"Oh—shoot!" Emma gasps, her shoes squeaking against the copper-coloured cobblestones as her feet freeze mid-step.
Neva turns to her, confusion softening into the faint crease between her brows. "What's wrong?"
"Girl~" Emma moves in, her hands settling on Neva's shoulders,
mischief shimmering in the bright spark dancing in her amber eyes.
"Were you at Floral Paradise yesterday?" Emma demands, giving Neva a jittery shake, curiosity practically fizzing out of her. "With—Rhett?"
Neva's eyes widen, her breath catching in her throat as the memory from the day before crashes back without warning.
"Were you?" Emma pushes, patience wearing razor-thin as her voice shoots into a breathy whistle. "Are you guys finally dating?"
"We are not!" Neva exclaims, her cheeks flaming, the heat rising for reasons far beyond the embarrassment of passersby shooting them bewildered glances.
Neva steps back, slipping out of Emma's grip. Her friend visibly withers at the answer, the brightness in her face flickering out.
"But I could've sworn you were in the meadows yesterday," Emma says, her quick, airy footsteps bringing her back to Neva's side. "Is he with someone who looks like you because he couldn't win you?" she gasps, sliding an arm around her in effortless affection.
Neva squeezes her eyes shut.
"It wasn't a date. We only stopped by the farm after Church, that's all."
"Oh~" Emma bumps her shoulder against Neva's, brows dancing mischievously.
"And here's someone acting all anti-romantic~" she trills, her voice dripping with teasing melody.
"Shut up, Emma." Neva rolls her eyes, sucking in her belly as quietly as she can, praying the faint whisper of wings dies away before she gives herself away to her friend.
"I nearly called out to you, but my boyfriend wouldn't allow it," Emma says, a playful grin tugging at her lips. "I've meant to ask about it all day, but silly me forgets so easily," she laughs, her voice curling through the rustling leaves, the warm glow of autumn trees brushing the pathway to their campus gate.
Neva shakes her head, a soft smile curving up her lips. Her eyes lift to the sky, watching the sun drift lazily toward the west, the golden hour spilling warmth over everything around them.
"Well then," she murmurs, turning to Emma as they reach the main road beyond the campus gates. "See you tomorrow."
Emma pouts, pretending to be upset. "I wish I could spend more time with you, instead of suffering through these boring lectures."
Then her eyes light up, mischief dancing in them—probably another scandalous idea running through her mind. "Say," Emma begins, excitement flaring in her voice as she squeezes Neva's arm, "why don't we go hang out for a while? Grab coffee together?"
"Exams are closing in on us, Emma," Neva says, giving a small, helpless shrug. "We'll hang sometime after."
"Tsk." Emma lets go of Neva with a mock frown. "No time for me, but plenty for that Rhett, huh?"
Neva presses her lips together. "Not funny," she mutters, adjusting the leather strap of her handbag and stepping ahead.
"Neva~" Emma whines, hurrying to catch up. "Come on, bestie. Just this one time. Hmmm?" She loops an arm around hers, giving her the most dramatically insincere puppy-eyed look.
"Alright, alright," Neva sighs, a gentle warmth blooming in her chest at the triumphant squeal that bursts from Emma, satisfied with her victory.
Little does Neva realize how delightfully she will come to regret this decision, as Emma wields her arsenal of sparkling,
emotional strikes,
guiding her from café to shops, and then on through aimless, carefree wandering.
Now she stands at the threshold of a cathedral for machines, a sanctum of vintage luxury where classic cars in deep, liquid colours rest in a loose, reverent arc.
Her gaze drifts slowly around as Emma pulls her inside, letting the scene wash over her: the dim amber light glowing through industrial pendants and lantern-style bulbs suspended from the rafters, casting warm halos across polished metal.
It is a gentle, golden hush—
so at odds with the darkening, grey-blue world gathering beyond the glass doors.
