“That's not what I?—”
“I grew up hiking these mountains,” I say, surprising myself with the intensity in my voice. “I've watched glaciers disappear year after year. I've seen what happens when we treat the planet like it's disposable.”
She's staring at me now, completely still.
“Sorry,” I mutter, embarrassed at my outburst. “I just—I get it. Why this matters.”
“No, don't apologize,” she says quietly. “I shouldn't have assumed.”
We sit in silence for a moment, the tension between us shifted into something I can't quite name.
Finally, she nods decisively. “Okay. Regenerative design it is. But we'll need to be meticulous with the engineering specifications to prove it can actually work.”
“I can handle that part,” I say. “The energy systems, water management, structural calculations.”
“And I'll focus on the architectural integration and materials.” She's already sketching something on her tablet. “Ifwe're going to win, every element has to serve multiple functions.”
We spend the next hour outlining key areas of research, our excitement building as the concept takes shape. Me on energy systems, rainwater collection, solar integration, and cost analysis. Her on structural redesign, sustainable materials, and landscaping plans.
But as we wrap up, I notice her enthusiasm fading, replaced by that worried look again.
“What's wrong?” I ask.
She sighs. “It's a great concept on paper. But pulling it off...” She shakes her head. “The judges want something innovative but also practical. What if we're aiming too high? What if we can't actually make it work?”
I study her face. I've never seen Delilah like this—vulnerable, uncertain. It hits me suddenly that this isn't just about proving herself academically. There's something more at stake for her. Something personal.
“Hey,” I say, my voice softer than I intended. “We're going to make it work. Between your design skills and my engineering chops? We've got this.”
She doesn't look convinced. “You sound pretty confident for someone who hasn’t known their project partner for long.”
“What can I say? I'm a good judge of talent.” I give her my most winning smile, but for once, I actually mean it.
She rolls her eyes, but I catch the ghost of a smile.
“Alright,” she says, closing her laptop. “We should take detailed measurements at the site before Monday. Then we'll start modeling potential layouts. I can go there after class tomorrow.”
“Got it.”
We sit there for a second, and it hits me how smoothlythat went. We didn't fight or bicker that much when we focused.
We actually make a good team.
Which is why I feel totally justified in taking this moment of peace and immediately testing its limits.
I watch Delilah for a second, then casually stretch, kicking my feet up on the chair next to me.
“So, I’ll see you at five on Monday, then?” I say.
“Obviously.”
“Cool. I’ll pick you up,”
Her head snaps up so fast I’m genuinely impressed she doesn’t get whiplash.
“Troy. No.”
“Delilah. Yes. I was being serious.”
