“And you’re always where you don’t belong,” I snap. “Did you wander off course, or is surveillance part of the training now?”
“No,” he says, unbothered. “You’re focused. That’s different.”
Heat coils low in my stomach. Sharp. Unwanted.
Control clamps down. It’s a practiced choice. I make it again.
“You don’t know anything about it.”
“I know you outwork half the people who’ll get picked,” he fires back. “If they pass you over, it’s institutional blindness, not lack of talent.”
A look honed to cut. “Careful.”
The warning carries weight.
He meets it straight on. “I am.”
His focus narrows—fully engaged.
“I’m here on purpose.”
The front doors come into view, sunlight spilling across polished floors. A digital screen cycles through events, then flashes the hockey promo for tonight like a personal jab.
Below it, the campus feed flips—DESIGN DEPARTMENT INFO SESSION: INTERNATIONAL PLACEMENT /SPONSORED BY THE ALDRIDGE FOUNDATION—before rotating away, the damage already done.
Glass catches my reflection—hair pulled back, jaw locked, shoulders squared like a decision already loaded. The tote hikes higher as posture aligns automatically.
Armor. Automatic response.
His gaze tracks the movement, heavy against my back, mapping weak points.
“You hate that I clock you,” he says.
A scoff. “You don’t know me.”
“I know enough,” he replies, stepping closer. The distance tightens until one pause would turn us into a headline by dinner.
Laughter breaks behind us—two girls passing, one glancing between us with sharp curiosity. Familiarity draws interest here. Proximity gets valued.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Rossi,” I say, stepping past him. “Some of us are working.”
His voice follows, unhurried. “You always are.”
Three steps carry me forward, expecting the pull of his presence to reattach.
It doesn’t this time.
His phone vibrates—short, sharp. One glance. Expression locks down. Eyes lift to me like the moment gets shelved.
“Barnes.”
It lands as a claim.
He peels off toward the stairwell rail, cutting through traffic like instinct parts it for him. No glance back.
I keep walking. Stay forward. Confirmation isn’t required to know he’s still in the building, still oriented to my path even as he moves away.
Awareness presses along my spine, my body already pricing his focus as future fallout.
