Chapter 8: Shifting Lines
1181 Words
Aira couldn’t help but stare at the paper in front of her. Her fingers trembled ever so slightly as she flipped to the next page of their storyboard. She bit her lip, trying to keep herself composed.
“Too sharp,” she muttered, pointing at a section of Liam’s architectural sketch. “We need softer angles here. More—emotion.”
Liam was quiet beside her, his eyes fixed on the sketch. They were in their usual spot at the campus library, tucked away in a corner far from everyone else. It was the only place where they could work without distractions.
But even in the silence, something between them had changed.
He hadn’t said much since their rooftop conversation. And she hadn’t given him the chance to say more.
It was easier this way. Colder, but clearer. Their project still came together effortlessly, like they had found their rhythm again—but it didn’t feel the same. The warmth that used to surround them was gone. She didn’t let their shoulders brush anymore. She didn’t look up when he smiled.
“Hey,” Liam’s voice broke the silence, gentle but hesitant. “You haven’t touched your coffee.”
Aira glanced at the untouched cup beside her. “Didn’t ask for one.”
Liam’s brow furrowed slightly. “You never had to before.”
She didn’t reply, her attention fixed on the storyboard, as though the paper would offer her an answer.
He sighed and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Is this how it’s gonna be now?”
Aira didn’t look at him. “We said we’d focus on the project.”
“Yeah,” he muttered, his voice sounding strained. “Guess we are.”
The tension hung in the air, thick and suffocating. Before either of them could say anything more, a voice interrupted the silence.
“Liam?”
Both of them turned toward the entrance.
Celeste Alvarez stood there, looking every bit the picture of grace in her heels and designer trench coat. Her eyes scanned the library, finally landing on them. A sharp smile curved on her lips as she walked toward them.
“There you are,” she said, her voice smooth but with an edge. “I’ve been calling. Your phone’s off.”
Liam stood up immediately, his expression darkening. “Celeste, what are you doing here?”
“I came to surprise you,” she said with a little too much sweetness in her tone. “I figured we could have lunch before the board meeting. Didn’t realize you were… busy.”
Her gaze flicked to Aira, and for a split second, Aira saw a flash of something in Celeste’s eyes—something sharp behind that practiced smile.
“And this must be the… literature partner?” Celeste said, her tone almost too casual, as if it was just another passing curiosity.
Aira stood up, her back straight, a calmness in her voice as she spoke. “Aira Mendoza. And yes.”
Celeste’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, but she held her composure. “Of course. I’ve heard about you.”
Aira raised an eyebrow, a touch of challenge in her voice. “All good things, I hope?”
“Depends who’s telling the story,” Celeste replied smoothly, then turned her attention back to Liam. “So, this is where you spend all your time now?”
Liam’s voice dropped, low and firm. “Celeste,” he warned. “Not here.”
But Celeste wasn’t backing down. “Why not? I’m just curious. You’ve been ditching dinners, ignoring your father’s calls, and now I find you hiding out in the library with—”
“Don’t finish that sentence,” Liam snapped, his voice sharp, like a blade.
The air between them grew icy, and Aira couldn’t stand the suffocating tension. She glanced around the library. A few students were already looking at them, sensing the quiet storm brewing.
She grabbed her bag and stood up. “I should go.”
“You don’t have to,” Liam said quickly, his words almost pleading, but Aira was already shaking her head.
“Yes, I do,” she said firmly, her gaze locking with his. “This is your world, remember?”
Without another word, she turned and walked out of the library, the door clicking softly behind her as she left. Her heart was pounding, but she didn’t stop. The wind stung her cheeks as she stepped outside, her breath quickening.
---
Outside, Aira walked briskly, the cool wind trying to calm the heat rising inside her chest. She hadn’t expected to feel this way—hurt, humiliated, angry—but there it was, a storm in her chest that she couldn’t ignore.
She kept telling herself she was fine. That it didn’t matter. That it wasn’t personal.
But deep down, she knew it was.
Why else did it hurt so much? Why did it feel like she had just been told, clear as day, that she didn’t belong?
---
Inside the library, Liam turned to face Celeste, fury flashing in his eyes. “What the hell was that?”
Celeste simply crossed her arms and looked at him, cool and composed. “That was me reminding you who you are.”
“No,” Liam snapped, his voice low and dangerous. “That was you humiliating someone who didn’t deserve it.”
Celeste scoffed, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Seriously, Liam? You really think she fits into your world? Into anything your family is planning for you?”
“I don’t care,” Liam said, his voice steady, though his anger was palpable. “I’m not a pawn in anyone’s game anymore.”
Celeste’s gaze turned cold. “You will be if you don’t grow up and play the role you were born into.”
Liam shook his head, stepping back. “Then maybe I’m done playing.”
With that, he turned on his heel and walked out, his footsteps heavy and purposeful as he followed Aira.
---
Later that evening, Aira sat at her desk, her fingers hovering over the keyboard, but her mind was far from the project they had been working on. The words on the screen blurred together, and she couldn’t focus. Her phone lit up beside her, and she froze.
Liam: I’m sorry.
She didn’t reply.
Another message came through.
Liam: You didn’t deserve that. I didn’t mean for it to happen.
Aira stared at the screen, her thumb hovering over the reply button, but she still didn’t respond.
Another message popped up.
Liam: I’ll fix this. Just… please don’t shut me out.
Aira sighed and put the phone face down on the table, her heart pounding in her chest. She wanted to reply, to tell him everything, to let him know how she was feeling, but she couldn’t. She wasn’t sure what was worse—being pulled into his world, knowing full well that she didn’t belong, or realizing that it might be too late to walk away from it now.
- Writer
