Dear Roommate Please Stop Being Hot [BL]-Chapter 227: Parallel Lines

The clock crept toward noon, and the soft buzz of computers dulled under the lazy hum of hunger.

Papers were stacked, pens dropped into mugs, and chairs rolled back one by one.

Bella stretched her arms high above her head. "Lunch?" she announced to no one in particular, already reaching for her purse.

Luca stood too, rolling his sleeves up. "Yeah, let’s go before Georgia decides she’s got another file for us to ’just quickly review.’"

"Wait—" Bella spun to him with a grin. "You’re buying mine, remember?"

Luca froze mid-step. "Oh, come on, you’re really holding me to that?"

Her grin widened. "You promised, and I’m a woman of accountability."

Across the room, Wei Chen chuckled quietly as he packed up his laptop. "Man, you should’ve learned by now—don’t make deals with Bella on an empty stomach."

Camila glanced between them, curious. "Why’s Luca buying her lunch?"

Bella and Luca exchanged a glance. Then Bella said, "Oh, just a friendly debt. He owes me from earlier."

"Friendly debt, huh?" Camila arched a brow, half-smiling.

Luca shoved his hands in his pockets. "Don’t read into it, Cami. It’s just food."

Bella nudged him. "Food and payback."

They all laughed lightly, filing out together.

Camila lingered just behind them, her gaze softening.

She didn’t say a word, didn’t have to.

She’d caught the subtle flicker in Luca’s expression earlier—how his mood shifted when he saw Noel walking beside Max.

She slipped her hand into Wei Chen’s as they followed. "They think they’re being discreet," she murmured.

Wei Chen smiled knowingly. "Let them. It’s kind of sweet."

The elevator dinged open, bright and humming with chatter.

Bella was already debating sushi or pasta; Luca pretended not to care but secretly hoped she wouldn’t pick something too expensive.

The doors closed around them, sealing in the quiet camaraderie of friends—each lost in their own little thoughts, but together just the same.

The cafeteria hummed with the midday rhythm—forks clinking, conversations blending into a steady backdrop of warmth and noise.

Sunlight spilled through the wide glass windows, soft and lazy, catching on the silver trays and steam from the open buffet line.

Bella leaned forward, elbows on the table, stabbing at her pasta. "Okay, this isn’t bad. Not as good as last time, but edible."

Luca sat across from her, peeling the wrapper off his bottled drink. "That’s what you said about last time too."

"That’s because last one wasn’t bad either," she said, mouth already full. "You really need to stop expecting five-star cuisine from a corporate cafeteria."

Camila laughed softly beside her. "You two sound like an old married couple."

Bella shot her a grin. "That’s because he owes me lunch, and I’m milking it for all it’s worth."

Luca groaned. "You’re never letting that go, are you?"

"Not in this lifetime."

Wei Chen settled in beside Camila. "I think Luca’s learning the golden rule—never bet with Bella."

"Exactly," Camila added, twirling her spoon. "She’ll remember it even after retirement."

Luca leaned back in his chair, pretending to surrender. "Alright, fine. I’ll consider this a valuable life lesson. You win."

Bella smirked, pointing at him with her fork. "As always."

The group fell into easy laughter, the kind that came from familiarity—inside jokes layered over months of shared deadlines and late-night project crunches.

Camila nudged Wei Chen lightly. "It’s been a while since we all sat like this. Georgia’s been burying us in work lately."

Wei Chen shrugged, smiling faintly. "Yeah, but it’s nice. Feels normal."

Bella’s fork paused mid-air. "You think Georgia’s even eating today? She’s been living off coffee and vengeance lately."

Luca chuckled. "If I had to manage us, I’d do the same."

Camila tilted her head, amused. "You mean if you had to manage you."

Wei Chen grinned. "Imagine that. Luca as team lead."

Bella snorted. "Oh please. We’d all get fired in a week. The company would go up in flames."

"Correction," Luca said, smirking. "We’d innovate the flames. Strategically."

They all laughed again, a light, unforced sound that fit the warm cafeteria air.

Around them, plates clattered and the low hum of chatter filled every corner.

Camila rested her chin on her hand, her gaze wandering. "You know... it’s weird. A few weeks ago, we barely knew each other. Now it feels like we’ve been doing this forever."

Bella softened. "Yeah. I mean, we’ve seen each other’s breakdowns during presentation week. That’s basically a trauma bond."

Luca raised his drink. "To surviving group projects and emotional damage."

They clinked cups, half-laughing, half-serious.

"To surviving Georgia," Wei Chen added, and that made them all laugh again—louder this time.

As the laughter faded, Luca leaned back, eyes drifting toward the cafeteria entrance.

He caught sight of familiar silhouettes—Noel and Mr. Max, walking in together, mid-conversation.

