Chapter 11 - The Long Game

Orm was spiraling. No—worse than that. She was on the verge of a full-blown mental collapse, the kind that made every step feel like a tightrope walk over a pit of snapping alligators. And that was exactly why she needed Becky and May—her self-appointed life rafts—dragging them along across campus as if she were fleeing an exploding building. If she didn't talk this out immediately, she was going to self-destruct in spectacular fashion.

"So let me get this straight," Becky panted, practically bouncing on her heels as she struggled to keep up with Orm's frantic pace. "Lingling kissed you—again—and then she justified it using contract law?"

"Yes," Orm hissed, as if uttering the word "yes" was the most scandalous confession in history. And, honestly, it was.

May tried—oh, she really tried—to hold back a laugh. But then she failed, miserably. Within seconds, Becky and May burst into uncontrollable laughter, like a pair of hyenas who'd just discovered a new joke about lawyers.

Becky clutched her stomach. "SHE ACTUALLY ARGUED IT LIKE A LEGAL CASE?!" she managed between giggles.

May, wiping away tears of laughter, added, "Orm, babe, I knew Lingling was dangerous, but this? This is NEXT LEVEL."

Orm groaned, pressing her fingers to her temples as if massaging them would untangle the mess in her head. "I was looking for moral support, not a comedy show," she muttered.

Becky grinned mischievously. "Oh no, sweetie. This is better than any rom-com I've ever seen!"

May snorted, "Seriously, she's been playing you like a fiddle all day. And now she's using LAW against you. I mean—law, for crying out loud!"

"I KNOW," Orm threw her hands in the air in exasperation. "That's the problem!"

Becky and May cackled even harder. Then, as if the universe had a wicked sense of timing, Orm's pace slowed when a voice called out, "Orm!"

Startled, Orm's heart skipped a beat. She turned around, expecting—again—the latest desperate confession from some enamored admirer. The campus was no stranger to such scenes; after all, she was the unwitting campus princess whose affections were casually traded like free samples.

Standing a few feet away was a young man, his eyes wide with hopeful vulnerability. "I just—" he began, his voice cracking as he tried to find the right words, "I just really admire you! You're incredible, and I—"

Orm's mind raced through her well-rehearsed rejection speeches. She'd perfected the art of the gentle letdown—a kind word here, a sincere apology there—to ensure that no one's fragile feelings were hurt. But before she could open her mouth to speak, the boy's eyes suddenly darted around in a moment of sheer panic.

It wasn't until the very next second that Orm noticed something wasn't right. The young man's expression shifted from hopeful to terrified in an instant. Without warning, he bolted. "I—I JUST REMEMBERED I HAVE CLASS—I'M GONNA GO!" he sputtered, and then he was off—full-speed, like a frightened rabbit escaping a prowling predator.

Orm blinked in confusion. For a split second, she was too stunned to process what had just happened. Then, slowly, she turned to see who—or what—had caused the sudden flight. And there, as if emerging from thin air, stood Lingling.

Orm's stomach dropped. She hadn't even realized Lingling was nearby until the fleeing fanboy's shock had pulled her attention away. Lingling was as calm as ever, her presence as unexpected as a pop quiz in a philosophy class. She stood silently, her posture relaxed yet unyielding, with that trademark unreadable expression that had become her signature.

Before Orm could muster a question, Lingling's voice, smooth and unfaltering, broke the silence. "Was that a negotiation tactic?"

Oh. Oh, NO. Once again, Lingling was using legal jargon to explain the inexplicable. "Didn't seem like he was making a strong enough case," she added, as if discussing a mundane contractual dispute rather than the collapse of Orm's already fragile composure.

Orm's soul practically left her body at that moment. The combination of a fleeing confession and Lingling's nonchalant quip had sent her spiraling. And then—just to drive the dagger deeper—Lingling glanced down at her with eyes that were calm but undeniably knowing. And then, as if punctuating the entire debacle, Lingling simply walked away. Just. Walked. Away. Calm, collected, as if she hadn't just upended Orm's entire existence in front of half the campus.

