Sparks and Setbacks
917 Words
It had been a week since Liam walked Emilia halfway to her dorm, and she hadn’t stopped thinking about it since. Not just the words he said, but the way he said them. Calm. Sincere. Vulnerable. No crowd. No charm games. Just him—raw and real.
She didn’t know what to do with that.
Now, standing at the back of the campus bookstore, she was flipping through a worn copy of Wuthering Heights when a voice behind her made her jump.
“Still hiding in the classics?”
Emilia turned sharply—Liam. Of course. Wearing that gray hoodie he somehow made look like fashion, hair slightly messy, eyes locked on her like he saw no one else in the room.
“I wasn’t hiding,” she said, though her voice was smaller than she meant it to be.
He smiled faintly. “I was hoping you weren’t.”
She put the book back on the shelf. “What are you doing here?”
“Buying a notebook I don’t need, hoping I’d bump into you.”
Emilia raised a brow, lips tugging at the corner. “You really are persistent.”
“I like to think of it as... consistent.”
His charm wasn’t overwhelming today. It was gentle. Respectful. Careful not to crowd her.
She didn’t move away.
Liam tilted his head. “There’s a poetry night tomorrow. At the Student Commons. I heard you might be into that kind of thing.”
Emilia blinked. “Poetry?”
“Not my thing usually. But I thought... maybe you’d want to come with me. No pressure. Just sit and listen. You don’t even have to call it a date.”
Her instincts screamed to say no. To protect herself.
But her heart had other ideas.
“I’ll think about it.”
His face lit up like she’d just agreed to a marriage proposal. “Thinking is good. I’ll be there either way.”
Then he turned and walked out—without waiting for her to say anything more.
---
That night, Emilia stared at her mirror longer than usual. She noticed the new definition in her cheekbones, the way her eyes had more life in them now. She still saw the girl she used to be. But she was starting to see someone else too.
Someone worth showing up for.
She pulled out her phone and messaged Zoey.
> Should I go to poetry night with Liam?
The reply came back fast.
> Is he still showing up every time you blink?
Then yes. But don’t wear your walls. Wear something that makes YOU feel powerful.
Emilia didn’t reply, but her fingers lingered over her sketchpad. That night, she drew herself standing in a field of sparks—unafraid, untouchable.
---
The poetry night was already buzzing when Emilia walked in the next evening. She wore a soft burgundy dress, fitted at the waist, with her curls loosely falling around her shoulders. For once, she didn’t try to shrink. She didn’t hide in black. She stood tall.
Liam saw her the second she walked in. His jaw literally dropped.
“Wow,” he said when she reached him.
She gave him a small smile. “Don’t get used to it.”
“I’ll try not to faint.”
They took a seat in the back. The lights dimmed. The first performer read a poem about heartbreak, the second about rage. The third—a shy girl with a trembling voice—read one about learning to breathe again.
Emilia felt every word in her soul.
When the mic opened for audience volunteers, Liam leaned closer. “You ever written poetry?”
“I’ve written everything except poetry,” she whispered.
“Bet it’d be amazing if you did.”
She turned to him, surprised. “Why do you believe in me so much?”
Liam didn’t smile this time. He looked at her like she mattered. Like her breath had weight. Like he meant every word he was about to say.
“Because even when no one else saw you... I did. And I hate how long it took me to realize it wasn’t just guilt. It’s always been something more.”
Her breath caught. The air around them suddenly felt too heavy.
But before she could say anything, a shadow fell across them.
Chelsea.
In a perfect crop top and flawless makeup, she wore confidence like a weapon.
“Liam. Didn’t think you’d show your face in public with... her.”
Emilia’s spine stiffened.
Liam stood, his jaw clenched. “Back off, Chelsea.”
Chelsea smirked. “I’m just surprised. You’re making it so easy for everyone to laugh at you.”
Emilia stood too, eyes burning—not with tears this time, but with fire.
“You know what’s laughable?” she said clearly. “The fact that you think you can still intimidate me.”
Chelsea’s smile faltered.
“I’ve been through worse than your opinions,” Emilia said, voice steady. “You don’t scare me anymore.”
Around them, people were watching. But for once, Emilia didn’t care.
Chelsea scoffed, tossed her hair, and stormed away.
Liam looked at Emilia with something like awe. “That was... amazing.”
Emilia’s heart pounded, but her chin didn’t waver. “I’m tired of being quiet.”
He smiled. “I hope you never are again.”
As the next poem started, Liam reached for her hand. And this time, Emilia didn’t pull away.
- Writer
