Chapter 283: 283 | My Carefully Constructed Life Plan Includes You [PS BONUS]
"No. Listen to me. It’s almost one in the morning. We have class in seven hours. Whatever conversation you wanted to have, whatever boundaries you wanted to establish, whatever physiological responses you wanted to explore, none of that is happening while the two of you are too busy fighting each other to remember why you came here in the first place."
Petra straightened, pulling her robe closed with a motion that was probably meant to look dignified but mostly just emphasized what it was trying to hide.
"I came here to discuss institutional matters."
"You came here in lingerie to talk about paperwork at midnight. We both know that’s a lie, and I’m too tired to pretend otherwise."
Her cheeks flushed crimson.
"And you." I turned to Camille. "You came here because you couldn’t stop thinking about what happened this afternoon. Because you needed to know if what you felt was real or just adrenaline. And instead of finding out, you’ve spent the last twenty minutes proving that you’d rather fight with Petra than actually deal with any of it."
Camille’s mouth opened, then closed. The aggressive energy that had been driving her since Petra arrived seemed to deflate slightly.
"I wasn’t fighting with her. She started it."
"You called her out for wearing sexy underwear while you’re standing there in a tank top that doesn’t cover your bra."
"It’s a sports bra."
"It’s purple lace. I can see it through the fabric."
Camille looked down at herself, then back at me with an expression that managed to be both embarrassed and defiant.
"So you were looking."
"I have eyes. Both of you are standing in my room wearing next to nothing. Of course I was looking. But looking and acting on it are different things, and right now neither of you is in any condition to act on anything except mutual hostility."
The room went quiet again.
Petra stood by the window with her arms wrapped around herself, the robe clutched closed like armor. Camille leaned against my desk with her shoulders slumped, the aggressive energy finally drained out of her. I stood between them feeling like I had somehow become the responsible adult in a situation that should have been handled by people who actually knew what they were doing.
"Tomorrow," I said. "We can talk tomorrow. All three of us, or one at a time, or however you want to do it. But not tonight. Tonight we all need sleep more than we need whatever this is."
Camille pushed off from my desk.
"Fine. But this isn’t over, Belmont. We’re having that conversation. The real one. Without the princess here to complicate things."
"I’ll be wherever I choose to be," Petra said. "My schedule is not subject to your approval."
"Nobody asked for your input, Lang."
"Nobody asked for yours either, and yet here we are."
Camille stopped at the door, one hand on the frame. She looked back at me with eyes that held something complicated, something that might have been anger or disappointment or desire or all three tangled together in ways she probably couldn’t sort out herself.
"You should have let me stay. Before she showed up. You should have just let me stay."
She left before I could respond, the words dying in my throat before I could figure out what shape they should have taken.
The door closed behind her with a soft click that sounded wrong in the quiet room, too controlled for how tense she had been standing there, too final for a conversation that hadn’t actually resolved anything. The click echoed in my head longer than it should have. I stood there staring at the closed door for three seconds too long before I remembered I wasn’t alone.
Petra remained by the window. She hadn’t moved since Camille left. She stood perfectly still with her back to me, one hand resting on the window frame like she was holding herself upright through sheer force of will.
"You should go too," I said.
"I know."
She didn’t move. Didn’t turn around. Didn’t give any indication that knowing translated to doing in whatever calculation she was running inside her head right now.
The moonlight coming through the window caught her hair and turned it into something almost silver, the black strands reflecting the pale light in a way that made her look less solid somehow.
Her reflection in the glass showed me her face before she turned around, and I caught the expression she wore when she thought I wasn’t looking yet.
Her emerald eyes found mine in the dim light when she finally moved, and for a moment I saw something beneath the ice queen façade she maintained in every other context I had ever seen her in. Something vulnerable. Something that looked almost afraid.
"What happened today," she said quietly. "In the training room. When your constructs..."
"Malfunctioned. I know. I’m sorry."
"Don’t apologize." Her voice was barely above a whisper. "I’m not angry about what happened. I’m angry that I can’t stop thinking about it. I’m angry that I came here tonight wearing this." She gestured at herself, at the silk camisole and the matching shorts and everything they revealed and failed to reveal. "I’m angry that you looked at me and I wanted you to keep looking."
I didn’t know what to say to that.
"I’m not used to wanting things I can’t control," she continued. "I’m not used to my body making decisions that my brain hasn’t approved. And I’m definitely not used to losing sleep over someone like you."
"Someone like me."
"A scholarship student. A delivery boy. Someone who shouldn’t matter to my carefully constructed life plan and somehow matters anyway."
The confession hung in the air between us, raw and honest in ways that the Petra Lang from earlier today would never have allowed.
"Go to sleep, Petra."
She flinched at the use of her first name.
"Tomorrow," I said. "We’ll figure out whatever this is tomorrow. But right now you need to leave before something happens that neither of us is ready for."
She nodded slowly. The mask was already reassembling itself, the ice queen persona sliding back into place over whatever vulnerable thing had briefly emerged.
"For what it’s worth." She paused at the door, one hand on the frame the same way Camille had paused. "You were right about the paperwork excuse. I didn’t come here to discuss your Aspect file."
"I know."
"I’m not sure what I came here for."
"Neither am I. But we’re not going to figure it out at one in the morning with both of us running on adrenaline and whatever the hell just happened with Camille."
She almost smiled. The expression looked strange on her face, like she had forgotten how to make the muscles do what they were supposed to do.
"Goodnight, Belmont."
"Goodnight, Petra."
She left.
The door closed.
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