Orm stood rooted to the spot, unable to move—not because she was paralyzed, though that was part of it, but because her brain had completely short-circuited. The corridor buzzed with murmurs. Students whispered and stared, their eyes fixed on the spot where Lingling had made her grand exit. Whispers fluttered like leaves in the wind:

"Did you hear? They say something's really going on between Orm and Lingling..."

"Maybe the rumor is true. I mean, winning that debate and then this—it's like they're in cahoots!"

"I knew it! There's definitely something between them!"

These hushed voices grew louder as the rumor mill churned, fueled further by the fact that Orm and Lingling had just won the debate. Their victory had been the talk of the campus—an epic display of wit and legal prowess that, in the eyes of the students, only added credence to the notion that the two were more than just adversaries. Instead, they were locked in some kind of clandestine, almost scripted romance.

Then, as if orchestrated by fate itself, Becky's voice slammed into Orm like a runaway truck. "OH. MY. GOD." Before Orm could even react, May grabbed her wrist and dragged her into a nearby corner, away from the prying eyes and overexcited whispers.

"She—she just—" Becky gushed, barely able to catch her breath. "SHE DID THAT IN PUBLIC?!"

"She CALLED IT A NEGOTIATION TACTIC!" May shrieked, her laughter mingling with disbelief.

Orm groaned into her hands. "DON'T. SAY. IT. OUT LOUD."

Becky clutched her chest dramatically. "I can't—" she began, then practically collapsed into May's arms, overcome with excitement. "THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE!"

May, still grinning from ear to ear, added, "I have to admit, I didn't see that coming."

Becky sat up abruptly, eyes wide with anticipation. "What's next? Is she gonna file a legal claim for your heart?!"

"I'M LEAVING," Orm snapped, turning on her heel with the determination of someone who'd had enough. But Becky and May weren't about to let her escape.

"NOPE, NOPE, NOPE," Becky insisted, looping her arm through Orm's as if anchoring her to reality. "You're not running from this."

"I'M NOT—" Orm protested, though her voice trembled under the weight of humiliation.

"You are," May confirmed with a playful nudge.

Becky smirked. "And I gotta say, Lingling Kwong is a genius."

Orm whipped her head around, incredulous. "WHAT?!" she demanded.

"She's playing the long game," May mused, as if discussing the latest campus strategy.

"And you? You're losing," Becky concluded, barely able to contain her glee.

"SHUT UP," Orm shouted, storming off in a flurry of mixed frustration and embarrassment. But as she disappeared into the throng of students, it was clear that her suffering was only just beginning.

For the rest of the day, Orm was on edge. Every step felt like traversing a minefield of potential public humiliation. Every time she turned a corner, she half-expected Lingling to reappear out of nowhere and deliver another devastating legal quip. Every time she heard footsteps behind her, she flinched, certain that the inevitable confrontation was about to resume. She was so convinced that Lingling would reappear—so sure that she'd say something to cement her claim over Orm—that the paranoia became almost comical.

Yet the worst part was that Lingling acted completely normal. No smug glances. No teasing smirks. No snarky remarks about "consideration" or "contract law." Nothing. It was as if nothing had happened. And that, made it so much worse, because now Orm was the only one completely losing it.

Meanwhile, Lingling was just...existing. And that, in turn, was driving Orm absolutely insane.

That very afternoon, following their triumphant victory in the debate—a win that had only fanned the flames of campus gossip—Orm desperately sought refuge. The whispers in the corridor were relentless now, each one fueling the rumor that something was definitely going on between her and Lingling. Even as students celebrated the debate win, they leaned in conspiratorially, speculating in hushed tones:

"Did you see them during the debate? They were so in sync—like they were arguing over more than just legal points."

"Maybe the rumor is true. They might actually be together... or at least scheming together!"

Desperate for quiet and a break from the incessant whispers, Orm decided to hide out in the library—a supposed sanctuary where, hopefully, Lingling's magnetic presence wouldn't follow. After all, if anyone were going to be engrossed in legal texts, it surely wouldn't be Lingling, right? Wrong.

