Chloe's dorm room smelled like her — coconut shampoo and the faint vanilla of the candle she kept burning on her nightstand. I was spread across her bed like I owned it, naked, my cheek pressed against the warm cotton of her comforter, the late afternoon light slanting through her blinds in long golden stripes that fell across my bare back.

Her fingers moved through my hair, slow and rhythmic, dragging from my scalp down to the ends. I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding and sank deeper into the mattress.

"You're purring," Chloe said, her voice dry.

"I'm not."

"You're literally purring. Like a cat."

I smiled against her comforter and didn't bother denying it again. The afternoon had been long, and the math room had wrung me out in a way I hadn't expected. Being near Marcus did that — left me raw and buzzing, my skin too tight for my body.

But here, on Chloe's bed, with her fingers in my hair and no one watching, I could let the mask slip.

"So," she said, her voice carrying that knowing edge, "Sofia texted me."

I opened one eye. "And?"

"And she's already in his DMs. Sent me screenshots." Chloe's phone appeared above me, the screen bright in the dim room. I took it, scrolling through the messages with a lazy thumb.

Sofia was good. Flirty without being desperate. A picture of her at a party, captioned with something about missing the last football game. Derek had responded in under three minutes.

My lips curved. "She's fast."

"She's motivated." Chloe plucked the phone from my hand and set it aside, her fingers returning to my hair. "Told her you'd owe her one."

"I'll owe her more than one if she keeps him distracted for the next three weeks."

I rolled onto my side, the comforter bunching under my hip, and looked up at Chloe. She was propped against her headboard, her honey-blonde hair falling over one shoulder, a faint smile on her lips. The freckles across her nose caught the light, and her green eyes held that sharp, knowing gleam that had made her my person the first week of freshman year.

"What?" she said.

"Nothing. Just appreciating you."

"Gross. Stop."

I laughed, soft and real, and turned onto my back, staring up at the ceiling. The afternoon light painted patterns across the white paint, shifting as a cloud passed outside. My phone buzzed somewhere on the comforter, the sound muffled against the fabric.

I reached for it without looking, my fingers finding the warm rectangle of glass and metal. The screen lit up with Derek's name.

My jaw tightened.

But I opened the message.

"He says him and the guys handled Pearl for me." I read the words aloud, my voice flat. "Says she was trying to get to Marcus's locker after practice and they 'accidentally' blocked her."

Chloe snorted. "Accidentally."

"His word, not mine." I kept scrolling. "Says she looked 'real pissed' and gave up after ten minutes."

I stared at the message for a long moment. Pearl, standing in the hallway, her flat chest and baggy clothes and pinched little face, trying to get to Marcus while Derek and his meathead friends formed a wall of shoulders and letterman jackets. I should have felt bad about that. Probably.

I didn't.

My thumbs moved before I thought about it.

"Thank you. I owe you."

Three dots appeared immediately. "You owe me more than that."

I smiled, but it didn't reach my eyes. Derek thought he was collecting favors. Derek thought that cheek kiss meant something, that I'd eventually cave and give him what every other girl in school had already given him.

Derek thought a lot of things.

I pulled up my camera, angled my body against Chloe's rumpled sheets, and took a picture. The light caught the curve of my hip, the shadow between my thighs, the edge of my nipple brushing against the fabric of her pillow. I didn't check it. I didn't need to.

I sent it.

"There. Now we're even."

The three dots appeared again. Disappeared. Appeared.

Chloe leaned over my shoulder, read the screen, and let out a low whistle. "You're going to break him."

"That's the idea."

I tossed my phone onto the bed and stretched, my arms reaching over my head, my spine arching off the mattress. The air was cool against my skin, and I felt the stretch in my shoulders, the release of tension I'd been carrying all day.

"Sofia will keep him busy now," I said, my voice muffled against my own bicep. "He'll be so wrapped up in her he won't have time to hover around me."

"You really think he'll forget about you that fast?"

I let my arms fall and turned my head to look at her. "He's a guy. A pretty girl sends him nudes and pays attention to him? He'll forget his own name before he forgets hers."

Chloe considered this, then nodded. "Fair point."

I rolled onto my stomach again, propping myself up on my elbows, the comforter soft under my bare chest. The late light painted Chloe's room in gold and amber, and for a moment, everything felt still. Quiet. Like the world had paused to let me breathe.

But my mind was already moving. Already spinning forward.

"I've been thinking," I said.

"Dangerous."

I ignored her. "Derek's taken care of. Pearl's on the back foot. Marcus is —" I paused, the word catching in my throat. "Marcus is close. But there's still a problem."

Chloe raised an eyebrow. "Which is?"

"Isaac and Tony."

"What about them?"

I shifted, pulling my knees up, crossing my ankles behind me. The movement made the sheets slide against my skin, and I felt the cool air trace patterns across my spine. "They're his people. His inner circle. If I'm going to be in his life — really in it — I need them on my side. Fully. Not just as allies."

"They already like you."

"They tolerate me. There's a difference." I tapped my fingers against the comforter, thinking. "I need them to want me there. To be happy when I show up. To defend me the way they'd defend each other."

Chloe's fingers found my hair again, and I let my eyes close, let the rhythm of her touch pull me deeper into my own thoughts. "So what's the plan?" she asked.

