvious.
I take a sip, grateful for the bitter warmth. “That obvious?”
“To me?” She smiles, the expression warm and knowing. “Always.”
She leans against the counter beside me, close enough that our shoulders almost touch. Her energy is different today, brighter than usual, brimming with the excitement she gets when there's news she wants to share. I brace myself without knowing why.
“So,” she begins, drawing the word out. “Ivan texted again.”
My fingers tighten around the cup, the cardboard compressing slightly.
“He did?”
“Mm-hmm.” She's watching my face now, reading my reaction the way she always does. “He’s still impressed with you, apparently. Mentioned that you were ‘remarkably composed’ at lunch.” She makes air quotes with her fingers. “Which I told him is just your default setting. You could be juggling chainsaws and your face would look exactly the same.”
A faint unease slides through me, quiet but persistent, like cold water seeping under a door. “That's flattering.”
The word comes out flat, and I see a slight furrow appear between her eyebrows.
“Oh, come on.” She bumps my shoulder with hers, the gesture affectionate. “He's not wrong. And he suggested we all go out this week. Nothing fancy. Just dinner and drinks. Normal people activities with actual socializing instead of hospital cafeteria food eaten standing up.”
I take another sip of coffee, buying myself time to choose my words with care. “I don't think that's a good idea.”
Her eyebrows lift higher, her surprise genuine. “Why not?”
Because I don't want my work bleeding into my personal life, I almost reply. But that's not quite right. It's already bled. It's already mixed. The boundaries I tried to maintain dissolved the moment Kiren walked into my world, and now everything touches everything else in ways I can't fully untangle.
“Because I'm trying to keep things separate,” I offer, knowing it's not enough explanation, but unable to give her more without revealing too much.
She studies me for a long moment, her head tilting slightly, and her eyes narrowing in that way that means she's piecing together information I haven't given her. “Since when?”
“Since always.”
The lie tastes wrong in my mouth, obvious and unconvincing.
She doesn't call me on it directly. Instead, her expression changes, becoming softer, more careful. “Is this about Kiren?”
My spine straightens automatically, my body responding to the name before I can control the reaction. “It's not about Kiren.”
“You're terrible at lying, Rowan.” She replies cheerfully, but there's an edge of concern underneath, genuine worry bleeding through the lightness.
I lower my voice further, leaning in so the words won't carry beyond the small space between us. “Lila. I don't want him anywhere near you.”
That gives her pause. The smile fades from her face, replaced by confusion and the beginning of alarm. “Him? You mean Ivan?”
I nod once, the movement small but definite.
Her confusion deepens, creasing lines across her forehead. “Why? He's been nothing but nice. Polite. Interested in getting to know you better. What am I missing?”
Everything, I want to tell her. You're missing the way he watched me at lunch, the way his attention felt calculated, and every word he chose seemed designed to gather information while revealing nothing. You're missing the instinct that screams wrong every time I think about him, the same instinct that's kept me alive through situations that should have killed me.
But I can't explain that without explaining everything else. Without pulling back the curtain on the life I've been trying to keep separate from her, this place, and the version of myself that exists inside these walls.
“I just get a weird vibe from him,” I finally admit, the words inadequate but true. “And I know that sounds vague and unhelpful, but I'm asking you to trust me on this.”
She searches my face, looking for details I'm not sure I can give her. Then she nods slowly, her expression serious now, the playfulness completely gone. “Okay. Okay. I hear you.”
“Thank you.”
