Adelia’s hand came to rest lightly on her hip as Eliot cried out [i]Inconceivable![/i], and the sound of it brought out a grin she couldn’t quite contain. She tilted her head, lips twitching upward as she shot him a dry look from beneath her lashes. “Well, now I have to test you,” she said, swirling the last of her water casually. “Because if you’re going to drop Princess Bride quotes, I need to make sure you’re not just a poser. You do know the difference between mostly dead and all dead, right?”

There was a sparkle of mischief in her eyes, the kind she rarely let out on the first day of anything. But Eliot made it easy—his presence was like a current she could step into without getting swept away. She liked that. The food table stretched in front of them like a lazy parade of half-decent choices, and she leaned over a bit to inspect a plate of crackers and hummus, then pivoted her attention to a tiny fruit tart that looked too good to pass up. She plucked it from the tray with the delicacy of someone defusing a bomb and set it gently onto a napkin in her hand.

As Eliot went on about his project-filled brain, she gave a knowing look. “Sounds like a digital minefield,” she mused, eyeing him with a half smirk. “I bet you’ve got tabs from last semester still open, don’t you?”

She took a slow, satisfying bite of the tart, eyes fluttering shut for a second. It was sweet—but not too much. The kind of thing you savor in silence. Then, without ceremony, she leaned back against the table, letting the chill of the nearby ice chest creep up through the edge of her jeans. She glanced up just in time to catch the subtle shift in Eliot’s tone, the way the humor softened at the edges of his words.

When he mentioned the crash—his recovery—Adelia didn’t speak right away. Her expression grew thoughtful, and she watched the way he patted his knee, like it was an old friend and a reminder at once. Instead of giving him a pitying look, she simply nodded, then reached out and gently knocked her knuckles against his leg—playfully, but with a sense of acknowledgment.

“Well, that knee’s a champ,” she said. “And I mean it—props to you. Recovery’s no joke.” She didn’t push for more. She didn’t prod. But she let the silence linger just long enough to honor the weight of what he’d shared before letting it go. “Anyway,” she exhaled, brushing crumbs from her napkin as she turned back to the table, “if you can spin yourself into a wall and still walk off a car crash? I think I’m in safe hands.” She peeked over her shoulder at him, grinning. “Well. Relatively speaking.”

As he darted for the ice chest, she didn’t follow immediately. Instead, she took her time at the table—plucking another small bite, nibbling a bit of cheese, then carefully crafting the perfect little plate with just enough to look casual. She’d done this kind of thing before—moving through rooms where everyone talked louder than they needed to, pretending to feel at ease. But this felt different. Calmer. Her smile wasn’t forced this time.

She watched Eliot rummage through the cooler like a man on a quest and finally pushed herself off the table to approach him, her shoes tapping lightly against the floor. “Root beer if they’ve got it,” she said as she came up beside him. “If not… I guess I’ll settle for whatever tastes least like liquid regret.” Her shoulder bumped gently into his as she leaned to peek inside the cooler. The cold hit her skin and made her shiver, but she stayed close anyway, amused.

“I think you’ve officially earned your title,” she said after a beat, glancing up at him. “Resident Chaos Magnet. You’re lucky you’re charming.” She turned her attention back to the cooler with a sly smile, quietly enjoying the peace this corner of the party gave them—even if the company wasn’t so peaceful.