A Different Kind of Kindness
1210 Words
Chapter 10: A Different Kind of Kindness
The air felt heavier around him.
Lily told herself she was only walking toward the library, just like any other day. Books in her arms. Head down. Purposeful.
But when she saw Blake sitting on the steps again—headphones in, legs stretched out, black hoodie pulled over his head like he was shielding himself from the world—her feet stopped moving.
She shouldn’t talk to him.
Not after everything. Not after last night’s message. Not with Nate texting her nonstop again, trying to be the perfect boyfriend like he hadn’t looked at her like she was a possession just days ago.
But Blake looked up—and it was over.
She was already falling again.
"Stalking me now?" he asked, one brow lifted.
Lily hugged her books tighter. “This is the library.”
“You never came this way before.”
“You wouldn’t know that.”
He smirked, closing the book in his lap. “Wouldn’t I?”
The way he looked at her—so calm, so steady—set her nerves on fire.
And yet… there was something different about him today. Something quieter. The edges of him still cut sharp, but they weren’t pointed at her.
“I didn’t mean to—” she started.
“Relax,” he said. “I don’t bite. Not unless you ask.”
Her breath hitched. “Could you stop doing that?”
“What?”
“Saying things that make me feel… things.”
He laughed under his breath, the sound low and genuine. “You make it too easy.”
Lily sat down on the step below him, needing the space—needing a second to breathe without the gravity of him pressing against her thoughts.
“You look tired,” Blake said after a pause.
“I haven’t been sleeping.”
“I figured.”
She glanced over her shoulder, meeting his eyes. “How?”
“You get quiet when your mind's loud.”
Lily swallowed hard. “You watch me a lot.”
“I notice you,” he corrected. “There's a difference.”
Her heart thudded painfully.
Most of her life, Lily had felt invisible. To her classmates. To her parents. Even with Nate, sometimes—especially with Nate—she felt like a reflection of what he wanted her to be. A sweet, easy, agreeable girl he could brag about.
But with Blake… he saw her shadows.
And he didn’t flinch.
“What are you reading?” she asked, needing to change the subject before she broke apart in public.
He held the book up so she could see: Crime and Punishment.
“Of course,” she muttered. “You would read Dostoevsky.”
Blake’s mouth curved. “Why? Too intense for a girl like you?”
“I never said that.”
“No,” he said, voice dropping. “But you like pretending you’re softer than you are.”
Lily turned to fully face him. “You think I’m pretending?”
“I think,” he said slowly, “you’re afraid of what you could be if you stopped hiding.”
Silence fell between them. But it wasn’t awkward. It was… electric.
Lily looked down at her lap. “You’re not what I expected.”
He leaned forward slightly, his voice lower, more intimate. “And what did you expect?”
“An asshole.”
He smirked. “I can be.”
“But you’re also…”
“Say it.”
She hesitated. Then whispered, “Kind.”
Something in his expression shifted—like the word scraped something raw inside him.
“I’m not kind,” he said.
“You are,” she insisted. “Just not in the way most people are. It’s like… your kindness is sharp. It cuts. But it’s still real.”
Blake was quiet for a long moment. Then, to her surprise, he said, “You ever think maybe I only show you that part because you can take it?”
Lily blinked. “What do you mean?”
He tilted his head, eyes unreadable. “I don’t like weak people. I don’t trust them. But you…”
“I’m not strong.”
“You’re still here,” he said simply. “That counts.”
Later that day, Lily walked into class and saw Nate waiting for her outside the lecture hall.
She almost turned around.
But he saw her too fast.
“Hey,” he said, stepping in her path.
“Hey.”
Nate looked… different. Or maybe she was different. His smile didn’t land right anymore. Too smooth. Too fake.
“I wanted to give you this,” he said, handing her a small box.
She opened it slowly. A silver bracelet. Simple. Pretty. Expensive.
“Nate…”
“Just something to remind you how much I care,” he said. “No pressure.”
But that was the problem—there was always pressure with him. Polite pressure. Smooth pressure. Like a vice lined in velvet.
She forced a smile. “Thank you.”
“I miss us, Lily. I know things have been off. But we can fix it. We always do.”
She nodded, but something in her chest twisted.
She wasn’t sure she wanted to fix it this time.
That evening, she found herself outside the campus café, looking through the windows—and froze.
Blake was sitting at a table inside, sipping coffee, flipping through a worn sketchbook.
Drawing.
She’d never seen that side of him.
It was simple, mundane, human. He looked peaceful. Not like the guy who haunted her dreams. Not the arrogant, cruel boy who’d once called her names and made her flinch.
She stepped inside, heart in her throat.
He looked up the second she entered.
Like he’d known she was coming.
“You stalking me now?” she asked, echoing his earlier words.
Blake smirked. “Took you long enough.”
Lily slid into the seat across from him.
He pushed the sketchbook toward her. “Here.”
She hesitated. Then opened it.
The breath left her body.
He’d drawn her.
Pages of her.
Reading. Looking away. Lost in thought. One sketch captured her mid-smile, head tilted, hair falling across her cheek.
“These are…” She looked up at him, throat tight. “You drew these?”
“Don’t act so surprised.”
“I’m not surprised you’re talented,” she said softly. “I’m surprised you see me like this.”
Blake shrugged. “You look better on paper.”
“That’s not true.”
He didn’t answer.
She reached across the table before she could think, fingers brushing his. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For not making me feel like I’m crazy.”
“You are crazy,” he said, voice husky. “Crazy for thinking you can kiss me, lie to your boyfriend, and walk around like nothing happened.”
Lily’s hand tensed in his.
He leaned forward. “You want this to go away, Lily? Say the word. I’ll stop.”
She didn’t say it.
Didn’t move.
And in the silence, Blake smiled—soft and dark.
“Didn’t think so.”
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