No sooner had Orm settled into a secluded nook of the library, pulling out a thick book in a vain attempt to appear studious, than the unthinkable happened. The library door swung open, and in walked Lingling. Calm. Unbothered. Perfect. And, as if to rub salt in the wound, she strolled over and sat down right across from Orm.

Orm's entire world collapsed all over again. It wasn't long before Becky and May—who had commandeered a nearby table under the guise of "studying" but mostly for their own amusement—began whispering excitedly.

"Oh my god," Becky whispered loud enough for Orm to hear.

"What's happening?!" May asked, eyes wide with disbelief.

"She's sitting RIGHT ACROSS FROM HER!" Becky exclaimed.

"I swear, she's playing mind games at this point," May added, her tone a mix of awe and amusement.

Meanwhile, Orm struggled mightily to maintain some semblance of normalcy. She stared at Lingling, desperately waiting for some kind of acknowledgment—a comment, a smirk, even a single word that might explain this madness. But Lingling simply flipped open her book and began reading, as if nothing had occurred. As if she hadn't just upended Orm's entire sense of reality, claimed her in public, and driven her to the brink of a nervous breakdown.

Orm's anxiety began to spiral again. Becky and May were practically dying from laughter at her expense.

"She's going to break. I can see it happening," May whispered conspiratorially.

"Give her five minutes—tops," Becky added confidently.

Orm gritted her teeth. She was determined not to lose this time. She would stay normal. She would outlast Lingling's cool indifference, no matter how impossible it seemed. Taking a deep breath, she silently vowed that she wouldn't let Lingling win—she had to regain control of her own life, one embarrassing moment at a time.

Lingling, meanwhile, turned the page of her book with the same calm precision that had become her signature. Not a flicker of emotion, not a hint of distraction. And then—just like that—Orm lost it completely. The pressure, the humiliation, the absurdity of it all overwhelmed her. The words in her head became a jumbled mess, and her face betrayed her inner panic.

For a moment, time seemed to slow. The only sounds were the soft rustle of turning pages and the distant hum of the library's air conditioning. Orm's vision blurred as she fought back tears and stifled a silent scream, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure everyone in the library could hear it. In that moment, she realized that Lingling's quiet indifference wasn't mercy—it was a deliberate, calculated move. Lingling was playing a long game, and Orm was now caught in the middle of it.

The whispers outside grew louder. "Did you see that? Orm's lost it!" someone murmured. "I can't believe she's freaking out in the library!" another voice added. Even the disapproving glare of the librarian from behind a stack of legal journals couldn't drown out the scandal.

And as Orm sat there, teetering on the brink of a full-blown breakdown, she understood one inescapable truth: no matter how many times she tried to run, hide, or reason with herself, Lingling's presence was an inescapable, infuriating, and utterly brilliant force that had completely upended her life.

In that moment—amid the chaos of whispered rumors, heartfelt laughter from her friends, and her own mounting despair—Orm realized that her life had transformed into a bizarre, darkly comedic legal drama. She was the unwilling star, caught in a tangled web of public declarations, unspoken contracts, and absurd court-like showdowns. And as she stared across the table at Lingling—who simply read on as if nothing had happened—Orm couldn't help but think: if this is the price of being the campus princess, maybe, just maybe, it wasn't all that bad.

But then again, as she fought back another surge of panic, she resolved one thing for certain: the next time Lingling decided to "negotiate," she'd be ready—with a pair of running shoes and maybe even a contract of her own. Because in this twisted game of legal one-upmanship, Orm knew that losing wasn't an option—not when her heart, her pride, and her sanity were all on the line.

And that, is how Orm spent one of the most surreal, anxiety-fueled, and utterly hilarious days of her life—teetering between outrage and laughter, between legal jargon and raw emotion—all while desperately trying to keep it together in a world where a kiss could be both a declaration of love and a legally binding contract.

The campus buzzed with scandal, the library echoed with whispers, and Lingling remained as cool and inscrutable as ever. Yet, through it all, Orm was determined to fight back—one nervous, exasperated, and downright comical step at a time.