Episode 26 – The Invitation
Chloe POV
Even before I slid open the invitation, I could feel something shifting in the air. I'd been asked by Marcus, quietly, to help him observe—to notice patterns, behaviors, anything out of the ordinary around Layla and Ethan. It felt weird, but important. And when I found the envelope tucked under my door that morning, it felt like more than a party invite.
I stood in the dorm room, flicking on the desk lamp. The envelope was thick, the campus crest stamped in gold. I ripped it open, and inside was a neatly printed card: Student Mixer – Courtyard Garden – Tonight. Live music. Light refreshments. An opportunity to mingle.
My first thought: Marcus must have known about it. He probably wanted me there, in the crowd, to keep an eye on Layla. But did I want to be that kind of lookout? For the first time, I wasn't just a friend—I was part of something bigger, something tense.
I dropped my textbooks and grabbed my phone. I texted Mia:
Chloe: "You going to the mixer tonight?"
Mia: "Wasn't planning to. But… why?"
I hesitated, fingers hovering over the send button. Could I tell her why Marcus asked me? Part of me wanted to, but part of me knew I had to protect Layla—and protect Marcus's plan.
Chloe: "I got an invite. And Marcus asked me to, um, pay attention. Stay close."
A pause. Then the reply came:
Mia: "Gotcha. I'll go too. With you."
I drew a breath. Mia here would be good. She saw things. She'd help.
Later, walking to the courtyard, I felt a strange mix of excitement and dread. The air was warm, humid, and the garden was lit with soft string lights. Students clustered around tables, laughter floating on the breeze, music from a small band strumming in the corner. I tucked the invitation into my jacket pocket.
Spotting Layla by a fountain, I made my way over. She was talking to a few people—smiling—but her eyes flickered now and then, like she was watching, waiting. My heart tightened. That was exactly why Marcus asked me.
I dropped onto a nearby bench and waved at Layla. She saw me, and relief washed over her face. "Hey, Chloe," she said. Her voice was easy, but something behind her eyes was restless.
I kept it casual. "Hey. You look nice."
She giggled softly. "Thanks. You too."
As people moved around us, I listened. I watched. Not just Layla, but others: who circled near her, who drifted away. I caught a boy repeatedly glancing in her direction, then turning his attention elsewhere. I made a mental note: two minutes ago, he was near the hedges; now, he's by the punch table.
My phone buzzed softly. A message from Marcus: "Good spot. Be careful. Don't let it show."
I swallowed, fingers tightening around my phone.
Me (in my head): I can do this. For Layla.
I stayed put for a while, half-smiling, half-worried, as I scanned the crowd. My eyes flicked to Layla again—she seemed animated, genuine, but I thought I saw her glance over her shoulder, quick, like she expected someone.
When a group of students drifted past, I stood, ready to approach her—but then a familiar figure appeared: Ethan. He made his way over, careful, alert. I squared my shoulders; now wasn't the time to disappear.
He sat next to Layla on the bench, offering her a drink from his plate. She accepted, and for a moment, they leaned close, laughing softly, completely unaware of my internal tension.
I stood a little farther off, letting them have space while still observing. I tucked my hands in the pockets of my jacket, ready to text Marcus another update.
Mia POV
The campus mixer was the kind of night I usually skipped: too loud, too many people crowding into small spaces, pretending everything was fine. But when Chloe messaged me, saying she needed backup, I couldn't say no. I grabbed my sketchbook and headed into the courtyard, telling myself I'd just stick to the edges, draw, and leave early.
The garden was glowing under string lights, the grass damp from earlier humidity. The band played a mellow tune, voices and laughter floated in the air. I found a place beneath a tree, pulled out my sketchbook, and started drawing the scene: lanterns, students, shadows dancing across faces.
As I sketched, my eyes kept drifting to Chloe. She looked… tense. Careful. She wasn't just here to hang out—something was different. I watched her watch Layla and Ethan. I felt the subtle weight of Marcus's request on her, as if she carried his expectations. That made me uneasy.
I closed my sketchbook for a moment and got up, walking through the crowd to join her. Standing behind her, I saw what she saw: Layla by the fountain, Ethan approaching, that look of restlessness in her friend's eyes when she glanced over her shoulder.
"Chloe," I said softly.
She turned. Her voice was low. "Mia. Thanks for coming."
I nodded. "Marcus… did he ask you for this?"
She hesitated. "Yeah. He wants me to help, to pay attention. I'm watching."
I frowned. "Are you okay with it? With spying, kind of?"
Chloe shrugged, but there was strain on her face. "I don't know. It feels like more than just a favor."
I took a quiet breath. "Well, I'll help. You don't have to do this alone."
She gave me a grateful look. "Thanks."
We stood together, side by side, as Ethan and Layla chatted on the bench. I noticed things Chloe might miss: how Ethan shifted when certain people passed, how Layla's smile faltered when someone walked too close, how her fingers curled around her drink in a way that suggested nerves.
A student approached with a guitar case and started clearing space near a small stage set-up. The band paused, rearranging their instruments. Someone shouted something about sound check. The moment felt deliberate, like the energy in the air was shifting. I realized: this mixer was more than just a social event. It was an opportunity.
Marcus's warning replayed in my mind, not in his voice, but in the cold precision he was known for: observe, report.
So I did. I recorded a mental log of people, of moments: who lingered too long, who drifted away. I made notes in my head like beats in a scene.
I leaned closer to Chloe. "There's something off about how some people are looking at her," I whispered.
She nodded slowly. "I feel it too."
As the band began again, the crowd quieted, and Ethan stood to stretch, offering Layla his hand. She accepted, and they moved closer to the edge of the courtyard, like they were stepping into an entirely different moment—away from the lights, away from the noise.
I watched them go. In that moment, I thought I saw Layla glance back at us. Her eyes flickered over, not quite meeting mine, but enough to know she noticed. Then she looked away.
I squeezed Chloe's hand. "Let me take over," I said quietly, "I'll stay here with the view. You go talk to her."
Chloe hesitated. "Do you really think she'll listen?"
I nodded, though uncertainty buzzed in my gut. "She trusts you more than she trusts me. Just… let me know what you see."
She gave a small, relieved smile and slipped away. I sank into a nearby chair, pulling out my sketchbook again—not to draw, but to hide in. To observe without being seen.
I watched as she approached Layla, and Ethan followed. They didn't notice me. They didn't notice Chloe, either, but I could feel the tension crackling in the air around them.
I closed my eyes for a moment, breathing in the night. My role wasn't just as roommate or friend tonight—it was something else. Protective. Quiet. Essential.
And maybe, just maybe, this mixer was more than just an invitation. It might be a turning point.
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