NYU Dorm – Lana & Carlyle
By the time Lana made it back to her dorm, the weight of the day had settled into her bones. Between her first intense business class and the conversation with Mason, her mind felt like an overworked machine running on fumes.
As she pushed open the door, she found Carlyle sitting at her desk, hunched over a stack of papers. The glow of her desk lamp illuminated scattered notes, lines of complex equations, and faint sketches.
But it wasn't the numbers that caught Lana's eye.
It was the word.
Timeline.
Before Lana could process it, Carlyle's hand shot out, swiftly covering the section of the page. Her gaze flicked up to Lana, her expression unreadable but guarded.
Lana blinked. "Uh—hey."
Carlyle let out a breath, relaxing only slightly. "Hey. How was your day?"
Lana hesitated, but then decided not to push it. Whatever Carlyle was working on, it wasn't her business.
She held up a takeout bag instead. "I brought lunch."
At that, Carlyle's face brightened. "You're officially my favorite person."
Lana chuckled, handing over the bag as she dropped onto her own bed. "You say that now, but wait till you see what I got. I had to guess what you'd like."
Carlyle unwrapped the container, peering inside. "You guessed… falafel wrap?"
Lana shrugged. "Safe choice."
Carlyle smirked. "Smart." She took a bite, chewing thoughtfully. "So, did you survive your first class?"
"Barely," Lana admitted, stretching out on her bed. "It's intense, but I like it. Mason's in it too, which is kind of funny."
Carlyle arched an eyebrow. "That's your pen pal guy, right?"
"Yeah," Lana confirmed. "Turns out, he's exactly how I imagined him. Annoying but in an endearing way."
Carlyle chuckled. "Sounds like a solid friendship."
Lana nodded, but her thoughts drifted—not to Mason, but to his father. To the way he had looked at her, to the way he had held her when she nearly collapsed.
She swallowed the thought down.
Carlyle was still absorbed in her notes, occasionally glancing at the papers beneath her hand.
Lana tilted her head. "So… what are you working on?"
Carlyle hesitated, then gave a casual shrug. "Just a theoretical physics assignment. Something about time—" She caught herself. "—uh, mechanics."
Lana narrowed her eyes playfully. "You sound like you almost said something else."
Carlyle smirked but didn't elaborate. "You wouldn't be interested."
Lana rolled her eyes. "Try me."
Carlyle only smiled, shaking her head as she went back to her notes.
Lana let it go.
For now.
But something told her there was more to Carlyle's research than she was letting on.
And for some reason… the thought sent a shiver down her spine.
_________________________________________
Dylan Orwell's Office – A Mind in Turmoil
Across the city, inside the sleek glass tower that housed Orwell Enterprises, Dylan sat behind his mahogany desk, a crystal tumbler of whiskey untouched beside him. The city skyline stretched beyond his floor-to-ceiling windows, but his gaze wasn't focused on the view.
It was lost somewhere else.
Friday night.
Lana.
Her wide, startled eyes beneath the neon rooftop lights.
The way she looked at him like he was both a stranger and someone she wanted to trust.
The way her body trembled when those men left, and the way she collapsed into his arms.
He could still feel her. Soft. Warm. Fragile.
Dylan let out a breath and leaned back in his chair, running a hand down his face.
What the hell is wrong with me?
He had met countless women in his life—beautiful, intelligent, confident. Women who knew what they wanted, who played the game as well as he did.
But Lana wasn't like that.
She wasn't supposed to stay in his mind like this.
She was young.
Mason's friend.
Off-limits.
And yet…
The knock on his office door snapped him out of his thoughts.
His jaw clenched as he straightened up. "Come in."
The door opened, and Sally, his long-time secretary, stepped inside, holding a stack of documents.
"Mr. Orwell," she said in her usual crisp tone. "Your afternoon reports and a reminder—your meeting with the investors is in thirty minutes."
Dylan exhaled slowly, pushing away the thoughts that had been clouding his mind. Business first.
But as Sally placed the files on his desk and left the room, his gaze drifted back to the window.
And despite every logical reason to forget about her, one thought remained.
Lana.