The cafeteria buzzed with the usual chaos—trays clattering, voices layering over each other in a wall of noise that made every conversation a competition. Lila pushed through the crowd with the strawberry smoothie in her hand, condensation already beading on the plastic cup and dripping onto her fingers. She didn't wipe it off. She let the cool wetness ground her as her eyes swept the room, scanning past the usual tables—the athletes, the art kids, the group of freshman who always sat too close to the exit—until she found him.

Marcus Hayes sat at a corner table near the far wall, his broad shoulders hunched forward under a gray hoodie that swallowed everything except the tips of his fingers. His dark hair fell across his forehead, and he was saying something to Isaac—head down, voice low, that soft rumble she couldn't hear from here but could almost feel. Tony sat across from him, already mid-laugh, his chopsticks hovering over a container of lo mein. And beside Marcus, close enough that her shoulder nearly brushed his, sat Pearl.

Lila's jaw tightened. She watched Pearl's hand rest on Marcus's forearm, casual and familiar, as she leaned in to say something. Marcus nodded, his eyes still on his tray, and Pearl laughed—a bright, deliberate sound that made Lila's thumb press harder into her smoothie cup.

She didn't stop. She didn't hesitate. She just adjusted her grip and started moving toward the table, her skirt swinging with each step, her hair falling in a black curtain past her shoulders. She knew exactly how she looked—the comic logo stretched tight across her chest, the thong visible above her waistband where her skirt sat low on her hips—and she used every inch of it.

"Hey."

The voice came from her right. Lila glanced over and saw a guy from her psych class—Brian, maybe?—grinning at her with that same hopeful look she'd seen a hundred times. She didn't slow down.

"Not now," she said, and kept walking.

By the time she reached the table, Isaac had spotted her. His fork stopped halfway to his mouth, and his eyes went wide behind his glasses. Tony followed his gaze, and his chopsticks paused over the lo mein. Pearl looked up last, and Lila watched the recognition flicker across her face—followed by something sharper, something that tightened the corners of her mouth.

Lila smiled. Wide. Bright. Her best you're-already-beaten smile.

"Mind if I sit here?" She let her voice cut through the noise, casual and warm, as she set her smoothie down on the table. "My usual spot's taken."

She didn't wait for an answer. She dropped into the empty seat beside Marcus, her thigh brushing his before she settled, her knee pressing against his under the table as she leaned in close. The plastic of her chair scraped against the linoleum, and the sound seemed to snap everyone back into motion.

"Yeah, of course!" Isaac said, already sliding his tray to make room. He grinned at her, a little flustered, his cheeks pink. "Plenty of space. We're not—I mean, we're just eating. You want some of my fries?"

Tony snorted. "She didn't come for your fries, man."

"I'm offering hospitality. It's called being a good person."

"It's called being a simp."

Isaac threw a napkin at him, and Tony caught it without looking, still grinning. Lila laughed—a real laugh, easy and warm—and let her knee stay where it was, pressed against Marcus's leg. She could feel the heat of him through his jeans, the solid weight of his thigh, and she let the contact sit there, unhurried, as if she hadn't noticed.

Marcus had gone still beside her. She didn't look at him yet. She let the moment stretch, let him feel her presence in his space, and turned her attention to the conversation instead.

"You guys always sit here?" she asked, wrapping her hand around her smoothie. The condensation had pooled beneath it, and she drew a lazy circle through the water with her fingertip.

"Pretty much," Tony said. "Best corner spot. You can see the door, avoid the freshman pit, and the soda machine's like ten feet away."

"Strategic."

"We're mathletes. Everything's strategic."

Isaac nodded vigorously. "Tony mapped the cafeteria traffic patterns last semester. We're in the optimal quadrant."

"You mapped the cafeteria."

"For efficiency."

Lila's smile widened. She liked them. She had known she would—the way Marcus talked about them in the hallway, the way they orbited him like planets around a sun, protective and warm. They were easy. Genuine. The kind of people who didn't make her work for it.

"What's the efficiency rating on the nacho line?" she asked.

Tony's eyes lit up. "Variable. Depends on the day and whether Mrs. Delgado is running the register. If she is, you add at least ninety seconds because she'll stop to ask about your mother."

"Your mother," Isaac said, in a passable impression of a older woman's voice, "she still making that lasagna?"

"Every single time."

Lila laughed again, and this time she felt Marcus shift beside her. She turned, finally, and let her eyes meet his.

He was looking at her like she was a mirage. Like she might dissolve if he blinked. His hands were flat on the table, his fingers spread, and she could see the tension in his shoulders—the way he held himself small even though he was anything but.

"Hey," she said, soft, just for him.

His throat bobbed. His eyes dropped to her lips for half a second before jerking back up to her face.

"H-hi."

She loved the way he said it. The catch in his voice, the way it cracked on the single syllable. She wanted to hear him say her name. She wanted to hear him say it without stumbling, without the stutter, just once—Lila, clear and sure—and she knew she would wait as long as it took to get there.

"I didn't interrupt anything, did I?" She gestured at the table, at the scattered trays and half-eaten food. "You guys looked like you were in the middle of something."

"Just talking about the new issue of Ultimate X," Isaac said, tapping his fork against his tray. "Tony's mad about the retcon."

"It's not a retcon, it's a soft reboot. There's a difference."

"There's no difference. They changed the origin story. That's a retcon."

"It's a soft reboot because they kept the same continuity—"

"They changed his mother's name, Tony. That's a retcon."

Lila leaned forward, her elbows on the table, her chin resting on her hand. "The new issue? The one where the villain turns out to be his brother?"

Both of them froze. Isaac's fork clattered onto his tray. Tony stared at her, his mouth hanging open.

"You read Ultimate X?" Isaac's voice cracked.

"I have the first three arcs in trade," Lila said, and watched their faces transform. "The brother reveal was spoiled for me, but I still cried when I got to it."

"She cried," Tony repeated, looking at Isaac like he'd just seen a unicorn. "Isaac, she cried."

"I heard him."

"At the brother reveal."

"I'm processing."

Lila laughed, and it was easy—genuine in a way she didn't have to manufacture. She liked the way they lit up, the way they leaned into the conversation without reservation, without the guardedness that came with most people she talked to. They were just themselves. Unfiltered. She could work with that.

"So the retcon," she said, drawing the word out, "is it actually bad, or is Tony just being a purist?"

Isaac pointed at her. "Thank you."

"She hasn't even heard my argument yet!"

"I don't need to. You called the Phoenix saga 'overrated' last week. Your comic opinions are suspect."

Tony threw his hands up. "Because it is overrated! The writing's bloated, the pacing is a mess, and the only reason people love it is nostalgia."

"The Phoenix saga is a masterpiece—"

"It's a nostalgia trap, Isaac. You're not even arguing in good faith—"

Lila tuned them out, just for a second, and let her attention drift to the girl on Marcus's other side.

Pearl had been quiet. She sat with her hands in her lap now, her tray untouched, her eyes fixed on the table in front of her. Her short bob hung forward, obscuring her face, but Lila could see the set of her jaw, the way her fingers twisted together beneath the table. She hadn't touched Marcus's arm since Lila sat down. Her hand had retreated like a snail pulling into its shell, and she hadn't spoken a word.

Lila let her smile soften, just slightly, and turned back to the conversation.

"I'm with Tony," she said, and Isaac made a sound of betrayal. "The Phoenix saga has great moments, but the middle arc drags. It could have been twenty issues shorter."

Tony pointed at her again, triumphant. "Yes. Exactly. Thank you."

"I'm surrounded by traitors," Isaac muttered, but he was grinning. He glanced at Marcus, who still hadn't spoken, and nudged him with his elbow. "You hear this, Marcus? We're outnumbered."

Marcus startled, like he'd forgotten he was part of the conversation. His eyes darted to Isaac, then to Lila, and his cheeks flushed dark. He opened his mouth, closed it, then managed, "I—I think the first arc is the best. The one where they set up the brother's m-motives. That pacing was tight."

Lila's breath caught. She didn't let it show. She kept her expression open, interested, as if he hadn't just given her exactly what she wanted—his voice, his opinion, the slight stumble over motives that made her chest ache.

"I agree," she said, and watched his eyes widen. "The setup is perfect. Every clue is there, but you don't see it until the second read."

Marcus blinked at her. "You've—you've read it twice?"

