Page 4 of Calculated Risk
"Marcus. I've known you since we were six. I know when you're lying." He turns to face me. "You like her."
"I don't?—"
"You do and for some reason, that terrifies you enough that you've spent three years avoiding her rather than dealing with it."
He's right. Of course he's right. Sebastian's good at reading people when he actually pays attention.
"She's chaos," I say finally. "She's messy and emotional and impulsive. Everything I'm not."
"And that's bad because...?"
"Because I don't know how to navigate that. I solve problems with logic. She creates problems with feeling. We're fundamentally incompatible."
"Or," Sebastian suggests, "you're perfect for each other and you're just scared."
"I'm not scared. I'm realistic."
"Realistic is your word for scared." He heads toward the exit. "You're going to help her whether she wants it or not. Because you can't help yourself. You see a problem, you fix it and Lilah Rodriguez is the biggest problem you've ever encountered."
"She doesn't want my help."
"Then you'll have to be creative. Do the thing you do where you solve problems without people realizing you're solvingthem." He pauses at the door. "But Marcus? Eventually, you're going to have to admit why you're really helping her and it's not because Isla asked."
He leaves me alone in the gallery, surrounded by Lilah's destroyed art and my own carefully maintained denial.
I pull out my phone and start taking photos. Documenting the damage. Making lists of what can be salvaged, what needs to be recreated, what resources she'll need.
Already planning. Already calculating. Already solving a problem I wasn't asked to solve.
Because Sebastian's right about one thing, I can't help myself.
And Lilah Rodriguez is the one problem I've never been able to walk away from.
Even if she hates me for it.
Chapter 2
Lilah
I'mrage-crying in the supply closet when Isla finds me.
"He's gone," she says gently. "You can come out." The look on her face is soft.
"I don't want to come out. I want to live in this closet forever and never face the fact that my entire life's work is destroyed."
"Dramatic much?" I hear the humor in her tone, trying to lighten the mood.
"It's not dramatic when it's true." I wipe my face angrily. "A year of work, Isla. Gone. And I have two weeks to somehow recreate it or I won't graduate."
"So we will figure it out. You, me, Lennox, Ivy—we'll all help."
"You guys don't know anything about art."
"No, but we know how to support our friends." She sits next to me on the floor. "And before you say you don't need help, remember that refusing help is just pride. And pride doesn't recreate destroyed paintings."
"I really hate when you're logical."
"I learned from the best." She pauses. "Why do you hate Marcus so much?"
