The Space Between
2725 Words
By the middle of October, Blackridge had settled into its favourite season.
The ivy climbing the old stone walls had turned deep crimson, the chestnut trees bordering the western courtyard scattered bronze leaves across the pathways, and every morning began beneath a pale sky that promised rain even when none arrived. The air carried the sharp scent of damp earth and fireplaces, and students instinctively walked faster between lectures, collars raised against the growing cold.
The library had become part of Evelyn’s routine.
Not because she enjoyed sharing the same table with Cassien Ashcombe.
She still wasn’t convinced she did.
But Professor Langley had made it painfully clear that the negotiation project would account for nearly a third of their final mark, and neither of them tolerated mediocrity. If working together was the price of producing exceptional work, then both of them were willing to pay it.
They had developed a rhythm without ever discussing it.
Cassien always arrived first.
She had stopped trying to come later.
The first time she had deliberately kept him waiting, it had felt like a small victory. The third time she discovered he had already outlined another section of the project before she arrived, she realised the only person losing anything was herself.
Since then, she had begun showing up on time. Neither of them acknowledged the change. It simply became another unspoken rule.
On Thursday afternoon, she entered the reading room to find him standing on a ladder near one of the upper shelves.
For the first time since they had started working together, he looked.. almost ordinary.
His blazer had been folded neatly over the back of a chair, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled just below his elbows, and a slim leather notebook was tucked beneath one arm while he searched the shelves with surprising patience.
He hadn’t noticed her yet.
That alone felt unusual.
Most of the time he seemed aware of everything happening around him.
She watched as he slid one book free, frowned, read the title, and placed it back before reaching for another.
“You know,” Evelyn said as she approached, “most people ask the librarian for help.”
Without looking down, he answered, “Most people don’t trust themselves to find the better edition.”
She folded her arms.
“And do you?”
“I trust cataloguing systems.”
Only then did he glance down at her.
“Good afternoon.”
It was such a normal greeting that it caught her completely off guard.
“..Good afternoon.”
He climbed down from the ladder, placing two heavy volumes on the table between them.
“I found the original case studies Professor Langley referenced.”
She looked at the publication dates.
One had been printed almost thirty years earlier.
“You’ve been here long enough to search the archives?”
“I’ve been here since the previous lecture ended.”
She blinked.
“That was over an hour ago.”
“I know.”
He said it as though arriving an hour early to read legal journals required no explanation whatsoever.
Evelyn shook her head, hanging her coat over the chair.
“I genuinely don’t know whether you’re disciplined or completely insane.”
“I’ve been called both.”
“I can believe that.”
A faint flicker crossed his expression.
Not quite a smile.
Close enough.
…
Working with Cassien was beginning to feel strangely predictable.
Not easy.
Never easy.
Every discussion became a debate before it became a conclusion.
Every paragraph they wrote was revised at least three times.
Every source was questioned, compared and, more often than not, replaced by a better one.
He challenged everything.
Not because he enjoyed disagreeing.
Because he refused to settle for an argument that wasn’t the strongest available.
It was infuriating.
It was also the reason their project was becoming better with every meeting.
Late into the afternoon, Evelyn drew a firm line beneath one paragraph before pushing the draft across the table.
“No.”
Cassien looked up.
“No?”
“The opening statement.”
He read the first few sentences again.
“I don’t see the problem.”
“That’s exactly the problem.”
She leaned forward, resting both forearms on the table.
“It sounds impressive.”
“It is.”
“It sounds like someone trying to impress a boardroom.”
“That is the audience.”
“No.”
She tapped the page with the end of her pencil.
“The audience is Professor Langley.”
“He used to negotiate for multinational firms.”
“He’s also the person who keeps reminding us that negotiations begin with people, not companies.”
Cassien remained silent for several seconds.
Then he picked up his pen.
“What would you change?”
The question surprised her enough that she forgot to answer immediately.
“You.. want my opinion?”
“I asked for it.”
“I noticed.”
He waited.
No impatience.
No sarcasm.
Simply waiting.
Evelyn pulled the paper back toward herself and crossed out the opening paragraph.
“You start here.”
She wrote two new sentences.
Shorter.
Cleaner.
Less polished.
When she slid the page back across the table, Cassien read them twice.
Then, without a word, he crossed out his own version completely.
“You were right.”
She stared.
“..That’s it?”
He looked up.
“What were you expecting?”
“A ten-minute argument.”
“I only argue when I think I’m correct.”
“And now?”
“Now I think you are.”
She wasn’t sure which response unsettled her more.
