Page 14 of Calculated Risk
Chelsea's expression sours. "Of course. The great Marcus Chen, here to save the day."
"I'm just here to help a friend," I say evenly.
"Is that what she is? A friend?" Chelsea smirks. "Funny. I heard you've been spending every night in her studio. That seems like more than friendship."
"What I do with my time is none of your business."
"No, but it's interesting. Marcus Chen, the campus problem-solver, suddenly became obsessed with one particular problem." She turns back to Lilah. "You must be thrilled. Having the great fixer focused entirely on you."
"Get out," Lilah says quietly.
"I'm just trying to help?—"
"No, you're trying to fuck with my head and it's not going to work. So get out of my studio before I make you leave."
Chelsea laughs. "You're going to make me? You and what army?"
"Her and me," I step forward. "Leave. Now. Before I start making calls to people who might be very interested in your whereabouts the night Lilah's show was destroyed."
"You can't prove anything?—"
"Yet. I can't prove anything yet. But I have three tech majors working on recovering the security footage and when they do, if your face shows up, you won't just be facing university discipline. You'll be facing criminal charges."
Chelsea's confidence falters. "I didn't do anything."
"Then you have nothing to worry about but if you come near Lilah or her studio again, I'll make sure every person on this campus knows you're under investigation for vandalism and targeted harassment."
The details come into sharp focus in that hyperaware way that happens when emotions run high. The particular quality of the light. The ambient sounds that normally fade into background noise. The temperature of the air against my skin.
"You wouldn't."
"Try me. I have a very extensive network and zero patience for people who hurt my friends."
Chelsea looks between us, realizes she's outmatched, and leaves without another word.
The moment she's gone, Lilah sags against her desk. "Thank you."
"Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. Just shaken. She showed up out of nowhere, started asking about my work, and I knew—I just knew she was here to gloat."
"We'll prove it was her. The tech team is close. They've recovered fragments of the footage already."
My heart does something complicated in my chest, a rhythm that’s become familiar over these weeks, these months. It’s the feeling of walls coming down, of control slipping away, of allowing myself to want something I can’t calculate or predict.
"Really?"
"Really. Within a week, we should have enough to take to campus security."
She hugs me suddenly, impulsively. "Thank you. For having my back. For being here."
I stand frozen for a moment before carefully hugging her back. She smells like paint and coffee and something floral. Fits against me perfectly despite our height difference.
"Partners," I remind her. "That was the deal."
"Best deal I ever made."
She pulls back, and I immediately miss the contact.
