freedom taste like you

Chapter 29

Timothy’s POV

The weekend went by faster than I thought it would.

One minute, I was at home eating with Mum and Amber, and having that ridiculous chat with Amber, that felt really uncomfortable, and the next, I was back on campus staring at the same gray-white buildings I’d been dying to escape three days earlier. Amber had left before I did, that was because I didn't feel like coming back yet.

The campus looked different though, quieter, somehow smaller. Maybe it was just me. Maybe everything felt smaller now because my head was too crowded.

I carried my small duffle bag up the stairs to my dorm room and unlocked the door. The familiar smell of cologne and old textbooks hit me instantly. My roommate wasn’t around, as usual, which honestly, was perfect. I needed peace.

I tossed my duffle bag on the bed and sat down, running a hand through my hair. I’d been thinking about Amber almost all the way back from home.

Her face when I told her about Lydia, the way she smiled and said “That’s good for you,” even though I could tell it wasn’t.

She’d tried to look fine, but I knew better. I’ve known her long enough now to recognize when she’s putting up a front.

And Lydia… I didn’t even know what to make of her anymore.

Part of me still cared about her. The other part, the louder one lately, just wanted peace.

I exhaled and pulled out my phone, scrolling aimlessly until I saw Lydia’s name at the top of my messages.

She texted last night.

Lydia: Can we talk when you get back?

I hadn’t replied.

Now, I typed:

Me: Yeah. I’m back. Are you free later?

She replied almost instantly.

Lydia: Come by my place. 7PM.

I checked the clock. 5:32PM. Enough time to think, or at least pretend I was thinking.

---

By the time I got to her dorm, the evening sky had turned a faint purple. Lydia’s building was buzzing with voices and music from the lower floors, but her hallway was quiet.

When she opened the door, she looked… perfect, of course. Lydia always did. Hair tied in a loose bun, oversized sweatshirt, that same subtle perfume she always wore, the one that used to drive me crazy. Her roommate wasn't in, so it was just us, great.

“Hey,” she greeted softly, stepping aside to let me in.

“Hey,” I echoed, brushing past her.

Her room was clean, neatly arranged, almost too neat, like she’d been waiting for me.

I sat on the edge of her bed, and she took the chair by her desk, crossing her legs.

“I’m glad you came,” she started, voice careful. “You’ve been kind of distant again.”

I laughed quietly, shaking my head. “You’re the one who requested space last week, remember?” I knew she probably didn't mean it, but still it was something she mentioned.

“I did,” she admitted. “But I didn’t mean it, literally.”

I rubbed my temples. “Lydia, what are we doing? Seriously.”

Her expression softened. “I thought we were… fixing things.”

“Are we?” I asked, meeting her eyes. “Because it doesn’t feel like it. It feels like we’re just… pretending we didn’t break up in the first place.”

That made her look down, fiddling with the hem of her sleeve.

“You’re still angry,” she whispered.

“I’m not angry,” I said quietly. “Just tired. Tired of the back-and-forth. Tired of not knowing where we stand.”

She looked up, eyes glassy. “You told me you missed us.”

“I do,” I admitted. “But I also miss who we were before everything got messy. Before all the fights, before the guilt. I miss… peace.”

She blinked slowly, processing that. “And you don’t have that with me?”

The silence that followed was loud enough to answer for me.

She sighed and leaned back, staring at the ceiling. “You’ve changed, Tim.”

“Maybe,” I said. “Maybe I just grew up a little.”

She looked at me again, something sharp flickering in her expression. “Or maybe someone helped you change.”

I frowned slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Amber,” she said simply. “You’ve been different ever since she showed up.”

I froze, trying to find the right words. “Amber has nothing to do with this.”

“Really?” Lydia raised an eyebrow. “Because I’ve seen how you look at her. And don’t even try to lie to me, Timothy. I notice things.”

“Lydia-”

“She’s sweet, quiet, perfect in that innocent- kind of way,” she said, her tone cutting. “I can see why you’d want to protect her.”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair again. “You’re reading too much into things. She’s just—”

“Just what?” Lydia pressed, standing now. “A friend? Or like you’ll say using it as an excuse, Family? You expect me to believe that?”

