The Scumbag's Guide To Heroism novel Chapter 379

Chapter 379: 379 | Logistical Challenges

We left the locker room and the conversation behind, but something about Percy’s face stuck with me as I walked toward the cafeteria. The raw honesty of it. The way he’d admitted his fear without trying to dress it up in analytical language first.

I’d spent so long managing my own deceptions that I’d forgotten what it looked like when someone just said the thing they were actually feeling.

The cafeteria was half-empty at this hour, most students either still recovering from Radiant’s training or scattered across campus chasing their own agendas. I grabbed a tray and loaded it with whatever looked edible, which at Halloran meant approximately sixty percent of the available options. The ramen station was closed. I filed a mental complaint.

"You look thoughtful."

Felicity materialized beside me like she’d been waiting for the exact moment I reached the drink station. Her timing was supernatural. Possibly literally, given what her Aspect could do.

"Dangerous accusation," I said. "I have a reputation to maintain."

"Mmm." She grabbed a bottle of sparkling water and examined it like it contained secrets. "Percy looked weird when he left the building. Weirder than usual. You have anything to do with that?"

"Caden and I may have encouraged him to pursue romantic interests."

Felicity’s eyebrows climbed toward her hairline. "You gave Percy dating advice."

"Caden gave Percy dating advice. I provided moral support and occasional reality checks."

"That’s somehow worse." She fell into step beside me as I headed toward an empty table near the windows. The afternoon light caught her hair, turning the blonde into something closer to gold, and I had to actively remind myself that I’d spent a significant portion of yesterday afternoon with her in my lap in a dark theater.

The memory arrived with accompanying sensory details I hadn’t requested.

We sat across from each other, and Felicity immediately stole one of my fries. I let her because fighting Felicity Hardy for food was a losing battle and I’d learned to pick my conflicts.

"So," she said around the fry. "The Crucible."

"The Crucible."

"You’re going to be in a burning building with me, Sloane, Camille, and Petra simultaneously."

"I’m aware of the logistical challenges."

"Logistical challenges." She laughed, bright and genuine. "That’s what we’re calling it. Okay. I can work with that."

I ate my food and watched her watch me, because Felicity Hardy never did anything without purpose and her current purpose appeared to be making me uncomfortable through sustained eye contact alone. It was working.

"You’re not worried," she said finally. It wasn’t a question.

"I’m always worried. I’m just good at hiding it."

"No, you’re not." She leaned forward, elbows on the table, chin resting on her interlaced fingers. The position did interesting things to her neckline that I was pretending very hard not to notice because I’d spent enough time with her yesterday that pretending was becoming a genuine survival skill. "You’re good at redirecting. There’s a difference. When you’re actually worried, you make jokes that don’t quite land. The timing is off by maybe half a second and the delivery is too tight. When you’re pretending to be worried, the jokes are perfect. Smooth. No friction."

"That’s disturbingly accurate."

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify