Art of Misalignment

Chapter 19 Absent Solace

Maya hauled the heavy cello case up the stairs to her apartment. The foyer light was out—she fumbled in the dark for her shoes, and the second the door clicked shut behind her, the tears came hard and fast.

Doris had sent her packing from the camp. The audition, the whole dream—it was gone. And Dylan’s 200,000 debt was still there, crushing her. Alone in the dark apartment, terrified and empty, the only person she could think of was Liam.

She dropped onto the sofa, legs shaking. The only light was the blue glow from her phone. She dialed his number.

Ring… ring… ring…

Nothing. It went to voicemail. Sobbing quietly, she started typing, thumbs slipping on the screen:

“Liam, I’m back early. They kicked me out of the audition… I’m really scared.”

“Dylan’s in deep s**t again. Josh is after us. Please reply.”

“Where are you? Just pick up…”

She curled tighter into the corner of the sofa, eyes glued to the chat. No dots, no read receipt. She figured he was locked in his studio, painting like always. She had no clue where he really was.

Across town, at The Blue Note.

In the back breakroom, the lights were off except for a thin strip of yellow leaking in from the hallway. Lina’s waitress apron lay crumpled on the floor.

Liam’s clean white shirt hung open, sleeves pushed up, fabric bunched around his elbows. His pants were kicked off to the side, phone buried deep in the pocket on silent.

Buzz—buzz—buzz—

The vibration was lost under the sound of heavy breathing and skin against skin.

Lina straddled his lap, hair messy, fingers digging into his shoulders.

Liam’s hands gripped her waist hard, pulling her down with rough, urgent force.

The phone screen lit up again—Maya’s messages flashing for a second before going dark.

Liam gave a few last hard thrusts, then let out a low groan as he came inside Lina. She gasped, clutching at him. For a second afterward, everything felt lighter—like some of the weight he’d been carrying had finally lifted.

They stayed still for a minute, just breathing hard in the dark. Lina fumbled around for her apron and clothes, pulling them on without saying anything. She glanced back at him through the thin line of light from the hallway, eyes still glassy from the drinks. Then she smoothed her hair, pushed the door open, and slipped out.

Liam sat on the edge of the sofa, body still buzzing. He reached down, grabbed his pants off the floor, and pulled his phone out of the pocket. It was warm from all the vibrations. The screen lit up—Maya’s name everywhere. Missed calls, texts piling up.

“Liam, I’m so scared.” “Dylan’s in huge trouble, save us…”

The words hit him square in the chest. Guilt slammed in fast. All he could think was get to Maya—now.

But as he pushed the door open, Nancy was right there, leaning against the frame. She had a cigarette between her fingers, smoke drifting up. She looked him over—shirt half-buttoned, hair messed up—and gave a slow smile.

“Leaving so soon, Liam?” Her voice was low, rough from the night. She reached out, red nails brushing his open collar. “Lina might be done, but I’m not.”

Before he could answer, she looped her arms around his neck and kissed him hard. The taste of tobacco and whiskey hit him.

His brain shorted out. Maya’s texts, Dylan’s mess, Chloe’s distance—it all blurred. One thought cut through: Maya… tomorrow. I’ll go first thing in the morning.

That was enough. The last bit of resistance broke. He kicked the door shut, pushed her back against it, and kissed her back harder.

Clothes came off again fast. Nancy yanked at the buttons he’d just done up. His hands moved over her, urgent. Soon they were back on the sofa, skin against skin, the room filling with the same heavy sounds.

“I’m done, Nancy,” he said, voice rough. “You two have wiped me out these past few days. I just finished with Lina. There’s nothing left in me.”

Nancy gave a low, easy laugh. She reached out, red nails catching the dim light, and tilted his chin up with two fingers.

“No man gets to tell me he’s done,” she said, voice low and sure.

Before he could push back, she dropped to her knees on the carpet. Her hair fell forward, brushing his thighs. She tugged his pants down again, took him in hand—still soft—and leaned in, closing her mouth around him.

The wet heat hit him fast. Liam sucked in air through his teeth. His head dropped back against the sofa. Nancy’s tongue moved steady, skilled. In seconds he was hard again, straining.

She pulled off just enough to look up at him, lips curved. “See? Still works.”

Liam opened his mouth to say something—anything—but she was already climbing on. She straddled him, guided him in, and sank down slow at first, then all the way.

He groaned low, hands coming up to grip her hips. She braced on his shoulders and started moving—up, down, faster. Her body slapped against his.

His hands slid up, grabbed her chest—rough, squeezing hard. She arched into it, breath hitching.

Nancy was on top, moving hard, face flushed and focused.

“Liam… faster…” Her voice came out rough, almost breaking.

He didn’t rush to answer. Instead, he reached up, hands still rough from paint and sweat, and gently took her wrists. He guided her arms up and around his neck so she held on tight. Nancy let him, pressing closer, chest against his.

Then his hands slid down. He hooked under her knees, lifted her legs, and pushed up from the sofa—standing straight, holding her completely off the ground.

Nancy sucked in a sharp breath. Her legs locked around his waist to stay balanced. Her full weight settled on him. His knees shook a little—the last few days had already pushed him way past empty—but he kept going. He thrust up into her, hard and steady, each push deep.

“Liam… I can’t…” Nancy’s head tipped back, nails pressing into his shoulders. She trembled against him.

Liam kept the rhythm, sweat dripping from his face onto her skin. The position was killing his legs, his mind starting to fog.

Breathing hard, he lowered her back onto the sofa. Before she could steady herself, he grabbed her ankles again, lifted her legs high, and hooked them over his shoulders.

The angle folded her tight. She looked smaller under him, open. Liam leaned in, using his weight to drive deeper, faster.

Nancy couldn’t talk anymore. She just gasped and shook with him, hands clutching whatever she could reach.

When it hit the edge, Liam made a rough sound—half groan, half shout. He thrust once more, hard, and came inside her, letting everything go in one long release.