Art of Misalignment

Chapter 7 Avoidance

Liam sat on the floor surrounded by his prints, the "Echoes of the Unseen" series staring back at him like a stack of bad excuses. His phone buzzed on the table, lighting up the dim room. Message from Maya.

Maya: "Liam, are we still on for tonight? I really need to talk to you. Please."

He stared at the words, thumb frozen over the screen. A few days ago Maya had felt like the clean slate he needed—someone who didn’t know every ugly corner of his past. Now just thinking about her made him feel Chloe’s nails digging into his back again, and the full weight of ten years of lies pressing down on his chest. He wasn’t ready to sit across from Maya and pretend he was okay. Not when he still hadn’t faced Chloe, hadn’t even tried to say sorry.

Liam: "Hey, I’m really sorry, Maya. Gallery emergency—one of the collectors wants a private look at the 'Glow' series. Gonna be stuck here all night. Can we rain check?"

He sent it and immediately tasted something sour in the back of his throat. There was no collector. No emergency. He was just sitting here in the dark, hiding from the girl who believed in him because he couldn’t stop replaying the girl he’d hurt. He hadn’t fixed anything with Chloe—he hadn’t even found the guts to look her in the face—and until he did, being with Maya felt like lying to both of them.

Liam stood in the middle of his studio, prints and negatives scattered around his feet like pieces of a life he couldn’t put back together.

“I can’t keep doing this,” he said out loud, the words dropping into the quiet like stones.

He didn’t want the weight of ten years of almost-something with Chloe anymore. He couldn’t face the way Maya looked at him like he was still worth saving. Every time he thought about either of them, the guilt twisted tighter. He just wanted to stop feeling it all.

He grabbed his phone, thumb scrolling fast, almost angry. He skipped past the unread texts from his dad, Arvin—more career lectures, more expectations he wasn’t meeting. His finger landed on Nancy’s name. They’d swapped numbers after that twenty minutes in the back room, no promises, no strings. He typed without thinking.

Liam: “You free tonight?”

The reply popped up almost right away.

Nancy: “Perfect. I’m off tonight. My place is empty. Address: XXXXXXXX”

Liam stared at the words. It wasn’t comfort he was chasing. It was numbness. He pocketed the phone, grabbed his jacket, and walked out into the dark. He wasn’t looking for a friend or a fresh start. He was choosing the easiest way to keep falling, figuring maybe if he sank deep enough the shame wouldn’t follow.

The apartment was pitch black, In the room she shared with her roommate and coworker Lina, the only sound was skin slapping skin, fast and desperate, every thrust mechanical, every breath ragged.

The key scraped in the lock. Liam froze for half a second, then yanked the duvet over himself so only Nancy’s head poked out.

“Lina? Thought you were staying out with that guy tonight,” Nancy called, voice shaky but faking sleepy.

“Don’t even start,” Lina muttered, tossing her little leather bag onto the chair. She didn’t flip on the overhead light—figured Nancy was asleep. “Guy was a total catfish. Twice the size from his pics, half the personality. I bailed before my drink was even half gone.”

She shrugged off her jacket as she talked. It slid down her arms, leaving her in a cropped tank and black lace underneath. From under the covers Liam watched the new body move in the dark. Something hot and reckless kicked in his gut. No guilt, just a hard pulse under the sheets. Nancy felt it too—her fingers tightened on the duvet, holding it in place.

“Lina, come here to the bed,” Nancy said, voice dropping low and thick. “Got something to show you.”

Lina stepped closer, reached over, and clicked on the small bedside lamp. Dim yellow light spilled across the covers, catching the weird lump under the blanket. She frowned, confused.

“What are you talking about?” she asked, hand hovering near the mattress edge.

Nancy grabbed Lina’s wrist and pulled her down. “Remember when you asked me to set you up with that hot photographer? Here he is.”

She ripped the duvet back. Liam’s face and bare shoulders came into view.

“Liam, this is Lina. Lina, Liam.”

Lina sucked in a breath, eyes going wide. She tried to yank her hand free and back toward the door. Nancy’s grip didn’t budge, locking her in place. Liam just stared up at both of them.

“Hey, Lina,” he said, steady even in the mess. “Nice to meet you. Weird timing, I know.”

Lina yanked harder, breath catching as she tried to twist her wrist free. Nancy’s fingers stayed locked tight. Under the covers Nancy started moving again—slow, deliberate rolls of her hips that made Liam’s body answer without thinking. The duvet shifted in heavy waves.

“I… I did say I wanted to meet him,” Lina stammered, voice thin and high. She jerked her face away, refusing to look straight at the bed, but her eyes kept sliding back to the slow rise and fall under the blanket. “But not… not like this. This is—”

“It’s okay, Lina,” Nancy murmured, voice low and smooth, pulling her closer. “This way we skip all the small talk. Cuts straight to it.”

She tugged Lina down onto the mattress. Lina sat hard on the edge, knees locked. Nancy took Lina’s hand and pressed it to the back of her own head, guiding her. Then she reached for Liam’s hand and placed it on Lina’s waist. Lina didn’t pull away this time. Liam felt the shift. He pushed the covers off, sat up, leaned into her space, and kissed her.

“No… I still can’t…” Lina whispered against his mouth, but her body stayed right there, leaning in.

Nancy slid her hands under Lina’s tank top, peeled it off over her head, then flicked the bra clasp open. She leaned down, mouth on Lina’s skin. Lina’s face burned red, breath coming fast. Whatever fight she had left dissolved in the heat and the quiet pounding of her own pulse.