Chapter 221: 221 | Girlfriend Negotiations
That was a lie. A transparent, obvious lie designed to make Sloane feel better. But something in Felicity’s delivery made it work. Made it seem like maybe it wasn’t entirely a lie.
Sloane’s grip on Felicity’s hand loosened slightly.
"He does that," she said. "It’s one of his better qualities."
"He has a lot of good qualities. Hidden under all the mysterious bullshit, obviously. But they’re there."
Sloane’s mouth twitched. Almost a smile. "The mysterious bullshit is part of the package."
"I’m getting that. It’s fine. I like puzzles."
They released each other’s hands. The tension in the air had shifted from hostile to something more like cautious assessment. Two women taking each other’s measure and deciding, tentatively, that violence wasn’t immediately necessary.
I stood between them, holding shopping bags and wondering if this was what having a harem was actually like. Not the sexy parts that the System seemed to think were inevitable. Just two women having a conversation about me while I stood there feeling vaguely objectified.
"The bags look heavy," Sloane said to me.
"They are."
"You could have asked her to help carry them."
"She’s the one who made me buy all this stuff."
Sloane looked at Felicity. "You spent his money?"
"I encouraged him to invest in himself. There’s a difference."
"How much did he invest?"
Felicity told her the number.
Sloane’s eyebrows rose. "That’s a lot of investment."
"He needed it. You’ve seen his hoodies."
"The hoodies are fine."
"The hoodies are a cry for help. He’s been dressing like a man who’s given up on life. I’m trying to restore his will to live through fashion."
Something extraordinary happened then. Sloane laughed.
Not a big laugh. Not the kind of laugh that drew attention from people nearby. Just a small, surprised sound that escaped before she could stop it. Her hand came up to cover her mouth and her eyes went wide, like she couldn’t believe what had just happened.
"I like her," she said to me.
"What?"
"I like her. She’s funny." Sloane lowered her hand and looked at Felicity with something approaching respect. "You’re not what I expected."
"What did you expect?"
"Someone who would try to steal my boyfriend through manipulation and subtle undermining."
Felicity shrugged. "That sounds exhausting. I’m too lazy for manipulation. If I wanted your boyfriend, I’d just tell him and see what happened."
"And do you want my boyfriend?"
The question hung in the air between them. Direct and brutal and exactly the kind of thing Sloane would ask without warning.
Felicity didn’t flinch.
"He’s attractive and interesting and he saved my life. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious about what dating him would be like." She held up her hand before Sloane could respond. "But I’m not trying to date him. I’m trying to be his friend. Actual friend. The kind who helps him pick out clothes and makes him laugh and doesn’t expect anything romantic in return."
"Why?"
"Because I don’t have many real friends. And he seems like someone worth having as one."
Sloane studied her for a long moment. The bond between us hummed with conflicting emotions. Jealousy that refused to die completely. Respect that was growing despite itself. And underneath everything, a strange sort of relief that maybe this situation wasn’t going to explode after all.
"Fine," Sloane said finally.
"Fine?"
"You can be his friend. But if you try anything, I will burn every piece of designer clothing you own and leave you with nothing but hoodies and sadness."
Felicity grinned. "That’s fair. I respect the threat. Very specific. Very targeted."
"I’m a targeted person."
"I noticed."
They looked at each other, and something passed between them that I wasn’t entirely part of. Some kind of female understanding that existed in a language I didn’t speak.
Then Sloane turned to me.
"The blue shirt looks good on you," she said.
"Thanks?"
"You should wear colors more often. The hoodies make you look washed out."
"I like the hoodies."
"I know. That’s the problem."
She stepped forward and kissed me. Not a deep kiss, not the kind of kiss that would make Felicity uncomfortable. Just a brief press of lips that said this is mine in a way that words couldn’t quite capture.
When she pulled back, her expression was softer than it had been since we started talking.
"I’ll see you at dinner," she said. "Don’t be late."
"I’m never late."
"You’re always late. It’s one of your worse qualities." She glanced at Felicity one more time. "Keep him out of trouble."
"I’ll do my best."
Sloane walked away, heading toward the 1-A dormitory with the confident stride of someone who had gotten what she wanted from an interaction. I watched her go, feeling the bond between us settle into something warmer and steadier than it had been that morning.
"Well," Felicity said. "That went better than expected."
"You expected her to attack you?"
"I expected property damage at minimum. Possibly some light arson. Instead I got a conditional friendship and a fashion alliance. I call that a win."
I shifted the bags again, my shoulders aching. "Fashion alliance?"
"She agreed with me about your hoodies. That makes us allies. We have a common enemy now."
"My hoodies are the enemy?"
"Your hoodies are a symptom of a larger problem. But yes. We’re going to fix you, Lukas. One terrible wardrobe choice at a time."
We started walking toward the 1-B dormitory, the bags swinging between us. The afternoon had shifted into early evening, the light taking on that golden quality that made everything look softer and more forgiving.
"Thank you," I said.
Felicity looked at me. "For what?"
"For being honest with her. For not playing games or trying to make her jealous. For just being direct about what you want."
"That’s how I operate. Life’s too short for manipulation. If I want something, I say so. If I don’t, I say that too. Keeps things simple."
