CHAPTER 65: [65] THE GIRL ACROSS THE HALL

Xavier stepped into the hallway, pulling his apartment door closed behind him. The soft click of the lock echoed in the carpeted corridor, and he turned toward the elevator, already thinking about what kind of ramen would pair best with Calypso’s current mood.

"Holy shit, Xavier!"

He jerked his head up, nearly dropping his keys. Aurora Fitzgerald stood outside apartment 1105, directly across from his own door. Her crimson hair was pulled back in a high ponytail that swayed as she turned, and she wore a sports bra and leggings that showed off her athletic build. The relief on her face was so obvious it made Xavier feel like an ass.

"Aurora. I... didn’t expect to see you here."

"I live here, you absolute walnut." She crossed her arms, though her golden eyes held more amusement than irritation. "Right across the hall from you. Ring any bells?"

Xavier rubbed the back of his head, feeling heat creep up his neck. "Right. Yeah, that’s... that’s my bad."

"I was starting to think I said something wrong when we met," Aurora continued, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "You walked past me at school like I was invisible. I mean, I know I can be a lot, but damn."

"My memory’s been absolute garbage lately," he said, trying to inject some levity into his voice. "I once forgot my own name for five minutes. Had to check my ID to remember if I was Xavier or just some guy who stole his clothes."

Aurora’s laugh was immediate, transforming her whole face. "You’re such a fucking disaster. I love it."

She pushed off from her doorframe, adjusting the small towel draped around her neck. "Where you headed? I was about to hit the gym downstairs, but honestly, after spending two hours trying to understand Professor Rousseau’s gate theory nonsense, I could use some fresh air."

"Getting food for me and Calypso," Xavier said, hitting the elevator button. "That Café Leblanc on Blade Street."

The elevator doors slid open with a soft ding, and they stepped inside together. Aurora leaned against the back wall, studying him with those sharp golden eyes.

"Did you actually do the homework for Rousseau’s class?" she asked. "Because I spent forever on those equations and I’m pretty sure I just wrote mathematical poetry. It doesn’t make sense, but it rhymes."

Xavier hit the button for the lobby, then looked at her with a completely straight face. "I didn’t do that shit."

"Thank god." Aurora threw her hands up in exaggerated relief. "I was starting to think I was the only one who had no clue what Klein-Gordon whatever-the-fuck was supposed to mean. You’re telling me you just... didn’t do it?"

"Why would I torture myself over homework that’s worth five percent of our grade?" Xavier shrugged as the elevator descended. "Seems like a waste of time I could spend on things that actually matter."

"Things that actually matter," Aurora repeated slowly. "Like what?"

The elevator reached the lobby before Xavier could answer, which was probably for the best. He wasn’t about to explain that "things that actually matter" included investigating potentially dead students, managing his complicated relationship with a goddess, and figuring out how to close interdimensional gates that have never been done.

"Food," he said instead, stepping out into the marble-floored lobby. "Food definitely matters."

Aurora followed him, her sneakers squeaking softly against the polished floor. "You know what? The gym can wait. I’m coming with you."

Xavier paused near the front doors, turning to look at her. "You sure? I don’t want to mess up your workout schedule."

"My workout schedule can kiss my sexy ass," Aurora said, pushing past him to hold the door open. "I’m not missing out on good food because of some arbitrary fitness routine. Besides, you owe me for ignoring me at school."

The evening air hit them as they stepped outside, carrying the familiar scents of Metro City - salt from the harbor, exhaust from the mag-lev trains, and the faint ozone smell that came from all the crystal tech. Aurora fell into step beside him, her ponytail bouncing as she walked.

"So Calypso’s your cousin, right?" she asked. "The silver-haired one who looks like she stepped out of a magazine?"

"That’s her." Xavier kept his voice neutral, though he noticed how Aurora’s question carried a slight edge. "Why?"

"Just curious. She’s in our class but I haven’t really talked to her much. She has seemed..." Aurora paused, clearly searching for the right word. "Intense. Like, not in a bad way, just... intense."

They turned onto Blade Street, where the evening crowd was already thick with people heading to dinner. The smell of grilled meat and spices drifted from various restaurants, mixing with the ever-present crystal energy that powered the district’s neon signs.

"She’s definitely that," Xavier agreed. "Been dealing with some family drama lately, so she’s probably more wound up than usual."

"Family drama? What kind?"

Xavier almost smiled at how casually she’d tried to slip that question in. Aurora was clearly the type who collected information like a magpie collected shiny objects - not necessarily with malicious intent, but because she couldn’t help herself.

"The boring kind," he said. "Money stuff. You know how families get when there’s inheritance involved."

"Ah." Aurora nodded sagely. "Rich people problems. I wouldn’t know, but I’ve heard they’re the worst kind of problems to have."

"What about you?" Xavier asked, steering the conversation away from dangerous territory. "Any family drama keeping you up at night?"

Aurora’s expression shifted, becoming more guarded. "Not anymore. Lost my brother a few years back, and my parents... well, let’s just say they’re not great at dealing with grief. They threw money at me and shipped me off to the best academy they could find."

"I’m sorry."

"Don’t be." Aurora’s smile was sharp around the edges. "Cian always said life’s too short to waste time being sad. Better to channel that energy into something useful."

The bell above the door chimed as Xavier and Aurora stepped into Café Leblanc. The space was smaller than it appeared from outside, with worn wooden booths lining one wall and a long counter dominating the other. Behind the counter, a balding Japanese man with kind eyes and a neatly trimmed beard looked up from the newspaper spread before him.

"Ah, welcome in," he said, folding the paper and setting it aside. "Take any seat you’d like."