Renting a car was tedious. I knew it from the moment I dialed the agency's number and had to repeat my information three times because apparently, the person on the other end had the attention span of a goldfish. Finally, after fifteen minutes of unnecessary questions and spelling out my last name with more patience than I usually have, the process was complete.
A Cadillac Escalade. Spacious, comfortable, and imposing enough so Olivia wouldn't complain that the car "had no personality." Plus, I paid extra to have it delivered early to campus, avoiding any unnecessary delays.
I hung up the call and sighed.
Definitely, buying a new car once the quarter ended seemed like a much more practical option. Not having to deal with reservations, contracts, and incompetent operators sounded like a luxury worth considering.
When I returned to campus, Olivia was probably already in her room, asleep. It wasn't surprising. Finals week had been hell, and although she insisted she had unlimited energy, even she had her limits. Hopefully, she'd slept enough not to complain during the trip.
On the other hand, Lindsay was sitting on one of the benches at Hoover Tower Lawn, a small park within the campus known for its large trees and tranquil views. But now, under the dim light of the street lamps, the place had a different feel: mysterious and serene. She was checking something on her phone while the night breeze moved her hair. I approached and sat next to her.
"What are you doing?" I asked, watching as the screen's glow illuminated her face.
"Planning what to bring for the trip," she replied without looking up. "But I'm not sure if we're forgetting something important."
"Olivia would think the only essential thing is her travel playlist."
Lindsay laughed softly and then looked up at me.
"Maybe we should let her decide that. At least that way, we'll have some peace."
"I doubt it'll work," I said, crossing my arms. "You know how she is."
There was a brief silence as we both stared at the dark grass in front of us. The nighttime atmosphere made everything feel more intimate, as if the world outside the campus simply disappeared.
"You know," Lindsay said after a moment, her tone lighter, "lately, you've been calmer. Or did you finally learn to control your infamous anger outbursts?"
I rolled my eyes. I knew exactly what she meant.
"Don't exaggerate. It wasn't that bad."
"Oh, really? Because I could swear that a few months ago, you almost gave a waiter a heart attack at that country club when he spilled juice on you."
I remembered that day clearly. It had been during a formal event where my father and Lindsay's parents were finalizing an agreement about the hospital expansion. But it wasn't just that. That day… it was my mother's birthday. Or at least it would have been, if she were still alive. My father didn't even mention it. For him, that day was like any other. But for me… it was an open wound that never fully healed.
And then it happened. The waiter, nervous and clumsy, tripped near me and spilled juice on my shirt. It was an accident, but something inside me exploded. Not just because of the mistake itself, but because it reminded me of everything . The reason I hate incompetence, negligence, mistakes that could have been avoided. My mother… her death shouldn't have happened. If people had done their jobs properly, if they had paid attention, maybe she'd still be here.
Lindsay noticed my change in mood. She didn't know the details of what had happened with my mother, but she had always been good at reading my emotions. Without saying anything, she placed a hand on my arm and gave it a gentle squeeze, as if trying to calm me down.
"It was an accident, but it wasn't that big of a deal," I muttered, trying to downplay it.
"Of course it was," Lindsay said with a mischievous smile. "You turned as red as a tomato and practically made him cry. If I hadn't calmed you down, you probably would've demanded to speak to the manager."
"That's exaggerating," I replied, though I knew she was right.
"Whatever," she said, leaning back and resting her elbows on the bench. "But I admit, I'm surprised there haven't been more incidents lately. It seems like you're softening."
"Or maybe I'm just surrounded by less incompetent people," I responded, lightly tapping her forehead with my finger.
She exaggeratedly frowned and then, without warning, leaned a little closer.
"Or maybe someone is influencing you for the better," she murmured with a mischievous smile.
I felt a slight tingle at the back of my neck. Lindsay had this ability to read me better than most, and although I usually kept a barrier up with almost everyone, with her, that barrier blurred without me even realizing it.
"Influence, huh?" I murmured, looking closely at her. "And what makes you think someone could influence me?"
"Let's just say I have my methods," she replied, resting her elbow on the back of the bench and looking at me with amusement. "And so far, they seem to be working."
I couldn't help the faint smile that formed on my lips. I wasn't the type of person who gave in easily, but with Lindsay, the rules seemed to change without me noticing.
"Let's say you're right," I said finally. "Does that mean you're going to take credit for my apparent improvement in character?"
"Absolutely," she responded without hesitation. "And I'll use it in my defense when you eventually go back to your natural state of demanding dictator."
I shook my head, amused, and without thinking too much, I raised a hand and played with a strand of her hair between my fingers. It was soft, and Lindsay didn't make any attempt to pull away. In fact, she seemed to enjoy it.
"We'll see how long this supposed influence of yours lasts," I murmured.
She just smiled and rested her head on my shoulder, as if the gesture was the most natural thing in the world. And the worst part was that it felt natural to me too.