𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦, elite

𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭. the locker room fiasco

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"What is Carla like?"

"She's my friend. So, naturally, I think she's nice," Emilia responded avoidingly.

"Does she get along with your boyfriend?"

What kind of question was that? "They're not friends, but they don't have a problem with each other."

"Does anybody else have a problem with Carla?"

Emilia almost asked why, but the strict gaze of her lawayer pinching into her back fortunately stopped her. "I don't know," she shook her head. 

"You're best friends and you don't know anything about her personal relationships?" the inspector asked incredulously, and Emilia knew that she wouldn't get away with not saying anything.

"Well, she broke up with her boyfriend, Polo. So, obviously, they're not on the best terms right now."

"Anyone else?"

Emilia hesitantly played with a button on her denim jacket. She didn't know what effect her words could have, and she didn't really want to find out, but with one look over her shoulder at her lawayer, whose gaze was firmly fixed on her and whose head nodded at her reassurringly, she decided to do it. "Maybe - Guzmán."

"How so?" the inspector asked, and Emilia felt guilty again. She was dragging down the brother of the dead girl.

"He's just protective of Polo," she sighed. "But I don't know what Carla has to do with anything-" She froze mid-sentence. The inspector's eyes were - lustful, even. Like she was following a trail. A promising one.

"What about you and Guzmán?"

No. "We were fine. I mean, with the whole thing with Carla and Polo, I was on her side, and he was on his,  so we could kind of clash, but nothing personal."

Emilia didn't even have to look at the inspector to know that her eyes had a satisfied glow. She had just caught the blonde in a lie. "Really, Emilia?"

"Well," Emilia started, but she couldn't finish. She dug her nails into her palm under the desk. "I mean-"

"We had some of your classmates tell us that you and Guzmán had quite a few personal issues."

Lucrecia should work in a tabloid, and not be a witness in a murder case. Emilia sighed, almost inaudibly. "Well, things were a bit awkward between us, but nothing serious, really."

"Awkward? How so?"

"Well," the blonde felt very uncomfortable, "I rejected him."

"Oh," now it was the inspector's turn to be surprised and drop eye contact. Emilia, on the other hand, felt her breath rising again. She meant the other thing. She knew.

This was not good. "I was talking about Guzmán having an issue with you because of Marina."

Emilia interlocked her fingers under the table and harshly pressed her palms towards each other. Shit. She bit her cheek to bring herself to reality, but it only made her mouth drier. Could she ask for a glass of water? No, that would give away that she's nervous. Emilia had to appear calm, calm, calm, even though everything was falling on her head.

"What issue do you have in mind?" she asked quietly.

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