…
By six o’clock, the reading room had emptied almost completely.
Only the distant rustle of pages and the occasional footsteps of the librarians disturbed the quiet.
Evelyn stretched her shoulders, closing one of the heavier books with a sigh.
“I think my brain has stopped functioning.”
“It lasted longer than Benjamin’s usually does.”
She looked at him over the top of the book.
“Was that..”
“A joke?”
“I wasn’t going to say it.”
“But you were thinking it.”
She couldn’t help smiling.
“I might have been.”
Cassien returned his attention to the notes in front of him.
“I’ve met Benjamin often enough.”
“He’ll be devastated to learn you’ve formed an opinion.”
“I imagine he’ll survive.”
“Oh, undoubtedly.”
For a few moments, they worked in companionable silence.
It wasn’t awkward anymore.
Merely quiet.
The kind of quiet that belonged in libraries.
Evelyn noticed something then.
Cassien never fidgeted.
He didn’t drum his fingers against the table.
He didn’t spin his pen.
He didn’t glance around the room whenever someone walked past.
When he concentrated, the rest of the world simply.. disappeared.
She wondered what that felt like.
“You’ve been staring at the same sentence for nearly a minute.”
His voice interrupted her thoughts.
She blinked.
“I wasn’t.”
“You were.”
“I was thinking.”
“About the project?”
“..Not exactly.”
He closed the notebook in front of him.
“That explains it.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“What does that mean?”
“You only frown like that when you’re analysing people.”
For a moment, she forgot how to speak.
Then she recovered quickly enough to lift her chin.
“And what makes you think I was analysing you?”
Cassien gathered the loose papers into one neat stack before answering.
“Because everyone else in this room left twenty minutes ago.”
He wasn’t teasing her.
He simply stated the fact.
Evelyn looked around.
The reading room was empty.
She hadn’t even noticed.
Outside, the stained-glass windows had darkened completely, reflecting only the warm glow of the lamps inside.
Somewhere in the distance, the old clock tower began to strike seven.
Neither of them moved.
Neither seemed particularly eager to be the first to leave.
For reasons Evelyn couldn’t quite explain, the silence between them no longer felt like a battlefield.
It felt.. unfinished.
And for the first time since Professor Langley had paired them together, she found herself wondering not how quickly this project would end —
— but what working with Cassien Ashcombe would feel like once it did.
The library closed at half past seven.
It wasn’t an announcement so much as a ritual.
The lamps along the upper gallery dimmed one by one, chairs were pushed neatly beneath heavy oak tables, and the librarians wandered quietly between the shelves, collecting forgotten books with the patience of people who had repeated the same routine for decades.
Mrs Ellis appeared beside their table carrying a small stack of returned volumes.
“I’m afraid that’s all for tonight.”
Evelyn glanced at the clock above the fireplace and let out a quiet sigh.
“I didn’t even realise how late it was.”
Mrs Ellis smiled knowingly.
“The best evenings in a library usually pass unnoticed.”
Cassien had already gathered their papers into two perfectly ordered piles.
“We’ll continue tomorrow.”
Evelyn nodded.
“Same time?”
He looked up.
“If that suits you.”
“It does.”
Neither of them commented on how naturally the arrangement had become.
…
The corridor outside the library was noticeably colder than the reading room.
Old stone held onto autumn dampness long after sunset, and a sharp breeze drifted through the cloisters, carrying with it the scent of rain.
Evelyn had barely buttoned her coat when the first heavy drops struck the flagstones.
She looked toward the courtyard.
“Oh, no..”
Within seconds, the drizzle became a downpour.
Sheets of rain blurred the far side of the quadrangle until the opposite buildings disappeared behind a curtain of silver.
“So much for walking back to West House,” she murmured.
Cassien followed her gaze.
“It’ll pass.”
“You sound remarkably confident.”
“It usually does.”
She folded her arms against the cold.
“And if it doesn’t?”
“We wait.”
“As simple as that?”
He looked at her as though he genuinely couldn’t imagine another solution.
“Running would only leave us soaked.”
She couldn’t argue with that.
Instead, they stepped beneath the broad stone arch outside the library entrance, where generations of students had evidently taken shelter before them. Rain hammered against the courtyard with such force that conversation almost disappeared beneath its rhythm.
For several minutes, neither of them spoke.
The silence wasn’t awkward.
It was simply filled by the weather.
Somewhere across the grounds, thunder rolled softly over the hills.
Evelyn watched water gather along the edges of the stone paths before finally breaking the quiet.
“You always use a fountain pen.”
Cassien glanced at the pen clipped inside his blazer pocket.
