Clara spent the rest of the school day in a state of controlled panic. By 3:30 PM, she had already drafted a three-page "Project Roadmap" in her digital planner, complete with milestone dates, potential interview subjects, and a section titled Contingency Plans for Partner Negligence.
They had agreed to meet at 'The Inkwell,' a cramped, second-hand bookstore that doubled as a cafe on the edge of the downtown district. It was exactly the kind of place Clara usually avoided—it was disorganized, smelled of espresso and dust, and the chairs didn't match.
She arrived at 4:00 PM sharp. Kai arrived at 4:12 PM, carrying a camera bag that looked like it had survived a war and wearing a faded hoodie.
"You're twelve minutes late," Clara said, not looking up from her laptop.
"I saw a cat," Kai replied, pulling out a chair and sitting down with a sigh of contentment.
Clara finally looked up, her eyebrows knitted together. "A cat?"
"A very majestic ginger cat sitting on a blue mailbox. The contrast was incredible. I had to get a shot of it." He patted his camera bag. "Composition over punctuality, Clara. It's a better way to live."
"It's a great way to fail a senior capstone," she countered, sliding her laptop around so he could see the screen. "I've mapped out the first three weeks. We'll start with the historical district on Saturday mornings, move to the industrial sector by mid-October, and—"
Kai wasn't looking at the screen. He was looking at her—specifically, at the way she was white-knuckling her coffee cup.
"Clara," he said softly, interrupting her mid-sentence. "The project is called The Human Perspective. You can't schedule humanity. You can't put a 'story' on a calendar for 10:15 AM on a Saturday."
"Everything is better with a schedule, Kai. Chaos is just a lack of preparation."
Kai leaned back, crossing his arms. "Okay, let's make a deal. A compromise. We'll call it the Sixty-Forty Rule."
Clara squinted. "Go on."
"Sixty percent of the time, we do it your way. We follow your map, we hit your deadlines, and I turn in my portions of the write-ups on time. No excuses."
Clara felt her shoulders relax by about half an inch. "And the other forty?"
"The other forty belongs to the city," Kai said, his eyes sparking with a sudden, infectious energy. "Forty percent of the time, we just walk. No GPS, no plan. If we see an interesting door, we knock on it. If we see a person with an interesting face, we talk to them. You have to put the laptop away and just... look."
Clara looked at her meticulously crafted spreadsheet. The idea of "just walking" felt like walking into a fog bank without a flashlight. It was inefficient. It was risky.
"Forty is too high," she negotiated. "Twenty-five."
"Thirty-five, and I'll handle all the darkroom film processing so you don't have to get chemicals on your hands."
Clara hesitated. She hated the idea of losing control, but she knew Mr. Harrison had paired them for a reason. If she turned in a project that was just a series of dry, scheduled facts, she wouldn't get the 'A' she needed. She needed Kai's eye, even if his brain drove her crazy.
"Thirty percent," she said, holding out her hand. "And you have to be on time for the 'scheduled' days. If you're even five minutes late for a 60% day, I get to add five percent back to my column."
Kai grinned, his hand engulfing hers. His skin was warm, and his grip was firm—not the lazy handshake she had expected. "Deal. You're a tough negotiator, President."
"I'm a realist," she corrected, though she couldn't ignore the way her heart skipped a beat when he didn't immediately let go of her hand.
"Are you?" Kai asked, his voice dropping an octave. "Because a realist would realize that your coffee has been cold for ten minutes, yet you keep sipping it like it's fuel. Relax, Clara. We have a hundred chapters of this story left to write. Don't burn out in the prologue."
He let go of her hand and stood up, slinging his camera bag over his shoulder. "I'll see you Saturday. 9:00 AM at the pier. And don't worry—I'll be there at 8:55 just to see the look of shock on your face."
As he walked out of the shop, the bell above the door chiming behind him, Clara looked down at her laptop. For the first time, the neat rows of her spreadsheet felt a little bit... empty.
She took a sip of her cold coffee and made a new note at the bottom of her document.
Rule #1: 70/30 split. (Subject to change if Kai Jenkins ruins my life).