Chapter 43: Who is Emiliana to you

Chapter 43: Chapter 43: Who is Emiliana to you

The first thing Garrett noticed was the purple.

It was everywhere, worked into the room in a way that felt deliberate rather than accidental. The curtains, the throw cushions on the couch, a scattering of small decorations across the shelves. Even some of the smaller items on the desk carried the same colour. His own place ran on whatever furniture had been convenient at the time. Hers looked like someone had actually thought about it.

He didn’t say anything, just looked around.

A bunny plush sat propped against the cushions, soft and slightly worn at one ear like it had been there for years. Above the desk, a framed poster and a small shelf of vinyl told him she was a fan of Ariana Grande. There were a few other small decorations around the room, the kind of things that didn’t serve much purpose beyond making the place feel like hers.

It was different from the side of her he usually saw on campus, where she was sharp and composed, always seeming to know what she was doing.

Here, there was more colour. More personality.

Freya caught him looking and raised an eyebrow. "Never seen a bunny before?"

"Didn’t peg you as the type," Garrett said.

"The type for what? Having taste?" She dropped onto the couch, gesturing for him to sit. "Everyone needs a soft spot somewhere."

Garrett glanced at the bunny again before sitting down.

"Apparently."

Freya pulled her notes onto her lap and flipped to the right page, sliding closer so he could see. She talked him through what he’d missed, quick and clear, no wasted explanation.

Garrett listened, occasionally glancing down at the notes as she pointed out the parts he’d missed. He recognized some of the material, but there were enough gaps that he was glad he’d asked.

Somewhere in the middle of it, she paused, shaking her head. "You should’ve seen Professor Halloway today, by the way. Spent ten minutes trying to fix the projector himself before admitting he had no idea how to use it."

"Sounds about right."

"He kept hitting random buttons like that was going to help." She laughed, the sound easy. "Half the class was filming it."

"Educational."

She glanced sideways at him, amused. "You’re not exactly a big talker, are you?"

"I talk when it’s worth it."

"That’s a very efficient way to live."

Garrett shrugged.

"It saves time."

Freya smiled and went back to the notes. "I suppose that’s one way to look at it."

She explained another part of the lecture, then paused again when she reached a section Garrett already understood.

"You got this part, right?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Then you’re not as far behind as you thought."

"I wasn’t that worried."

"You came to my apartment for notes."

"I came for the notes. There’s a difference."

"Right." She gave him a doubtful look. "Very important distinction."

Garrett didn’t bother arguing.

She went back to the notes for a moment, then set them down in her lap, something more casual settling into her voice. "So, random question. I talked to Daniel yesterday, and he was in a weirdly good mood after."

Garrett kept his expression the same. "He’s usually in a good mood."

"This was different. Practically glowing." She tilted her head, watching him. "You’re his friend. Is he always like that after talking to people?"

Garrett understood exactly what she was asking.

He wasn’t about to hand her Daniel’s feelings laid out plain, not without Daniel’s say in it. But he wasn’t going to lie either, or pretend he didn’t know what she was really asking.

"Depends on the person," he said. "He doesn’t get like that for just anyone."

Freya was quiet for a moment, then nodded slowly and picked the notes back up.

The conversation drifted away from Daniel on its own, no real transition to it, just one topic loosening into another.

"Okay, but seriously," Freya said, setting the notes aside completely now, "how has nobody reported the vending machine on the third floor? It’s eaten my money twice this month."

"Third floor one’s cursed," Garrett said. "Everyone knows that. You just learned it the hard way."

"Nobody told me!"

"Would you have listened?"

She opened her mouth, then closed it, clearly weighing whether to admit the answer. "...No. Probably not."

Garrett let the corner of his mouth move, just slightly. "There’s your answer, then."

She threw a cushion at him, not hard, more out of principle than anything. He caught it without much effort and set it down beside him.

"You deserved that."

"For what?"

"For being right."

"That’s not usually a crime."

"It is when you’re annoying about it."

"I didn’t say anything."

"Your face did."

Garrett looked at her for a second.

"My face doesn’t talk."

"It definitely does."

He almost smiled.

From there it kept going. She complained about a group project where she’d apparently done most of the work. He mentioned a professor who assigned readings nobody actually needed for the exam. She had opinions about the café near the library, strong ones, mostly about how overpriced it was for coffee that tasted burnt half the time. He agreed, though he still went there anyway, because it was close.

Somewhere in the middle of all that, Garrett noticed he wasn’t thinking about the timer.

Not once.

It wasn’t some big realization, nothing he stopped to sit with. He just noticed, the way he noticed most things, and kept talking.

For the first time since the system had given him the task, he wasn’t measuring the conversation against the requirements. He wasn’t wondering whether something he’d said counted as progress or whether Freya was reacting the way the system wanted.

He was just sitting there talking.

Freya was quick with a comeback and quicker to laugh at her own mistakes. She teased him more than once about how little he gave away, calling him "annoyingly unreadable" at one point, and he didn’t bother denying it.

"You’re always like this?" she asked.

"Like what?"

"Hard to read."

"Probably."

"That’s not an answer."

"It’s the one I’ve got."

She shook her head, smiling.

It wasn’t a big moment. It didn’t need to be.

Talking to her was easy, at least for now.

"So what do you actually do when you’re not on campus?" Freya asked, tucking one leg under herself on the couch. "Feels like you disappear half the time."

"Not much," Garrett said. "Work through things. Deal with whatever needs dealing with."

"Very specific."

"I try."

She laughed at that, shaking her head, then went quiet for a second, like she was deciding whether to say the next thing at all.

"Can I ask you something?"

"You’ve been asking things for the last twenty minutes."

"Fair." She picked at a loose thread on the cushion instead of looking at him directly. "I’ve seen you around campus with Emiliana. More than once, actually."

Garrett didn’t answer right away, just watched her, waiting for the rest of it.

"So... who exactly is Emiliana to you?"

She kept her tone light, but there was a small pause before the question, barely there, easy to miss if he hadn’t been paying attention.

He had been.

He knew she’d seen them together before. More than once, she’d said, and that wasn’t an accident of phrasing. She was asking without mentioning the obvious conclusion herself.

Garrett looked at her for a moment, the easy rhythm of the last twenty minutes still sitting between them, now waiting on whatever he said next.

He didn’t answer.

Yet.