Chapter Eight: Static Lines
878 Words
Writer’s POV
The announcement hit Mila like a shockwave.
She and Xavier Reed — representing Manchester High at the upcoming Tech Expo.
The same boy who’d called her “princess” with a smirk, who seemed to find joy in getting under her skin, who’d somehow gotten tangled in her search for the hacker.
Now, officially her partner.
Of course.
She forced a polite smile as her father and Mr. Reed celebrated their “kids working together.”
Xavier leaned against the armrest, expression unreadable, though there was a faint curve at the corner of his lips.
“Well, this should be fun,” he muttered.
“Define fun,” Mila replied coolly.
He chuckled, low and quiet. “You’ll see.”
*****
The Next Day — School Tech Room
Rows of old computers and wires filled the air with a faint buzz of electricity. The school’s tech club was supposed to help them prepare, but Mila and Xavier had been left alone to “get to know each other’s workflow.”
Translation: tolerate each other.
Mila sat at the main desk, pulling up blueprints for the expo’s coding display. Xavier leaned against the counter, spinning a pen between his fingers like he had all the time in the world.
“We need a project concept,” she said, typing fast. “Something that stands out but fits the theme — innovation through AI.”
“Already ahead of you,” he said, flipping a notebook toward her. “Smart surveillance interface. Tracks system breaches in real-time.”
Her hands stilled.
That was too close to what they were investigating.
She looked up slowly. “Why that idea?”
He shrugged. “Because it’s relevant. And because someone’s already proving how weak the school’s system is.”
“You mean the hacker,” she said quietly.
He met her gaze. “Exactly.”
*****
Mila’s POV
The way he said it — calm, certain — sent a ripple of unease down her spine.
She didn’t like agreeing with him, but he wasn’t wrong.
If they used this project right, it could double as a way to track whoever was behind the fake footage.
Still, she refused to let him lead.
“I’ll handle the programming,” she said firmly. “You can work on the interface design.”
He smirked. “So I do the fun part.”
“I said the visual part.”
“Same thing.”
She glared. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re bossy.”
“Efficient,” she corrected.
He grinned wider. “Keep telling yourself that, princess.”
Her jaw tightened. “Call me that again, and I’ll change the password on every system we build.”
His laugh echoed in the quiet room — infuriating, low, and just a bit genuine.
*****
Writer’s POV
Hours passed in tense silence.
Every click of the keyboard sounded like a challenge. Every time he leaned over to check her code, she shifted away — but not fast enough to miss the faint scent of smoke and mint that clung to him.
They didn’t talk much, but the air between them was alive — sharp, electric, like lightning before rain.
Finally, Xavier leaned back, stretching. “You know, for someone who hates me, you work pretty well with me.”
Mila didn’t look up. “I don’t hate you.”
He blinked. “You don’t?”
“I just don’t trust you,” she said simply.
He smiled faintly. “Good. Keep it that way.”
*****
After School — Rooftop
Later that evening, Mila found herself on the school rooftop, laptop balanced on her knees. The code they were building was powerful — maybe too powerful. If she could just tweak a few security lines, she might be able to cross-check the footage herself.
Footsteps approached behind her.
She didn’t have to look to know who it was.
“Let me guess,” she said. “You followed me.”
“Not really,” Xavier replied, dropping down beside her. “You’re just loud when you sneak around.”
“Maybe you’re just good at spying.”
“Occupational skill,” he said with a grin.
She ignored the joke, typing fast. The screen glowed on both their faces in the dim light.
He glanced at the code. “You’re improving the search matrix.”
“Trying to isolate IP signatures from the night of the hack,” she said quietly. “If I can link one to a school account, we’ll have a name.”
He whistled softly. “You’re not afraid to bend rules when it suits you, huh?”
“Rules are for people who don’t know what they’re looking for,” she said, eyes never leaving the screen.
He looked at her for a long moment — thoughtful, maybe even impressed — before standing.
“Fine. You trace. I’ll dig for info offline. We’ll see who cracks the case first.”
She finally looked up, her expression calm but confident. “Try not to get caught, Reed.”
He smirked. “Try to keep up, Miller.”
And just like that, they walked off in opposite directions — two storms on a collision course neither of them could avoid.
- Writer