"Three times." She smiled, and the corner of his mouth twitched—not quite a smile, but close. She tucked that knowledge away like a prize. "The third time, I caught the scene where the mom mentions the adoption papers in passing. It's so subtle you miss it if you're not paying attention."

He stared at her for a long moment. Then his lips parted, and she saw it—the smallest shift, the beginning of a smile, the gap between his front teeth just visible before he caught himself and looked down at his tray.

It wasn't a smile. Not yet. But it was the start of one, and she would take it.

Beside her, Isaac was saying something about the art style of the third arc, and Tony was arguing back, and the conversation swelled around them like a wave. Lila let it wash over her, let herself be part of it, laughing at Isaac's jokes and throwing in her own opinions when they landed. She made sure to include Tony, to tease Isaac about his obvious crush on the series' lead artist, to ask questions that kept them talking.

She made sure Pearl stayed silent.

It wasn't hard. Pearl had folded into herself, her shoulders hunched, her hands still in her lap. She hadn't touched her food. She hadn't spoken. She just sat there, a ghost at the edge of the table, while Lila filled the space beside Marcus like she belonged there.

Lila's knee pressed a little firmer against his. She felt him tense, then relax, then tense again, as if he didn't know what to do with the contact. She didn't pull away. She let the pressure be a question, warm and patient, and she watched the way his fingers curled against the tabletop, the way his breathing hitched when she shifted closer.

"So," Isaac said, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms, "serious question. Favorite villain of the whole run. Go."

"The Drifter," Tony said immediately.

"Basic answer."

"He's not basic, he's iconic—"

"No, the answer is the Warden," Isaac interrupted. "Because his redemption arc actually makes sense, unlike the sister's—"

"The sister's redemption arc is fine, you're just mad she beat your favorite character—"

"She beat him with a cheap shot—"

"It wasn't cheap, it was strategic—"

Lila laughed, letting the noise wrap around her. She took a sip of her smoothie, the strawberry cold and sweet on her tongue, and let her gaze drift across the table. Tony was gesturing wildly, his argument spilling out in a rapid stream of words. Isaac was countering, his voice rising with mock outrage. Marcus was watching them, a small smile fighting its way onto his face—still not quite there, but closer.

And Pearl was watching Marcus.

Lila caught the look. The way Pearl's eyes tracked his face, searching for something she wasn't finding. The way her lower lip pressed between her teeth. The way her hands twisted in her lap, a nervous, unconscious motion.

Lila's smile stayed exactly where it was. She held Pearl's gaze when the other girl looked up, and she let her eyes soften—warm, harmless, the smile of someone who didn't know she was being a threat.

Pearl looked away first. Her hands went still in her lap.

The conversation was still going. Tony had moved on to ranking the series' fight scenes, and Isaac was loudly disagreeing, and Lila let herself be pulled back into it. She laughed at Tony's impression of the main character's catchphrase. She argued with Isaac about whether the prison break sequence was over-choreographed. She let her hand drift to her smoothie cup, her fingers wrapping around the cold plastic, and she let her knee stay exactly where it was—pressed against Marcus's, steady and warm and full of promise.

He didn't pull away. She counted that as a win.

The bell would ring in minutes. The cafeteria was already thinning, students gathering their trays and heading for the doors. Lila could feel the end of the period approaching, could hear the shift in the noise as people began to move. She didn't rush. She finished her smoothie in slow, deliberate sips, letting the last of it slide down her throat, and set the empty cup down with a quiet thud.

"Thanks for letting me crash your table," she said, directing it at the group but letting her eyes settle on Marcus. "This was fun."

"You can crash it anytime," Isaac said, already grinning. "We need more people who actually know what they're talking about."

"I'll hold you to that." She stood, smoothing her skirt down, and let her hand brush Marcus's shoulder as she turned—just a graze, quick and innocent, the way you'd touch a friend without thinking. "See you around, Marcus."

He looked up at her, his hazel eyes wide, his throat working as he swallowed. "Y-yeah. See you."

She smiled at him—slow, warm, a promise he didn't know how to read—and turned to walk away.

Behind her, she heard Isaac say, "Dude. Dude."

And she heard Marcus's voice, low and rough, caught somewhere between wonder and disbelief: "I d-don't know how that happened."

She let the smile spread across her face as she pushed through the cafeteria doors, the noise of the hallway swallowing her as she stepped into the light.