Chapter 235: 236 | Professor Delgado
Jordan found Chloe at their usual table in the dining hall, a spot near the back windows where the afternoon sun made her blue-streaked hair glow like she’d walked out of an anime opening sequence. She had two salads in front of her, one untouched, and was scrolling through her phone with the intensity of someone monitoring stock prices.
Which, knowing Chloe, she probably was.
"You’re late." She didn’t look up. "I ordered you the chicken caesar. No croutons because you said they make you feel bloated, which is the most geriatric thing you’ve ever told me."
"I was recruiting."
That got her attention. Her head snapped up, dark eyes narrowing with interest. "Recruiting who?"
Jordan slid into the seat across from her and pulled the salad closer. The chicken was still warm. Chloe had timed this perfectly, because of course she had.
"Ava Moreno. Math major. Anxiety disorder. Brain like a supercomputer running on espresso and fear."
"Never heard of her."
"Nobody has. That’s the point."
Chloe set her phone down. Her nails were painted a soft pink today, matching the gloss on her lips. She was wearing a cropped white sweater that showed exactly two inches of toned stomach when she leaned forward, and high-waisted jeans that made her legs look approximately infinite.
Jordan noticed these things because he was human and also because the System tracked his noticing with the enthusiasm of a particularly invasive fitness app.
"What do you need a math major for?"
"Accountant. We’re going to need someone handling the money eventually, and I’d rather it be someone who can’t lie to save her life than someone smooth enough to embezzle without us noticing."
Chloe’s eyebrows rose. "That’s actually smart."
"Try not to sound so surprised."
"I’m not surprised you had a smart idea. I’m surprised you had it before Brooke did."
Jordan stabbed a piece of chicken. "Brooke is handling contracts and legal structure. Ava will handle numbers. Kumiko handles creative vision. You handle brand and public relations. I handle..."
"Being pretty and charming?"
"I was going to say strategy and talent acquisition, but sure. Pretty and charming works too."
Chloe’s lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile but lived in the same neighborhood. "You’re in a good mood."
"I’m always in a good mood."
"No, you’re usually in a ’cautiously optimistic while preparing for everything to collapse’ mood. This is different. This is actual confidence." She picked up her fork and pointed it at him. "What happened?"
Jordan considered lying. Decided against it, because Rule Five existed and also because Chloe would figure it out anyway.
"I talked to Alexis in Econ. She’s being forced into an arranged marriage situation with some trust fund bro named Harrison Van Allen the Third."
"Harrison Van Allen the..." Chloe trailed off. "Oh no."
"You know him?"
"I know of him. He’s twenty-three, works at his dad’s firm, and has a reputation for being aggressively boring." Chloe shook her head. "Alexis must be dying inside."
"She seemed pretty close to it."
"And this put you in a good mood because...?"
"Because she talked to me like I was a person instead of furniture. And because she threatened to destroy me if I hurt you or Kumiko, which means she actually cares about you two more than she lets on."
Chloe went quiet for a moment. Her fork hovered over her salad, forgotten.
"Alexis is complicated," she said finally. "Her parents are... they’re not good people, Jordan. They treat her like an investment, not a daughter. Everything she does, everything she is, it’s all about maintaining the Van Der Berg brand."
"I got that impression."
"She doesn’t know how to be real with anyone. She’s been performing since she was old enough to talk. The only time I’ve ever seen her actually relax is when we’re alone and she’s had enough wine to forget she’s supposed to be perfect."
Jordan filed that information away. It matched what he’d observed, what he’d intuited from the brief cracks in Alexis’s armor during their conversation.
"You’re a good friend to her."
"I’m a complicated friend to her." Chloe’s voice carried something heavy. "I’ve been lying to her for months about where my money comes from. She thinks I’m from a well-off family. If she ever finds out the truth..."
"She’ll either understand or she won’t. But you can’t control that. You can only control how you handle it when it happens."
Chloe looked at him for a long moment.
"When did you get wise?"
"Somewhere between rock bottom and right now." Jordan finished his salad and checked his phone. 12:47 PM. "We should head to Sociology."
"Mmm." Chloe gathered her things, sliding her phone into her designer bag with practiced grace. "Professor Delgado said she’s doing something special today. Wouldn’t tell us what."
"That’s ominous."
"That’s Delgado. She loves drama."
They walked to Humanities Building 120 together, close enough that their shoulders occasionally brushed but not quite holding hands. The campus was busy with the lunchtime crowd, students moving in clusters, laughter and conversation filling the warm January air.
Jordan noticed the way people looked at them.
Not at him specifically, but at them as a unit. The tall guy with the newly defined jaw and the pretty influencer with the blue streaks in her hair. They made a striking pair, and the gossip networks of Pacific Crest Academy were undoubtedly already buzzing with speculation.
Let them buzz.
Humanities 120 was a small seminar room, maybe forty seats arranged in a U-shape around a central podium. The format encouraged discussion, which Professor Reyna Delgado loved, because it gave her more opportunities to derail her own lectures with personal anecdotes and cutting observations about human nature.
Jordan liked her. She was sharp and warm and cynical in equal measure, the kind of professor who made you want to do the reading just so you could impress her.
Also, objectively speaking, she was hot.
Like, genuinely, undeniably, embarrassingly hot.
Thirty-six years old with the kind of curves that made Jordan’s brain stutter every time she walked past. Long dark hair with caramel highlights, whiskey-colored eyes that sparkled with intelligence and barely concealed exhaustion, and a wardrobe that walked the line between professional and provocative with remarkable skill.
Today she was wearing a deep burgundy wrap dress that hugged every curve and a pair of heeled boots that made her legs look like they went on forever. A small silver hoop glinted in her nose, and her lips were painted a shade of red that probably had a name like "Broken Hearts" or "Bad Decisions."
Jordan absolutely did not stare.
He stared a little.
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