We left the locker room and the conversation behind, but something about Percy’s face stuck with me as I walked toward the cafeteria. The raw honesty of it. The way he’d admitted his fear without trying to dress it up in analytical language first.
I’d spent so long managing my own deceptions that I’d forgotten what it looked like when someone just said the thing they were actually feeling.
The cafeteria was half-empty at this hour, most students either still recovering from Radiant’s training or scattered across campus chasing their own agendas. I grabbed a tray and loaded it with whatever looked edible, which at Halloran meant approximately sixty percent of the available options. The ramen station was closed. I filed a mental complaint.
"You look thoughtful."
Felicity materialized beside me like she’d been waiting for the exact moment I reached the drink station. Her timing was supernatural. Possibly literally, given what her Aspect could do.
"Dangerous accusation," I said. "I have a reputation to maintain."
"Mmm." She grabbed a bottle of sparkling water and examined it like it contained secrets. "Percy looked weird when he left the building. Weirder than usual. You have anything to do with that?"
"Caden and I may have encouraged him to pursue romantic interests."
Felicity’s eyebrows climbed toward her hairline. "You gave Percy dating advice."
"Caden gave Percy dating advice. I provided moral support and occasional reality checks."
"That’s somehow worse." She fell into step beside me as I headed toward an empty table near the windows. The afternoon light caught her hair, turning the blonde into something closer to gold, and I had to actively remind myself that I’d spent a significant portion of yesterday afternoon with her in my lap in a dark theater.
The memory arrived with accompanying sensory details I hadn’t requested.
We sat across from each other, and Felicity immediately stole one of my fries. I let her because fighting Felicity Hardy for food was a losing battle and I’d learned to pick my conflicts.
"So," she said around the fry. "The Crucible."
"The Crucible."
"You’re going to be in a burning building with me, Sloane, Camille, and Petra simultaneously."
"I’m aware of the logistical challenges."
"Logistical challenges." She laughed, bright and genuine. "That’s what we’re calling it. Okay. I can work with that."
I ate my food and watched her watch me, because Felicity Hardy never did anything without purpose and her current purpose appeared to be making me uncomfortable through sustained eye contact alone. It was working.
"You’re not worried," she said finally. It wasn’t a question.
"I’m always worried. I’m just good at hiding it."
"No, you’re not." She leaned forward, elbows on the table, chin resting on her interlaced fingers. The position did interesting things to her neckline that I was pretending very hard not to notice because I’d spent enough time with her yesterday that pretending was becoming a genuine survival skill. "You’re good at redirecting. There’s a difference. When you’re actually worried, you make jokes that don’t quite land. The timing is off by maybe half a second and the delivery is too tight. When you’re pretending to be worried, the jokes are perfect. Smooth. No friction."
"That’s disturbingly accurate."
"I pay attention." Her smile was small and knowing and carrying the specific warmth of someone who had decided something about me and was not going to be persuaded otherwise. "Especially to you."
The Temptation Gauge flickered at the edge of my vision. Still at thirty-eight percent. Still climbing in increments I couldn’t quite track or predict. Felicity Hardy had decided I was worth watching closely, and once Felicity Hardy decided something, she didn’t undecide it because the decision was inconvenient or socially complicated. She simply continued being decided and adjusted everything else around that central fact.
"The Crucible isn’t a combat exercise," I said, partially to change the subject and partially because I’d been thinking about it since Steele’s announcement. "It’s a rescue scenario. The grading metric is lives saved, not threats neutralized. Different pressure entirely."
"I don’t cause chaos. Chaos happens around me. There’s a distinction."
"Is there?" She stole another fry. "Because from where I’m sitting, chaos seems to follow you like a very persistent puppy. A puppy with fangs and a tendency to set things on fire."
I couldn’t argue with that. The past two weeks had included a broadcast interview that went viral, multiple encounters with Camille that defied easy categorization, a complicated agreement with Sloane that involved emotional honesty I wasn’t equipped to provide, and whatever the hell had happened in that theater.
The theater.
Felicity’s leg brushed against mine under the table. Deliberate. Unmistakable.
"Stop thinking about it," she said softly.
"Thinking about what?"
"The thing you’re obviously thinking about." Her foot hooked around my ankle. "Your face does this thing when you’re remembering something you shouldn’t be remembering in public. It’s subtle, but I notice."
"You notice everything."
"Only the important things." Her voice dropped half a register, finding that lower range that she’d used in the theater when she stopped performing and started being real. "And you’re very important."
The cafeteria suddenly felt significantly warmer than it had thirty seconds ago. I was acutely aware of every point of contact between us, her foot against my ankle, the way she’d leaned closer, the space between her lips and the rim of her water bottle.
"Felicity."
"Mmm?"
"We’re in public."
"I know." She smiled, and it was the smile of someone who had won a game I hadn’t realized we were playing. "That’s what makes it fun."
My phone buzzed before I could formulate a response. Sloane’s name on the screen.
Strategy meeting with Petra got moved to 4pm. Come find me after.
The message was neutral, informational, completely appropriate for a class representative coordinating with her counterpart. But underneath the words I could feel the pull of the Bond Resonance, Sloane’s possessiveness bleeding through the emotional connection we shared. She knew I was with Felicity. She couldn’t see it, but she felt something through the link, and whatever she felt had prompted her to reach out.
"Sloane?" Felicity asked, reading my expression.
"Meeting got rescheduled."
"Ah." She leaned back, creating distance between us without fully retreating. "Duty calls."