Neva stays silent, a quiet storm brewing beneath her ribs as the truth sinks in. She had been careless—careless enough to let her friend play her for a fool.
Emma speaks with the young man lounging in the red leather chair behind the table, leaving her to drift through the room on her own, her mind slipping to the wooden walls, the shelves bowed under old tools, oil tins, neon signs, and faded photographs.
"She's my friend, Neva," Emma says, looping an arm around her and grinning at the man—whom Neva now recognises as Mason, supposedly the workshop's manager from their earlier conversation.
He glances at Neva, his assessing gaze lingering a moment too long for her comfort, before he gives a small nod.
"Then I'll go see Zed. Have a nice evening," she chirps, pulling Neva toward another open door,
branching off beside the manager's desk.
"Emma, why did you bring me here?" Neva murmurs, her voice a weary foil to her friend's cheerfulness,
as the sharp scents of gasoline, chemicals, and must pierce her nose, mingling with the clatter of tools, the grind of machinery, footsteps, and low hums of voices.
"For a rendezvous, of course," Emma replies, a grin curving up her lips.
"Sup, Emma," someone calls as they move past the cluster of cars, the workers flowing through the vast garage with the rhythm of a small, busy town.
A man strides toward them, his grey eyes sweeping over Neva.
Emma's expression tightens with unmistakable annoyance.
"Who's this beauty? Haven't seen her around," he purrs, his stare lingering with a too-easy confidence that sends a churn of instinctive warning through her.
"Stay away from her, Alex," Emma warns, her voice firm as she fixes him with a glare.
Alex ignores her. Instead, he tugs off his green glove—oil-streaked, much like the greyish-blue workwear that helps him disappear into the sea of mechanics.
"Name's Alex Mitchell. And you?" he asks, extending a hand toward her.
Neva hesitates, heat prickling beneath her skin under the weight of curious stares. She's just about to take his hand, just to break the tension, when Emma snatches her away—bright, almost bouncing—toward the dirt-smudged man at the far end of the hall, still brushing dust from his clothes after sliding out from under a raised car.
"Babe!" Emma calls, her hand thrown up in an eager wave.
"Hey!" Alex calls behind them.
"Emma," Neva says quietly, pulling her to a stop. "I'm going to leave."
"What—why?" Emma's face falls,
the disappointment unmistakable before she quickly smooths it over with a burst of cheer. "I brought you here so we could catch up with our men!
Maybe even go on a double date later?"
Neva gives a soft chuckle. "There isn't a single man here I'd go on a date with," she says, taking a small step back.
"Neva, this is Rhett's workshop," Emma says, moving in to clasp her hands, hope lighting her eyes. "I thought you'd wanna surprise him?"
"You've misunderstood, Emma," Neva replies, a quiet smile tugging at her mouth. "There's nothing like that between us."
"Oh shoot," Emma murmurs, letting out a thin breath before flicking her eyes in a pointed warning for Neva to turn around.
Neva's brows knit together, but the moment she looks back, she sees him—paused several steps away, confusion glimmering in his gaze.
Panic cinches her chest, swift and unexpected.
"Girl, you take it from here," Emma murmurs, giving her hands a brief, encouraging squeeze.
And just like that, before Neva can even respond, Emma is already gliding toward her boyfriend, light-footed and sure.
"What're you doing here?" Rhett asks as he steps in front of her.
"Emma… she was the one who brought me," Neva whispers, struggling to swallow past the knot in her throat.
His gaze holds hers, something bleak, almost wounded, flickering across his eyes before he smooths it away with a nod.
"I was leaving anyway," she says, offering a faint smile—dreading that he might have heard every word.
"I'm off work too," he says, lowering his voice. "Let me take you home."
She shakes her head. "It's fine. I'll call a cab."
"Neva, I'm not a stranger," he says, a soft smile tugging at his lips. "Let me."
Neva's lips tighten before she nods, stepping forward—Rhett falling in beside her, their footsteps naturally aligning.