“I do.”
“I’ve never seen you write with anything else.”
“It forces me to slow down.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“You? Slow down?”
“When your handwriting disappears beneath crossed-out mistakes, people stop taking your arguments seriously.”
She laughed quietly.
“I don’t think anyone has ever stopped taking your arguments seriously.”
“You’d be surprised.”
She looked at him with open scepticism.
“I would.”
A faint smile threatened the corner of his mouth.
Only for a second.
“You annotate every book you read.”
It took Evelyn a moment to realise he had changed the subject.
“I beg your pardon?”
“The pencil.”
He gestured toward the notebook tucked beneath her arm.
“You underline passages.”
“So?”
“You also write in the margins.”
She blinked.
“You noticed that?”
“You’ve done it every evening this week.”
“I didn’t think anyone paid attention.”
“I do.”
The answer came so naturally that neither of them seemed to realise what had been said until a brief silence followed.
Evelyn looked away first.
“I like remembering what I was thinking.”
“When?”
“The first time I read something.”
She ran her thumb absent-mindedly along the worn edge of the notebook.
“If I come back months later, I can see whether I’ve changed my mind.”
Cassien considered that.
“..Interesting.”
She smiled.
“That’s not the response I expected.”
“What were you expecting?”
“You usually tell me why I’m wrong.”
“I only do that when I think you are.”
“There it is.”
“There what is?”
“The Ashcombe I recognise.”
To her surprise, he gave a quiet, almost amused exhale.
“I was beginning to think you’d misplaced him.”
Rain continued to fall between them and the courtyard, softening the edges of the world beyond the archway.
Students occasionally sprinted across the quadrangle, coats thrown over their heads in a hopeless attempt to stay dry.
Neither Evelyn nor Cassien made any effort to join them.
“You know,” she said after another pause, “I genuinely thought you’d hate this assignment.”
“I did.”
She turned towards him.
“You did?”
“The first day.”
“And now?”
He looked across the rain-dark gardens before answering.
“I dislike inefficient partnerships.”
She waited.
“When people refuse to listen simply because they want to win.”
She nodded slowly.
“And us?”
“We argue.”
“Constantly.”
“Yes.”
“But..”
He paused briefly, choosing his words with unusual care.
“..you listen.”
The simplicity of the observation caught her off guard.
“So do you.”
“I know.”
She couldn’t help smiling.
“That sounded incredibly arrogant.”
“It was.”
“I appreciate the honesty.”
“It saves time.”
She laughed again.
A little more freely this time.
The rain began to ease.
Not enough to stop.
Enough for the steady roar to soften into a quieter rhythm.
Students slowly reappeared in the courtyards, judging whether it was finally worth leaving the shelter of the buildings.
Cassien glanced upward.
“It should be manageable now.”
Evelyn looked at the sky.
“I suppose.”
Neither of them moved immediately.
It was odd.
For nearly two hours they had sat opposite one another discussing legal theory without a hint of discomfort.
Now, faced with nothing more complicated than saying goodbye, both seemed unexpectedly reluctant to end the evening.
Finally, Evelyn adjusted the strap of her satchel.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“You will.”
She took several steps into the courtyard before stopping.
“Cassien?”
He looked back.
She hesitated.
“I never thanked you.”
“For what?”
“The other day.”
He frowned slightly.
“When Oliver tried to start something at lunch.”
His expression didn’t change.
“I wasn’t helping you.”
“No?”
“I was correcting him.”
She studied him for a second before nodding.
“There’s a difference.”
“There is.”
A faint breeze carried the last droplets from the stone roof above them.
Evelyn smiled to herself.
“Goodnight, Ashcombe.”
“Goodnight, Miss Carter.”
She turned and walked across the courtyard, her footsteps echoing softly against the rain-soaked stone.
Cassien remained beneath the arch until she disappeared around the corner of West House.
Only then did he begin walking in the opposite direction.
Neither of them noticed Benjamin watching from the second-floor corridor.
He had arrived at the library nearly ten minutes earlier, intending to drag Evelyn back to the dormitory before curfew.
Instead, he had found himself standing unnoticed behind one of the tall windows overlooking the courtyard.
He hadn’t heard every word.
He hadn’t needed to.
He had never seen Evelyn smile like that while talking to Cassien Ashcombe.
Benjamin frowned.
“..That’s odd.”
With one last glance toward the empty courtyard, he turned on his heel and headed back inside.
He wasn’t sure what he’d just witnessed.
But he had the uncomfortable feeling it might matter sooner than anyone realised.
- Writer
