Find Your Own North

Chapter 19: The Interrupted Lunch

By Wednesday, the school hallways were thick with the usual mid-week fatigue. I was sitting in my classroom during the lunch break, surrounded by a mountain of half-graded essays and a lukewarm sandwich. I had my headphones in, trying to drown out the world with a playlist of the music Julian had introduced me to on Monday.

I was so deep in thought—weighing the excitement of the rooftop against the quiet comfort of Liam’s text—that I didn't hear the door open.

"I thought I might find you hiding in here," a smooth voice vibrated through the room.

I looked up, startled, to see Julian standing there. He wasn't in his usual suit; he’d opted for a high-end cashmere sweater that made him look softer, yet somehow even more expensive. He was holding a sleek white bag that smelled of truffle oil and fresh herbs.

"Julian! What are you doing here? I thought you had a department meeting."

"I moved it," he said simply, walking toward my desk and clearing a space among the papers. "I couldn't have you eating a soggy sandwich when there’s a perfectly good Italian bistro three blocks away that delivers."

He started unpacking gourmet pasta and a sparkling mineral water. It was a classic Julian move—effortless, grand, and entirely focused on "upgrading" my experience.

"You didn't have to do this," I said, though I was already reaching for the fork.

"I wanted to," he said, leaning against the edge of my desk. "Date Number Two is still a few days away, but I didn't think I could wait that long to see you."

He was looking at me with that intense, predatory heat that usually made my breath hitch. He reached out, his hand hovering near my hair, and for a second, the classroom felt very small.

Just then, the door swung open again.

Liam walked in, mid-sentence. "Maya, I found that old copy of the—"

He stopped dead. He was holding a tattered, yellowed book—the one I’d been looking for to help a struggling student with their history project. He looked at the gourmet spread on my desk, then at Julian’s hand near my face, then at me.

"Oh," Liam said, his voice dropping an octave. "I didn't realize you were... busy."

"Liam, wait," I said, instinctively pushing back from the desk. "You found the book?"

"Yeah," Liam said, his expression unreadable. He walked over and placed the book on the corner of the desk, as far away from Julian’s lunch as possible. "It was in the back of my closet. Just thought you’d want it for your afternoon class."

Julian straightened up, his eyes narrowing slightly. He didn't move away from my desk; if anything, he claimed the space more firmly. "That’s very... thoughtful of you, Liam. Always the reliable assistant, aren't you?"

The insult was subtle, but it hung in the air like smoke. Liam’s jaw tightened. He looked at Julian, then back at me, his eyes searching mine for something—a sign, a protest, anything.

"I'm a friend, Julian," Liam said quietly. "There’s a difference."

"Is there?" Julian countered, a smug smile playing on his lips. "Because it seems to me that Maya is trying to move forward, while you’re quite content keeping her anchored in the past."

"That’s enough," I said, my voice sharper than I intended.

Liam looked at me, a flash of hurt crossing his face before he masked it with a blank stare. "I’ll leave you to your lunch, Maya. Enjoy the pasta."

He turned and walked out, his stride heavy and hurried. I looked down at the expensive food, the truffle oil suddenly smelling far too strong. The old, tattered book sat on the edge of the desk—a piece of history he’d spent his morning hunting down just because I’d mentioned it once.

"He really needs to learn some boundaries," Julian remarked, picking up his fork as if nothing had happened. "But anyway, about Friday..."

I took a bite of the pasta, but I couldn't taste a thing. For the first time, Julian’s "surprises" felt less like a gift and more like a wall he was building between me and the one person who truly knew my silence.