Chapter 85: The Celebration

The cafeteria did its Thursday lunch thing around them. Noise, movement, the social hierarchies on full display the way they always were at this hour.

"People are still staring," Amira said. Not bothered. Just noting.

"Word travelled," Kelvin confirmed. "The group chat has a hundred and twelve replies now. Someone started a thread speculating about your background. The leading theory is that you’re the secretly wealthy son of a business mogul who enrolled in Food and Nutrition as some kind of personal challenge."

Xavier looked at him.

"I find that theory flattering," Xavier said.

"I thought you might," Kelvin said.

Amira pushed her glasses up and looked at Xavier with the expression that had replaced mixed feelings entirely. Something warmer and more settled. The particular look of someone who had long since stopped trying to categorise what she was looking at and had simply accepted it.

"You’ve changed a lot since September," she said.

"September was a long time ago," Xavier said.

"It was four months ago," she said.

"Still," he said.

She held his gaze. Something moved in her expression. Small, private, not for the cafeteria.

"Are you free tonight," she said.

He looked at her.

"Yes," he said.

"Dinner," she said. "Somewhere proper. The Kenvale General preliminary approval came weeks ago and we never actually celebrated it properly." She paused. "We should do that."

She’s right, he thought. The approval landed and the festival happened and everything kept moving and the celebration never happened.

"Tonight," he said. "7PM. I’ll pick you up."

She almost smiled. "In the Porsche."

"Panamera," Kelvin said.

"Kelvin," Xavier and Amira said simultaneously without looking at him.

Kelvin raised both hands and returned to his food with the dignified retreat of someone who had made their contribution and was comfortable with how it had landed.

Xavier finished his lunch and looked at the campus around him.

First year Food and Nutrition student, he thought. Porsche in the car park. Suit from Hartley & Sons at home. Nearly two and a half million in the account. Partnership with a financial crime firm. Three acquisitions in progress.

Still here, he thought. Still the base.

Still where I come back to.

He picked up his tray and stood.

7PM, he thought. Amira. Somewhere worth it.

Tonight

_ _

Xavier pulled up outside Amira’s hostel at exactly 7PM.

She was already at the entrance when the Panamera came around the corner. Not pacing, not on her phone. Just standing there ready the way she was always ready. Dark dress, simple and deliberate, nothing competing with itself. Hair down and longer than it looked when it was pulled back. The contacts instead of the glasses. Small gold earrings catching the evening light.

She looked at the car as he stopped.

Then at Xavier through the windscreen.

He got out and walked around to the passenger side. Opened the door.

She looked at him standing there with the open door and the particular expression of someone deciding whether to comment on it.

"You opened the door," she said.

"Get in Amira," he said.

She got in without further argument. He closed it, walked back around and settled into the driver’s seat. The engine started with the low controlled sound that he was beginning to understand was one of the better sounds available in this life.

"Where are we going," she said.

"Somewhere worth it," he said.

She looked at him sideways. "You’re not going to tell me."

"No," he said."It’s a secret I guess".

She pushed her glasses up out of habit. Then remembered she wasn’t wearing them tonight. Her hand completed the gesture anyway. She noticed. Looked briefly embarrassed in the way people looked embarrassed when their body did something their brain hadn’t authorised.

Xavier said nothing about it and pulled into the evening traffic.

Some things, he thought, are better left unacknowledged.

The drive across Kenvale at 7PM on a Thursday had its own particular quality. The city between its daytime and nighttime versions. Restaurants filling, the commercial district winding down, the residential streets settling into their evening rhythm.

Amira sat beside him and looked at the city through the window with the quiet inventory she brought to everything. Not performing enjoyment of the drive. Just present in it.

"This car is very quiet," she said after a while.

"Yes," he said.

"Uncomfortably quiet," she said. "Like it’s showing off by not showing off."

Xavier looked at the road. "That’s an accurate description of a Panamera."

"I know," she said. "I googled it after Kelvin announced it to the group chat."

"He announced it," Xavier said.

"He sent a photo," Amira said. "With three fire emojis and no context. Which was somehow more effective than an explanation would have been." She looked at him. "One hundred and forty two replies by the time I checked."

One hundred and forty two, Xavier thought. From a car park photo.

Different life, he thought. Different everything.

The restaurant was on the north side. The kind of place that had decided what it was years ago and saw no reason to update the decision. Dark wood, warm lighting, tables spaced far enough apart that conversations stayed private. The sort of establishment that understood dinner at this level was an occasion rather than just food and paced everything accordingly.

They were shown to a corner table. Amira looked around the room with the quiet inventory she brought to new spaces. Taking it in without performing a reaction to it.

"Xavier," she said.

"Amira."

"This restaurant has no prices on the menu," she said.

"No," he said.

"That means it’s very expensive," she said.

"Yes," he said.

"You’re going to order for both of us," she said. Not a question.

"Only if you want me to," he said.

"I want you to," she said. "But I want you to know that I know what you’re doing."

"What am I doing," he said.

She looked at him across the table with the expression that had replaced mixed feelings entirely months ago. Warmer. More certain. The particular look of someone who had stopped trying to categorise what they were looking at and had simply accepted it as a permanent feature of their landscape.

"Being Xavier," she said. Like that was its own complete and sufficient answer.