He froze for half a second, something unreadable flickering through his expression before he blinked it away.

Bella followed his gaze instinctively, then quickly kicked his leg under the table. "Don’t," she whispered, her tone light but her eyes knowing. "You’re not allowed to spiral on my lunch tab."

Luca’s mouth twitched. "I’m not spiraling."

"Good. Then you can pay for dessert too."

That earned a small laugh from him, and she smiled, satisfied.

Camila caught the moment—quietly, subtly—and her expression softened.

She saw the way Luca’s shoulders straightened after Bella’s teasing, how his mood lightened, even if just a little.

Across the cafeteria, Noel didn’t notice them.

He and Max were talking, the kind of focused, easy conversation that came naturally when work mixed with charm.

Bella leaned toward Luca again, whispering, "Don’t look so obvious, Romeo. He’s not going anywhere."

Luca glanced down at his food, a small smile playing on his lips. "Didn’t say I was looking."

She arched a brow. "Mm-hmm."

Camila hid a grin behind her spoon. "You two really are like an old married couple."

Luca groaned softly, rubbing his temple. "I’m starting to regret buying lunch."

Bella leaned back, satisfied. "No refunds."

The group’s laughter rippled through the table once more—soft, familiar, unhurried—while the cafeteria hummed on around them.

The conference room smelled faintly of coffee and printer ink—a professional battlefield dressed in glass and polished steel.

The long oval table gleamed under the recessed lights, and the air felt clipped, precise, heavy with the weight of deadlines.

Mr. Max sat at the head, posture calm but firm, flipping open the file he’d brought from downstairs.

Noel sat beside him, notebook open, pen poised but still. He’d been told to "observe and learn," and from the way the room tensed the moment Mr. Tan spoke, he understood why.

"Two weeks delay," Mr. Tan began, his voice measured but sharp. "That’s not a small hiccup, Max. Customs clearance or not, our partners in Singapore won’t wait forever."

Max didn’t flinch. "I agree, sir. The delay was due to the port backlog—an external factor we’ve been monitoring since last quarter. I’ve already spoken with the freight agent. We’re rerouting through Port Klang for the next shipment."

Mr. Jeff—sharp suit, sharper tone—interjected. "That still doesn’t solve the current delay. Clients don’t care about logistics. They care about delivery."

"I understand," Max said evenly. "That’s why I’ve arranged for compensation on handling fees and a revised delivery schedule. Our Singapore partners were informed yesterday—they’ve acknowledged receipt."

There was a pause. The kind of silence that tested confidence.

Mr. Tan leaned back slightly, studying him. "So you’re saying it’s contained?"

"Yes, sir," Max replied. "The issue won’t affect the next cycle. We’ve strengthened our tracking system—every export item now goes through dual verification before customs declaration."

Mr. Jeff arched a brow. "And who’s handling that?"

Max gestured lightly toward Noel. "My intern’s helping with the verification reports. He’s been monitoring the data logs for inconsistencies."

Every head turned briefly toward Noel.

He blinked, spine straightening. "Yes, sir," he said, keeping his tone calm despite the quickened pulse in his throat. "We noticed that most errors came from manual entries during declaration. We’re working on a cross-check template to minimize human input for the next batch."

There was a quiet murmur at the far end of the table.

Mr. Tan exchanged a look with Mr. Jeff, something almost approving flickering between them.

Max leaned back, allowing the pause to settle before adding, "He caught the pattern before it affected the previous shipment. Saved us two days."

Mr. Jeff nodded slowly. "Efficient. That’s good work."

Noel managed a polite smile, his hand tightening just slightly around his pen.

"Seems your intern’s learning fast," Mr. Tan remarked, his tone less sharp now.

"I’d say he’s a natural," Max said with a faint grin.

That earned a small ripple of polite laughter, the tension in the room easing.

Mr. Jeff stood, gathering his folder. "Alright, then. Let’s keep it that way. The board doesn’t want another delay notice on their desk."

"Yes, sir," Max replied.

As the chairs scraped softly and the room began to empty, Noel exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

The conversation had flowed around him like a current, but that one small moment—the acknowledgment—stayed warm in his chest.

Max gathered his papers, glancing sideways with a knowing smile. "You handled that well."

"I just said what I noticed," Noel murmured.

"That’s the point," Max replied. "Observation’s half the job. The other half is timing. You spoke when it mattered."

Noel looked down at his notes, trying—and failing—to hide the quiet pride pulling at the corners of his lips.

Max slid his files into his folder and stood. "Come on. Let’s grab a coffee before the next round of fires."

Noel followed, his notebook in hand, and as the conference room door closed behind them, he felt something small but certain settle inside him—like maybe, just maybe, he was beginning to belong.