I opened my eyes and looked up at her, a slow smile spreading across my face. "We find them girlfriends."

Chloe's hand stilled.

I watched her face, the way her expression shifted from confusion to surprise to something I couldn't quite name. Her green eyes widened, and a flush crept up her neck, spreading across her freckled cheeks like sunrise.

"What?" she said.

"You heard me." I rolled onto my side, propping my head on my hand, letting the sheets fall where they may. "Isaac and Tony. They're good guys. Smart. Nice. They deserve someone who actually sees them."

"And you want to — what — pimp them out?"

"I want to introduce them to people who might like them. There's a difference."

Chloe stared at me. The flush hadn't faded. If anything, it had deepened, spreading down her neck, disappearing under the collar of her cropped sweater.

I tilted my head, studying her.

"Chloe."

"What?"

"You're blushing."

"I'm not."

"You're literally blushing. Like a tomato." I sat up, the sheet pooling in my lap, my eyes locked on hers. "Why are you blushing?"

She looked away, her jaw tightening. "I'm not."

"Chloe."

"Drop it, Lila."

But I couldn't. The pieces were clicking together in my head, fast and sharp, and the picture they formed made my breath catch.

"Oh my god," I said, my voice dropping. "You like Isaac."

The silence that followed was louder than any sound. Chloe's hand had fallen still on the comforter, and her face was a furious red now, her freckles standing out like constellations on a sunset sky. She wouldn't look at me.

"Chloe."

"Don't."

"Chloe Vance." I crawled toward her, the sheet falling away, my naked body pressing against her side as I grabbed her face and forced her to look at me. "You like Isaac. The math team Isaac. The chubby nerdy Isaac who talks about comic books like they're scripture."

She tried to pull away, but I held tight, my thumbs pressing into her cheekbones, my blue eyes boring into hers.

"Say it," I whispered.

"Lila —"

"Say it."

She let out a breath, long and shaky, and the fight drained out of her shoulders. "Yes. Okay? Yes. I like him."

The world stopped.

And then I laughed — a real laugh, bright and loud, the kind that bubbled up from somewhere deep and spilled out of me like I couldn't hold it back. I threw my arms around her, pulling her into a hug, my bare skin pressed against her sweater, my face buried in her hair.

"You like him," I said, the words muffled against her shoulder. "My Chloe likes Isaac."

"Shut up."

"I'm not going to shut up. This is the best thing that's happened all day."

I pulled back, still holding her face, and looked at her. Really looked. The way her eyes were soft, the way her lips pressed together like she was trying not to smile, the way her cheeks were still burning.

"How long?" I asked.

"I don't know. A few months."

"A few months?"

"He's always at the library when I'm there. He reads these thick books and mutters to himself and taps his pencil against the table when he's thinking. And he has this laugh —" She stopped, her voice catching. "It's so genuine. Like he's surprised by it every time."

I felt my heart crack open, just a little.

"Chloe."

"I know. I know it's stupid."

"It's not stupid." I pressed my forehead against hers, our breath mingling in the warm, golden air. "It's perfect."

I pulled back, my hands sliding from her face to her shoulders, and I smiled at her. The kind of smile I didn't give anyone else. The kind that was real.

"Tomorrow," I said, my voice soft but firm. "Tomorrow, I'm going to introduce you to him. Properly. Not as my friend hovering in the background, but as Chloe. The girl who's been watching him in the library for months."

Her eyes widened. "Lila —"

"And I'm going to find someone for Tony too. There's a girl in my psych class — Mariana. She's cute, she's smart, and she's been single since last semester. She'd be perfect for him."

"You've thought about this."

"I've been thinking about it since I left the math room."

Chloe shook her head, but she was smiling now, the flush fading into something softer. "You're insane."

"Maybe." I reached up and pinched her cheek, gentle. "But I'm your insane, and you love me."

She swatted my hand away, but the smile didn't fade. "You're insufferable."

"And yet."

I flopped back onto the bed, my arms spread wide, my hair fanned out across her pillow. The ceiling was painted white, and the light was fading now, the gold deepening into amber, the shadows lengthening across the room.

"Tomorrow," I said again, the word a promise. "Everything changes tomorrow."

Chloe was quiet for a long moment. Then she shifted, her hand finding my hair again, her fingers threading through the dark strands.

"I like Isaac," she said, like she was testing the words out loud.

"I know."

"I really like him."

I turned my head and looked at her, her silhouette framed against the window, the last light of the day catching the edges of her hair. She looked soft. Open. Vulnerable in a way I'd never seen her before.

"Then tomorrow," I said, my voice barely above a whisper, "we make sure he knows it."

The room fell quiet. The candle on her nightstand flickered, sending shadows dancing across the walls. Somewhere in the hallway, a door closed and footsteps faded.

I lay there, naked and warm, Chloe's fingers in my hair, and I let myself feel it. The plan taking shape. The pieces sliding into place. The future I was building, one move at a time.

Tomorrow, Chloe would meet Isaac. Tomorrow, I'd text Mariana about Tony. Tomorrow, the slow work of weaving myself into Marcus's world would continue.

But tonight, I let myself rest.

"Tomorrow," I breathed, and the word hung in the air like a held note, waiting to land.