“She is a friend and also Family” I said firmly, standing too. “That’s all she’s ever been.”

Lydia crossed her arms, eyes narrowing. “So when you text her every night? When you ditched our plans to decide to just go home unexpectedly, which surprisingly was the same weekend Amber left. That was just friendship?”

Her voice was rising now, and I could feel the frustration building in my chest.

“Lydia, I’m not doing this again.”

“Doing what?” she demanded. “Admitting you like her?”

I stayed quiet, staring at the floor because for a second, I didn’t know if she was wrong.

She sighed, her anger softening slightly when I didn’t respond. “Tim, I’m not asking you to choose between us. I just… I don’t want to lose you again.”

Her voice cracked near the end, and before I could think, she was already stepping closer, her hand brushing against mine.

It was familiar, the warmth of her skin, the scent of her hair, but it just didn’t hit the same way anymore.

Still, I didn’t pull away.

“I was actually going to ask you something,” I said quietly, breaking the silence.

“What?” she asked.

“I was thinking maybe we could all hang out sometime. You, me, and Amber.”

Her entire face changed. “You’re joking.”

“No, I’m serious. I think it’ll make things less weird. You both have this… tension, and I hate it. I want things to be better between you two, if you give her a chance you might get to like her.”

She laughed, cold and disbelieving. “You really think I want to sit around pretending to be friends with her? Pretending to like her?”

“Lydia…”

“No, Tim,” she interrupted sharply. “She’s not the problem. You are. You keep trying to make me the villain every time I react like a normal girlfriend would. Well in this case Ex-girlfriend”

I winced internally at how she emphasized the word ex-girlfriend. “I never said you were the villain,” I said tiredly.

“Then stop acting like you’re some peacekeeper stuck between two people who hate each other,” she snapped.

“she doesn't hate you lydia”. I corrected her.

She ignored me and continued “You made the choice to be around her. You made the choice to bring her into your life, not me.”

I opened my mouth to argue but stopped. There wasn’t a point. She was right, I had brought Amber into my life, and I hadn’t exactly been able to let her go since.

Lydia saw the silence as guilt. “That’s what I thought,” she murmured bitterly.

I exhaled. “Look, I just want us to move past this. All of it. The jealousy, the assumptions.”

She crossed her arms, biting her lip in frustration. “And what if I can’t?”

I looked up at her, meeting her eyes. “Then maybe we shouldn’t be doing this.”

That shut her up.

For a long moment, we just stood there, her staring at me like she was trying to find the version of me she used to know, and me realizing that version didn’t exist anymore.

Finally, she looked away. “You can go, Timothy,” she said quietly.

I hesitated, then nodded. “Alright.”

I turned to leave, but her voice stopped me halfway to the door.

“Do you love her?”

I froze, my hand on the doorknob. “What?”

“Amber,” she said, her tone sharper now. “Do you love her?”

I didn’t answer, because I honestly didn’t know.

After a long silence, she gave a hollow laugh. “That’s all the answer I need.”

I left without saying another word.

---

The night air hit me hard as I stepped outside. It was cold, but not enough to shake the heaviness sitting on my chest.

I walked aimlessly around campus, the lights blurring slightly as I tried to clear my head.

I didn’t love Amber.

At least, I didn’t think I did.

But every time Lydia got angry, every time she called or texted, Amber’s face would appear in my mind, soft, calm, patient. She made everything quieter inside me.

And that scared me more than I wanted to admit.

When I got back to my dorm, I sat on my bed and stared at my phone again. No messages.

For some reason, I found myself opening our chat anyway. Amber’s last message was still there.

Amber: Sure.

I smiled faintly.

Then, without thinking, I typed:

Me: Hey, you good?

I didn’t expect a reply, not right away, but when my phone buzzed seconds later, my chest tightened.

Amber: Yeah. You? Back on campus?

Me: yeah. We should catch up soon.

There was a pause, then her reply came.

Amber: Sure. Coffee?

I stared at the screen for a long time, smiling despite myself.

Me: Yeah. Coffee sounds perfect.

I put the phone down, lying back on the bed. For the first time all day, my chest felt a little lighter.

Maybe it was the idea of seeing her again.

Or maybe, just maybe, I already knew the answer to Lydia’s question.