The lines between us

Chapter 5

It started with a text.

Ivy stared at her phone in the library, blinking at the screen:

Hey, Ivy. Want to grab a coffee later? —Tyler

Her stomach twisted. Tyler, one of the popular juniors, had been charmingly persistent, but she had never really considered him beyond friendly campus banter. Until now.

Because as she read the message, she realized she was… annoyed.

She slammed the phone shut just as Asher appeared, earbuds in, strumming his guitar softly.

“You look… tense,” he observed, tilting his head.

“Nothing,” she said quickly, stuffing her laptop into her bag.

“Uh-huh,” he murmured, raising an eyebrow. “You always say that.”

Ivy groaned. “I am fine. Really.”

He smirked. “Right. Fine. But I’ll still walk you to class. Can’t have you fainting from stress.”

She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help smiling as they walked across the campus quad. The autumn sun painted golden streaks on the buildings, students laughing and tossing frisbees. And yet, all Ivy could think about was that stupid text—and why it made her stomach twist.

⸻

Later, during their project meeting, Asher noticed Ivy’s distraction.

“You okay?” he asked, leaning against the table.

“I said I’m fine,” she replied, flipping through her notes.

He didn’t push, but his eyes lingered on her in a way that made her shift nervously. It was subtle, but he was watching her like she mattered more than the entire library.

Then Tyler appeared—grinning like he owned the room.

“Hey, Ivy! You free for coffee later?”

Ivy’s jaw tightened. “I—uh, maybe…”

Asher’s jaw stiffened, just slightly, but enough for her to notice. The corner of his mouth tilted in that infuriating way that made her heart do something ridiculous.

“Tyler’s busy,” Asher said casually, his voice calm but edged with something—something she hadn’t heard before.

“Oh, okay,” Tyler said, sensing the tension, and moved off to meet a friend.

Ivy felt her cheeks warm. She’d never seen that side of Asher before—the protective, quietly possessive side. And for some reason, it thrilled her more than she wanted to admit.

⸻

That evening, Ivy and Asher met at their apartment to work on the presentation slides.

She was fidgeting with the markers while he adjusted graphs on his laptop. The room was quiet, save for the hum of the desk lamp and the faint strum of his guitar from the night before.

“I didn’t know you cared who asks you out,” she teased lightly.

“I don’t,” he said, keeping his eyes on the screen. “Just… don’t like seeing you distracted.”

“Distracted by what?” she asked, finally daring to look at him.

He met her gaze, and Ivy felt that flutter again. “You,” he admitted, softer than she expected.

“I—I’m busy,” she stammered, feeling heat rise in her chest. “We have a project. Focus.”

“Yeah,” he said, leaning back slightly, but his eyes didn’t leave hers. “Project. That’s why we’re partners.”

Her hands shook slightly as she turned to her notes. Focus, McCall. Focus. But she couldn’t ignore the way her chest felt lighter—and heavier—all at once.

⸻

The next day, they went to the campus café to finalize slides. Ivy arrived first, securing a corner table. Asher sauntered in a few minutes later, balancing his guitar case and coffee.

“Saved you a seat,” he said with that grin she loved and hated in equal measure.

“You should save that energy for the project,” she muttered, rolling her eyes.

“Or for you,” he said softly, shrugging.

Her heart did something she wasn’t expecting. She looked down, forcing herself to focus on the laptop.

Hours passed as they edited slides, debated fonts, and argued over bullet points. But between the discussion and quiet moments, something shifted. Their hands brushed over the laptop keyboard more than once. A shared laugh over a typo lingered a little longer than normal. Glances that would have been fleeting before now felt loaded with unspoken meaning.

By the time they packed up to leave, Ivy realized she didn’t want to stop talking to him. Or being near him.

⸻

That night, Ivy lay in bed staring at the ceiling.

He’s my stepbrother, she reminded herself. He’s not… anything else.

And yet, her phone buzzed with a new text:

Good night, partner. Don’t stay up too late. —A

She couldn’t stop herself from smiling.