Chapter 87 Kl

Chapter 87 Kl
Chloe brings up Eli at lunch, cheeks a little pink. "He asked me for coffee. It feels different. Real."

"That's great, Chloe."

She studies me instead of celebrating. "You light up every single time your phone buzzes with his name."

"Whose name?"

She sets her fork down. "You know whose name. That's not business, Mia. That's catching feelings."

"It's not that simple."

She says it gently. "I just don't want you getting hurt pretending this is only business when it stopped being business a while ago. That's all."

I don't answer her, because the truth would mean admitting something I'm not ready to say out loud yet.

That night, Caleb texts. You okay? Long day.

I want to type the truth. I type I'm fine instead.

I open my laptop, scroll to the contract sitting in my email. Sixty days, unless renewed. I do the math without meaning to. Less than half the clock left.

I close the laptop before I can watch the countdown shrink any further, my chest tight in a way that has nothing to do with hospital bills anymore.

Chloe calls twenty minutes later, still buzzing from her coffee date.

"He's different than I expected. Quieter. Actually listens."

"That's great, Chloe. Really."

"You sound distracted."

"I'm fine."

"You're doing the contract thing again, aren't you. The countdown."

I don't answer right away, which is answer enough.

"Mia. You know you could just tell him. That it stopped being business for you too."

"And then what? He renews some clause and everything goes back to feeling transactional? Or he doesn't, and it just ends on schedule like it was always supposed to?"

"Or," Chloe offers, slow and deliberate, "he tells you the same thing you're too scared to admit first, and you both stop pretending this is a business arrangement that happens to include hospital visits at two in the morning."

I don't have a response for that, mostly because some part of me knows she might be right, and admitting that out loud feels like handing over something I've spent years keeping locked away.

He texts again in the morning, before I'm even fully awake.

Didn't hear back last night. Everything okay?

Just tired. Long week.

You'd tell me if something was actually wrong, right? Not just fine wrong. Real wrong.

I read it over twice, thumb hovering over the keyboard.

I don't know how to answer that honestly without it turning into a bigger conversation than I'm ready for, I finally type.

That's honest enough for now, he writes back. I'll take it.

I set the phone down, guilt settling low in my stomach, the same guilt that shows up whenever I choose safety over truth. Chloe's words from last night echo back. The thing you're too scared to admit first. I wonder how much longer I can keep circling it without saying it out loud, to him and to myself.

At school, Eli finds Chloe at her locker before I even reach mine, and I watch from a distance as she laughs at something he tells her, easy and unguarded in a way I don't think I've ever managed with anyone.

She catches up to me at lunch, still glowing. "He wants to do coffee again this weekend."

"That's great."

She studies me. "You keep repeating that like you mean it but you're somewhere else completely. What's actually going on with you and Caleb?"

"Nothing's going on."

She sets her tray down harder than necessary. "Mia. I love you, but you are the worst liar I have ever met in my entire life."

"Fine. Something's going on. I haven't figured out what to call it yet."

She softens. "You don't have to call it anything right away. Just stop pretending it's nothing, at least to me. You deserve to actually feel something without immediately trying to talk yourself out of it."

I don't answer that, mostly because she's right, and admitting she's right feels like the first real crack in a wall I've spent years building.

That afternoon, I spot Caleb waiting by my locker, backpack slung over one shoulder.

"You've been quiet today."

"Just tired."

He leans against the locker beside mine, studying me carefully. "You keep repeating that lately. Is it the contract? The countdown thing?"

I freeze slightly, surprised he's guessed so close to the truth. "How'd you know about that?"

"I didn't, exactly. I just noticed you get this specific look whenever the sixty days come up. Like you're doing math you don't want to be doing."

I admit it finally. "It's not nothing. I keep thinking about what happens when it runs out."

"Me too, if it helps."

"Does it help?"

He bumps my shoulder gently. "A little. Mostly it just helps knowing I'm not the only one circling it."

I don't have a full answer for him yet, but admitting even that much out loud, finally, makes the weight in my chest feel a little lighter than it was before.

Chloe finds me after school, still buzzing about her own weekend plans. "You look lighter than you did at lunch."

"Talked to Caleb about the countdown thing."

"And?"

I shift my bag on my shoulder. "And nothing's fixed. But it's not just sitting in my head alone anymore. That helps more than I expected."

She hooks her elbow through mine. "See. Progress. You're allowed to let people carry things with you, Mia. It doesn't make you weaker."

"I know that logically."

She bumps my shoulder gently. "Logically isn't the same as actually believing it. You're getting there, though. Slowly."

"Slowly's still moving."

She grins, pulling me toward the parking lot. "Exactly. Now come on. Tell me more about this rooftop thing Caleb mentioned to Eli. Apparently there's a whole rooftop now."

"There's no rooftop thing to tell."

"Sure there isn't." She raises an eyebrow, unconvinced, and I let the subject drop rather than admit just yet how much that particular rooftop has already come to mean.

Eli falls into step with us as we near the parking lot, hands in his pockets. "Chloe told me about the trending hashtag thing. That's wild."

"It's been a whole week."

He shrugs, easy. "Caleb seems different lately. Lighter, almost. Whatever you're doing, keep doing it. He used to walk around like he was carrying the whole rink on his shoulders. Doesn't anymore."

"That's not really because of me."

"Sure it isn't." Eli grins, echoing Chloe almost exactly, and the two of them exchange a look that makes it clear neither of them believes a word of my denial.

"You two are impossible," I tell them, but I'm smiling despite myself the whole walk to the car, the countdown in my chest finally starting to feel less like a deadline and more like something worth looking forward to instead.

Chloe drives, radio low, Eli riding shotgun and narrating an argument he's having with the DJ about song choices nobody can actually hear him make.

"So," Chloe says, glancing at me in the rearview mirror. "Rooftop. Countdown feelings. You've had a busy week."

"Understatement."

"You gonna tell him? That you're not scared of the countdown anymore. Or however you'd phrase it."

"Working up to it."

"Working up to it is still progress. A month ago you wouldn't have admitted any of this, even to me." She turns down a side street toward my building. "I'm proud of you, in case that wasn't obvious."

"It's obvious. You've told me like four times this week."

"I'll keep telling you until it sticks." She pulls up to the curb, and I climb out, the whole ride home leaving something steady in my chest that has nothing to do with countdowns or contracts, just the quiet certainty of having people in my corner who never once stopped showing up.