And this was how Clara found herself in the campus library a few days later, Freddie's laptop on her knees, working her way through the recording and mixing software she had pirated. "This obviously can't replace good recording equipment," she explained to him in an undertone, her eyes glued to the half dozen tabs explaining the intricacies of the program. "But I think your main problem is with mixing, so this should help you already."

Nodding, Freddie leaned over her shoulder, studying the screen, his face laser-focused. "And you really got all that illegally?"

"Sure," said Clara, taking a sip of coffee. "These things are overpriced anyway, so why bother paying?"

Snorting, he leaned back, eyes glinting oddly as he studied her face. "Breaking the law for us," he muttered, his expression somewhere between amusement and concern. "One of these days we'll get you in trouble."

"Hey, this was my idea," she replied at once, pushing back the laptop. "If anything I'm getting myself in trouble."

"For us."

"And for the statement," she said. He still looked unconvinced, and with a smirk she added, "Plus, it's not like they can trace it back to me anyway."

A sudden realization dawned on Freddie's face, and he almost choked on his soda. "You'd throw us under the bus!"

"Yup."

Now he was staring at her like she had grown a second head, and with a shake of her head she softened. "Just kidding," she said. "If you get anyone charging you money for this—if it happens—of course I'd help you. It was my idea, right?"

Shaking his head, he watched her from the side, bright eyes unusually sharp as they roamed over every inch of her face, searching for something she couldn't comprehend. Suddenly self-conscious, she brushed her hair out of her face, turning around to meet that stare head-on. "What's wrong?"

He gave himself a small shake. "Nothing," he said. "You're a confusing person, that's all."

Raising an eyebrow, she reached for her coffee again, eyeing him over the rim of her to-go cup. "Good confusing or bad confusing?"

"I'm not sure," he admitted. "But I like it."

Clara had no idea what that was supposed to mean, and she wasn't sure she wanted to know. "Anyway, that's done," she said, pushing the laptop aside and rising from her chair with a big stretch. "And I still have…" She checked the time. "Half an hour to kill before my next class."

Freddie rose up with her. "I still have time too," he said. "One of mine got canceled today. What am I supposed to do with myself all day now?"

She turned towards the door, regarding him from below. "The rebellious future rock star is sad he's missing a class?"

"Not just a class!" he replied, spinning on the spot. "This is about building our future, it's about the grind! It's about doing something you love even when the whole world is telling you it'll never pay off! How's that not rock-and-roll enough for you?"

Just for a moment, envy shot through her, paired with admiration. "Point taken," she said with a smile. "I can't believe your parents let you do this."

Freddie's expression softened, and very briefly she resisted the urge to clamp a hand over her mouth. That had been a careless comment, she told herself. What if she'd misread it and hit a sore spot? The last thing she wanted to do was pour salt in anyone's wounds.

But before she could take back the comment, Freddie's face lit up, and she relaxed again. "I know! They're the best," he said warmly. "And they know I can't do anything else," he added with a wry smile.

The envy faded, quickly replaced by a pang of shame. "No other options?"

He shook his head. "It's either this or nothing."

"Hmm." She pushed the door open, recoiling from the cold November wind blasting into her face. "So failure's not an option for you either, huh?"

"Never has been."

She turned that over in her mind. A risky choice he had made there, and yet he made it sound like it had barely been a choice at all. Like, despite everything, it was still his best option—his only option. What was it like, living like that? What was it like to know you had nothing to fall back on, no safe career paths or job prospects, only an uncertain future in a volatile industry?

In a way, she mused, she should be asking Giselle the same questions. But Giselle was different; she already had one foot in the door, and she had her teen show money to cover her until she made it back into business. What did Freddie have? Did he have any safety net at all?

"So how do you survive till then?" she asked, strolling across the campus beside him. "Random jobs?"

He nodded. "Anything I can find," he said. "Right now it's the movie theater and bartending on weekends. If it's the graveyard shift, I take it."

Intrigued, she opened her mouth to ask him more, but at that moment he gave a jolt and ducked into the nearest doorway. "Hang on," he said. "Let's wait here for a second."

Clara furrowed her brow. "Someone you know?"

"Yeah, she's a…" He glanced over his shoulder, then grimaced. "It's complicated."

Searching the crowd, she tried to figure out who he was looking at, but it was impossible to tell. "Ex?"

"No!" he burst out at once. "Not even—just someone I've gone on a few dates with. We're still talking, but…"

"…you don't want to talk to her right now," she completed the sentence. "Or be seen talking to another girl, I'm guessing?"

Rubbing a hand over his face, he leaned against the wall, ducking away from the people brushing past him. "I could explain that one," he admitted. "I'm just not in the mood to talk to her. I wouldn't even know what to say."

Part of Clara wanted to ask why he was trying to date her then, but the better part of her understood perfectly. "It's like running into a classmate at the grocery store, right?" she said. "You're not prepared to talk to them, so you hide and pretend you didn't notice them."

His eyes widened, and his face lit up, genuine relief sparking to life in his smile. "That's exactly it!" he burst out. "I've been trying to explain it to people for ages—"

"Freddie, is that you?"

He gave a jolt. Clara turned around and found herself faced with a pretty girl around both their age, slim and graceful, with dark eyes and soft brown curls and a hint of freckles on her face. It was a gentle face, she thought, giving her a quick once-over. This stranger wasn't her type—too put together, too pretty in that conventional way that felt alien to her—but she could definitely tell what he saw in her.

"Hazel," he greeted her, pushing off the wall and straightening his back. "You here too?"

