Chapter 202: Over-explaining

NORA’S POV

The crunch of snow under our boots was the only sound on the wooded path, until Bear’s frantic voice crackled through Knox’s phone.

"I’m telling you, Sheridan, the girl is either comatose or kidnapped," he said over the speaker. His truck engine rumbled in the background. "I pounded on Room 304 until my knuckles were bruised. The RA on duty said she hasn’t seen Priya since Wednesday night. If she doesn’t pick up in two minutes, I’m finding a crowbar."

"Bear, put the crowbar down," Knox said calmly, his deep voice carrying over the rustling pines. "You kick down a dorm door at high noon on Black Friday and Brennan will have you running stadium stairs until graduation."

"But what if she needs help?" Bear asked.

Right as I was about to grab the phone to calm him down, my own coat pocket buzzed.

Then it buzzed again.

And again.

I yanked off my mitten with my teeth and fished my phone out of my jacket. The screen was glowing with three incoming texts from Priya, each one longer and more hysterical than the last.

I tapped the screen, my eyes scanning the wall of blue text.

Priya: TELL THE TWO-HUNDRED-AND-FIFTY-POUND LUMBERJACK TO STAND DOWN!

Priya: I am alive! My phone was on Do Not Disturb in the basement stacks of the law library! I completely lost track of time cross-referencing footnote 14 on Vance v. Department of Commerce for seminar! There is literally negative cell reception down two sub-levels!

Priya: My battery is at four percent, but I am walking back across the quad to North Hall right this second. Tell Bear to leave the pie with the front desk and DO NOT LET HIM BREAK MY DOOR!

A burst of air rushed out of my lungs in a stunned laugh.

"Bear, stand down," I called out, leaning toward Knox’s phone. "She just texted me. She’s alive."

The speaker went completely silent for three full seconds.

"She’s alive?" Bear echoed, his voice dropping an octave into pure disbelief. "Where the hell was she?"

"In the basement stacks of the law library," I said, reading the message off my screen. "Her phone was on Do Not Disturb, and she lost track of time researching. She’s walking back to North Hall right now."

A loud, exasperated groan echoed from the truck’s cab.

"Unbelievable," Bear grumbled. "Only Patel would spend Black Friday locked in a concrete dungeon arguing with a law book. I’ve been sitting out here in freezing slush for twenty-five minutes nursing a hot casserole dish like a newborn baby."

"Leave it with the front desk RA like she asked," Knox suggested, a faint smirk tugging at his mouth. "She’ll get it when she walks in."

"Yeah, fine," Bear sighed, though the tension had completely drained from his tone. "I’m handing off the pot pie and heading back to the SinBin. Jake bought three cases of ginger ale and claims he’s setting up an indoor putting green in the hallway. See you guys Sunday."

"See you Sunday, Bear," Knox said, tapping the red button to end the call.

He slid his phone into his jacket, letting out a low chuckle. "Crisis averted. Your best friend is safe, and Bear can stop playing campus vigilante."

I didn’t answer right away.

I stopped walking, staring down at the glowing screen in my palm. The winter sun bounced off the glass, illuminating Priya’s message in crystal clarity.

Footnote 14 on Vance v. Department of Commerce.

My eyebrows pulled together.

"Something wrong, Bennett?" Knox asked, stopping a pace ahead of me and turning back.

"I don’t know," I murmured, tilting my head. "It’s just... footnote 14 of Vance v. Department of Commerce was the exact constitutional brief she already delivered on Tuesday morning. She spent all of Monday night pacing our living room rehearsing it until she had every line memorized. The oral arguments for that case are completely over."

Knox stepped closer, reaching out to wrap his warm, gloved hand over mine. "So why would she still be studying it?" he asked, amused.

"That’s what I’m wondering," I said, tapping my chin with my gloved thumb. "The grading rubric for that unit closed before Thanksgiving break started. Why would Priya spend Black Friday morning in a freezing basement stacks sub-level cross-referencing an argument she already finished?"

Knox let out a soft laugh, pulling my hand up to tuck it snugly into the warm pocket of his winter coat.

"You know how Priya is, Nora," he said easily, brushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear. "She’s a ruthless perfectionist. She probably replayed the debate in her head, realized she missed some obscure clause, and decided to spend her morning proving her professor wrong just to satisfy her ego. Don’t overthink it."

I looked up at his handsome face, taking in the relaxed ease in his gray eyes.

"Yeah," I said softly, offering him a small smile. "You’re probably right. She’s just being an overzealous law nerd."

Knox grinned and tugged me forward, resuming our stride along the snow-covered lane toward Elm Street.

I walked beside him in silence, but beneath my calm exterior, my brain was spinning at a hundred miles an hour.

Knox bought the explanation because he didn’t know Priya the way I did.

Priya was ambitious, yes. She was competitive to a fault. But she wasn’t sloppy, and she never wasted precious study hours on completed assignments when she had three final exams looming in December.

More importantly, I had lived with Priya Patel for two years.

I knew her tells.

When Priya was telling the truth, she was sarcastic, and concise. She would have texted a simple, annoyed: Tell that six-foot-giant to go away, I had my ringer off.

She wouldn’t have typed out an entire multi-sentence defensive thesis complete with course titles, sub-level locations, and specific legal citations.

She was over-explaining.

And when Priya over-explained, it meant one thing and one thing only.

She was lying.

She was hiding something massive, and she was scrambling to cover her tracks.

I shoved my phone deeper into my pocket, keeping my thoughts to myself. Whatever Priya was getting up to, I wasn’t going to drag Knox into the middle of it while he was finally relaxing in Oakhaven.

I would corner her in Room 304 on Sunday night and pry the truth out of her myself.