Rina wasn't subtle.
Subtlety was for people who cared about things like tact, social consequences, or gently folding their laundry. Rina folded nothing, emotionally or otherwise.
So when she found out that Zoe had confessed and Dahlia had dropped off some kind of literal manuscript of love letters at Eliot's door, she reacted exactly how anyone who knew her would expect:
She stormed into his apartment like a one-woman SWAT team.
"WE NEED TO TALK."
Eliot, poor soul, had just managed to put on a semi-clean T-shirt, the folder from Dahlia still sitting on his coffee table like an emotional bomb no one wanted to defuse.
"Rina—"
"Nope. No words yet." She kicked the door closed with her boot and stood there, hands on her hips, hair in complete disarray, eyes blazing with 'I'm about to emotionally suplex you through your own bookshelf' energy.
"I'm not gonna play the mysterious quiet girl card," she continued, pacing like a caged tiger. "And I'm definitely not gonna sit around writing sad poetry or love novels or—whatever the hell is going on here."
Eliot blinked. "They weren't—"
"Shh. No. I'm talking now." She pointed a finger at him like he was a poorly behaved cat.
"This isn't a game to me. It's not a competition. It's not 'may the best girl win.' It's you and me. And I'm standing here because I choose you. Not because it's cute. Not because I'm bored. Because every time you laugh at one of my awful jokes, or you remember my favorite flavor of gum without asking, or you tell me I'm being too hard on myself—it's you."
Her voice cracked slightly, the fury giving way to something sharper. Realer.
"I'm not scared of Zoe. I'm not scared of Scarlett. I'm not scared of anyone in this equation but you—because I don't know if you'll actually let someone love you."
Silence.
Not awkward silence.
Electric silence.
Eliot stood there, like someone who just got hit by a confession truck doing 80 mph with no brakes.
And then, in true Rina fashion, she didn't wait for a response.
She walked up to him, grabbed his shirt, yanked him down to her height, and kissed him.
No hesitation. No buildup. Just full chaotic 'I mean business' kissing like she was daring the universe to stop her.
When she pulled away, she didn't give him time to breathe.
"Figure out what you want," she whispered. "But don't you dare act like nobody wants you."
And just like that, she walked out, leaving behind the distinct emotional smell of gasoline and lit matches.
Eliot stood alone, surrounded by confessions, manuscripts, burnt cookies, viral internet drama, and now… the undeniable imprint of Rina's lip gloss on his soul.
He sat down, stared at the folder, stared at the door, stared at his hands.
For the first time in his life, Eliot realized:
This wasn't a love triangle.
It was a love demolition derby.
And he was the one in the driver's seat.