Chapter Five: Smell Of Green
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The quiet was heavy at 5:33pm.
Josie didn’t know how to react.
Didn’t know how to leave.
She was just _seated upon_ the chair. Frozen. The weight of jealousy still sitting on her chest like a textbook.
Then she looked up.
And he was standing right in front of her.
Literally.
No warning. No sound. Just _there_.
Towering.
Gray eyes down on her.
Josie’s heart did something stupid.
But she remembered.
The porch. The collapsing. The _Hydrate_. The way he scanned her like she was broken code.
So she composed herself.
Fast.
Sat up straighter. Smoothed her shirt. Schooling her face into _I am fine and normal_.
Then she began to arrange her books.
Quick. Efficient.
Because she did _not_ want him to scan her clinically again. Not here. Not after the girls. Not with jealousy still thick in her throat.
She packed up like she was in a hurry.
Like she had somewhere important to be.
Like Room B wasn’t holding her hostage with one black umbrella and four harem members.
She stood at 5:34pm.
Bag on her shoulder.
About to leave.
And he caught her arm.
Just above the wrist.
Not hard.
But it sent millions of _feelings_ down her spine.
Electric. Sudden.
This was the time.
_Iron against iron._
He was _squeezing_.
But at the same time it was… sizing.
Measuring.
Something she could not explain. Because she had never felt it before.
Not like this.
Josie turned around at 5:35pm.
And he was holding the umbrella.
The one from the table.
The one she left at the bus stop.
He held it out to her.
“You’re going to need this,” he said.
Flat. Matter-of-fact. Like he was stating the First Law of Thermodynamics.
Josie shook her head.
Fast. Automatic.
“No. I’m not.”
Her voice came out smaller than she wanted.
Orwell didn’t move.
Didn’t blink.
Then he said something.
“Then why didn’t you bring the other one with you?”
Josie flustered.
Immediately.
Her brain short-circuited.
_The other one._
The first umbrella. From the porch.
He _knew_.
He remembered.
_What is wrong with this guy?_
The question screamed in her mind at 5:36pm.
So Josie just stood there.
Speechless.
Wordless.
And he was standing there.
Looking down at her.
Gesturing the umbrella to her.
Patient.
Like he had all the time in the world.
Like he was waiting for her to catch up to whatever equation he’d already solved.
The rain hadn’t even started.
But he knew it would.
Josie didn’t know what to say at 5:36pm.
But she definitely didn’t want to take the umbrella from him.
So she didn’t.
She just started walking away.
One step.
Two steps.
Toward the door.
Away from the iron. Away from the scan. Away from the question she couldn’t answer.
Then—
_CRACK._
Thunderbolt.
Loud. Immediate.
Like the sky split open right above Engineering Library.
Josie froze at 5:37pm.
Because she heard it.
Rain.
Pouring outside.
Heavy. Violent.
_Very_ heavy.
She felt stupid.
Literally stupid.
Because she could _not_ walk out of the room.
He was right.
Again.
So she stopped in her tracks.
Turned around.
Walked back to him.
Slow. Defeated.
And retrieved the umbrella from his hand.
Her fingers brushed his.
Warm.
She hated that she noticed.
While she was going out at 5:38pm, he said something.
“Why do you like to run from umbrellas?”
Josie was frustrated.
Instantly.
She just stood at the spot.
She wasn’t even shocked that he asked such a question.
Because he’s a psycho.
According to her.
She turned around at 5:39pm.
Faced him.
The storm outside darkened the room.
Windows gone gray. Light dying.
And she didn’t say anything.
She just stood there.
And he did his scan again.
This time the room was dim, so she couldn’t see his eyes.
But she _knew_.
She knew he was scanning her.
That clinical scan.
Again.
So she felt uncomfortable.
Not just because of his eyes.
But also because of the weight of the question that he just asked.
Because she knew that answering it would lead to her digging deep into herself.
And she didn’t want to do that at the moment.
Not here. Not with him. Not with four girls’ perfume still in the air.
So what happened?
She answered anyway.
“I don’t like umbrellas,” she said. Voice flat. “Especially the ones that are black. Dark. Warm. And held over my head by another person.”
The room went quiet at 5:40pm.
Except for the rain.
Pounding.
Then Orwell did something.
For the first time.
He chuckled.
Small.
A sound.
Not a smile. A _sound_.
And then a small smile.
Just the corner of his mouth.
And something cracked open inside of her.
But in a good way.
In the kind of way that a flower would bloom.
Slow. Involuntary.
Warmth spreading where jealousy had been.
He actually chuckled.
Orwell.
The human calculator.
Laughed.
Then he looked away from her at 5:41pm.
Turned his head toward the window.
Gave her space.
Gave her suffering.
Enough for her to be comfortable enough to walk out of the room.
So she did.
Umbrella in hand.
Heart doing thermodynamics she didn’t understand.
The door closed behind her.
And the rain kept falling.
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