She smiled. "Thought it was you," she said, leaning on the wall at his side. "What are you doing on our campus?"

Freddie's eyes flitted over to Clara, who had to bite back a grin. At a glance, she doubted the truth would be an option. It wasn't like you could tell your crush you had gone over so your friend could install a pirated copy of a software on your laptop, right?

Taking mercy on him, she smiled. "He needed help with some tech stuff, so I fixed it for him," she said. "Right?"

Tense shoulders visibly relaxing, Freddie flashed her a grateful smile and nodded. "She's a friend," he told Hazel. "Lately she's been helping our band out with all sorts of things, like designs and promotion."

Hazel turned to her, smiling openly. "Nice to meet you!" she said. "I didn't know there was that much going on with that band of yours," she added to Freddie. "You never talk about it."

He looked down at his hands, rubbing his face again before he gave a quick laugh. "It's not that interesting," he said. "Maybe someday you'll see the results, but…"

"Okay," Hazel said and didn't question it further. "So how have you been doing?"

Clara watched them for another few moments, then she subtly backed out. Freddie didn't look like he needed her around right now; and she didn't want to intrude on other people's conversations either, not in a situation like this. Idly, she hung around, waiting to see if he'd come back or leave with Hazel. Should she grab a snack in the meantime? She probably should, even if she wasn't all that hungry. But on the other hand she couldn't be bothered to wander off that far.

"Hey," said a voice behind her.

For several seconds it didn't register that the voice had been talking to her at all. Then she slowly turned around, blinking up at a tall, well-dressed guy whose face she dimly remembered. "Uh, hi," she said.

He stepped closer, flashing a smile, his sharp eyes briefly flitting over her shoulder towards Freddie. "The guy you were talking to ditched you for some girl, huh," he said. "I saw it. Sorry that happened."

Clara took a step back. "It's fine," she replied.

"You think?" he said, raising an eyebrow. "I think it's unfair. You're such an interesting person and he forgets you the second a pretty girl walks in? If you ask me, he doesn't deserve you."

Oh, she thought, he was one of those guys. Great timing. "Okay," she said slowly.

"Sorry. You don't remember me," he concluded. "I sit behind you in our next class, I've always wanted to talk to you. Are you free right now?"

Clara glanced back over her shoulder. In his own conversation Freddie seemed tense too, but he didn't look unhappy. "Not really," she said.

"Why, still hoping that guy will come back to you? Stop hoping." He scoffed. "He's one of those guys who only care about a woman's looks. Why not come along for a coffee, have some actually interesting conversation? You and I both know you'd like that better anyway."

Clara suppressed a sigh.

"It's not like that," she said coolly, not bothering with a smile or more words than absolutely necessary. "That guy is my friend."

"Doesn't look like a very good 'friend' right now," he replied, forming air quotes around the word. "But if he's just a friend, what's stopping you? You have time, right?"

Clara aggressively avoided his eyes. "I already have plans, but thanks," she said. "And I'm not trying to meet anyone new right now."

"Why not?" He smirked down at her, and she bristled. "You got a boyfriend or what?"

Now that Clara had a response ready for, a code she and Giselle had agreed on years ago. "Girlfriend," she said.

The guy blinked, then he snorted. "You saying you're a lesbian?"

Clara didn't comment on that. Years of trial and error had taught her that, in a pinch, there was no correct answer here. "I'm saying I'm taken," she said instead.

"Well, where is that girlfriend of yours? I don't see her," the guy said with a sweeping gesture. Then a realization sparked in his face, and he leaned closer, lowering his voice. "But I know the code," he added. "You girls tell people you're 'lesbians' because you're scared of creeps, right?" He made air quotes again. "I get it. Look, I won't hurt you."

Clara took another step back. "There is no code," she replied flatly. "I have a girlfriend and I love her. That's all."

"Come on, I just told you you don't have to feed me that! I know," he insisted. "I keep telling you I'm not a creep, so what's the big idea? All I did was ask you to get coffee!"

"And I already told you, I'm not interested."

"You're so stubborn." There it was again, that smirk, and Clara found herself wondering what would happen if she just turned and walked away. "You think I'm an idiot? I can see you're way too hot to be a lesbian."

Clara's face was coldly blank. But at her sides, almost imperceptively, the tips of her fingers twitched.

"Oh," she said coolly, slowly, her gaze lazily drifting up to meet his. "I get it now. You're one of those guys."

For the first time in their entire interaction, he looked taken aback. "What does that mean?"

"You think you know women," she said, crossing her arms in slow motion. "Except you don't listen to us, and you don't care what we have to say, and you don't know a damn thing. You think you're in a dating sim and if you just hit the right dialogue options, you can get us into bed."

He backed away a step. "What does that have to do with anything?"

She lifted her chin.

"I was calling you a creep," she said flatly. "You're a goddamn weirdo and I don't want to be friends with you. Any more questions?"

Little by little, the message sank in.

"Don't tell me," he said, the superficial charm in his face giving way to real hatred. "You're actually in love with that little 'girlfriend' of yours?"

Clara didn't blink. "That's right."

"Embarrassing."

The guy's voice dropped. Gone was the playful edge, the cocky light-heartedness. "Wow, look at you! You're so special with your little girlfriend, no boys allowed! I can't believe I thought you were interesting." He scoffed. "I would've treated you right, but turns out you're just an ugly little—"

He never finished that sentence.

Before he could say the last word, two arms had closed around him, putting him in a headlock and covering his mouth.

"Finish that sentence," Freddie said sharply, close to his ear, "and I'll finish your life, punk."