He Kissed Me Before Finals

CHAPTER TEN THE RUN

The first light hadn’t even touched the horizon when Liam’s voice cut through the dark.“Lucy—now. We have to go.”I didn’t ask why. The fear in his tone was enough. Within minutes, the motel room was chaos — half-zipped bags, tangled sheets, and the faint scent of rain leaking through the cracked window.Outside, the world was damp and half-asleep. The parking lot shimmered with puddles reflecting a bruised sky. I followed him to the car, my heart pounding in sync with the storm above us.We hit the road before dawn broke. Headlights carved narrow paths through the fog, and the city fell away behind us, swallowed by rain and distance.Liam’s hands were steady on the wheel, but his eyes never stopped scanning the mirrors. Every few seconds, his gaze flicked back — sharp, searching.I saw it when he did.A pair of headlights.Too close.Too constant.“Liam,” I whispered.“I see them.” His voice was low, clipped — a calm that only made the air tighter.He turned suddenly, tyres screeching against wet asphalt, the car sliding before catching grip. The other vehicle followed.My pulse went wild. “They found us again.”His jaw flexed. “Hold on.”He pressed harder on the gas. The road narrowed, swallowed by trees and rain. My body jerked with each swerve, but he didn’t falter — his focus was absolute.Branches whipped across the windscreen as we veered off onto a dirt path barely wide enough for a single car. Then, in one smooth motion, he killed the headlights.Darkness swallowed us whole.We rolled forward silently until the engine was barely whispering, then stopped completely.No sound.No movement.Just rain — a thousand tiny fingers tapping the roof, waiting.He turned off the ignition. The quiet roared.I didn’t breathe. Neither did he.We waited, listening for the sound of pursuit – an engine, footsteps, anything.Nothing.After what felt like forever, Liam finally exhaled. The tension snapped like a wire pulled too tight.“Are you okay?” His voice was softer now, rough at the edges.I nodded, though my heart was still galloping. “You?”He gave a faint smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Always.”But he wasn’t.His knuckles were raw, and a thin line of blood cut across his temple, glinting faintly in the low light. Before I could think twice, I reached for him.“Let me see.”“It’s nothing.”“Liam.”Just his name — enough to make him freeze.He watched me as I leaned in. My fingertips brushed his skin, gentle against the roughness of his jaw. His breath caught — barely, but I felt it. I wiped the blood away with the corner of my sleeve, then lingered for a heartbeat longer than I should have.“You shouldn’t have to keep saving me,” I whispered.He caught my wrist before I could pull back. His touch was firm but careful — as if he were holding something fragile.“That’s the one thing I’ll never regret,” he said quietly.His eyes were darker now, full of things he never said. For a moment, the air between us shifted — charged, fragile, dangerous.The rain slowed, or maybe time did. The world outside ceased to matter. There was only the sound of his breathing and the steady rhythm of my heart trying to catch up.Then he let go. “We need to keep moving.”⸻Hours later, the rain softened into mist. The sun broke through weakly, brushing the road with silver.We stopped at a quiet gas station tucked between pine trees. The air smelt of fuel and damp earth.Liam stepped out, moving with that same unshakeable calm, cleaning the windscreen with the back of his hand, and checking every corner like the world was still watching.I watched him — the steadiness, the exhaustion in his shoulders, the way control was the only armour he had left.When he got back in, I asked, “Who were they?”He hesitated before answering. “People who think I still belong to the world I left.”“And do you?”His eyes lifted to mine, and the silence that followed said more than any words.“Not anymore,” he murmured.The engine hummed to life. He reached across the console — not looking at me — and his fingers brushed mine. Just once. Barely there. But it was enough.Enough to steady my heart.Enough to tell me that we weren’t just running anymore.We were holding on.