Empty Love

Chapter 4

The day dragged like honey dripping from a spoon. Even the wind moved with lethargic indifference, rustling the trees in slow motion as if the world itself was weighed down by invisible grief. The environment looked identical to the way she felt. Sabrina wondered if the campus always looked this desolate, or if it was just Fiona's absence that made everything seem duller.

Her roommate had refused to leave bed, groaning into her pillow about her skull threatening to split in two. Fiona never got drunk—that's what worried Sabrina most. Something must have shattered her usual ironclad self-control to make her drink like that. But years of friendship had taught Sabrina when to push and when to retreat. Fiona was a fortress when hurt, her walls rising faster than the tide.

We've been through this before. She'll open up when she's ready.

So lost in thought, Sabrina didn't notice the solid figure stepping into her path until she collided with a chest that smelled faintly of pine and motor oil.

"Hi, stranger."

Tilting her head upwards at the familiar voice, . Ethan stood there, his ever-present smirk in place as he tapped her forehead with one calloused finger.

"One of these days, you're going to walk straight into traffic with your head in the clouds like that."

"Yo, big guy." The tension in her shoulders eased slightly. "Where've you been? Two weeks without a word—should I be checking local arrest reports?"

Ethan bent to retrieve a fallen branch, snapping it between his hands with exaggerated thoughtfulness. "Woah now, detective. I promise I didn't kill anyone." A beat. Then, with that wicked grin she knew too well: "...Yet."

"Ugh, you're insufferable." But her lips curled despite herself, grateful for the momentary distraction he provided.

Ethan fell into step beside her, their shoulders brushing in the easy rhythm of childhood. They'd been an inseparable trio once—her, Fiona, and Ethan—ruling their suburban neighborhood with scraped knees and shared secrets whispered under porch lights. Now, his familiar presence was an anchor in the storm of college life, a tether to who she was before lecture halls and existential crises.

"You look like hell," he observed, his sharp eyes catching the shadows beneath hers. "Fiona too. That party really does a number on you two"

Sabrina stiffened, her fingers tightening around the strap of her backpack. "Just a rough night."

Ethan's playful expression darkened. He stopped walking, forcing her to face him. "That quarterback wasn't messing with you, was he? Liam Callahan?"

Her pulse stuttered traitorously. "You heard about that?"

"Whole campus is talking." He kicked at another branch, sending it skittering across the pavement. "Star quarterback leaves early with some mystery girl? Especially when he never leaves with a girl. That's gossip gold, Sab."

Some mystery girl.

The words lodged between her ribs like shrapnel. She hated how they made her stomach twist—half with irritation, half with something dangerously close to disappointment.

"Nothing happened," she said, too quickly. "And the party was two nights ago, numb skull." Ethan studied her face, his gaze uncharacteristically serious. The autumn light caught the silver ring in his eyebrow—the one he'd gotten on a dare sophomore year. "Just...be careful, yeah? That guy's got a reputation."

"For what?"

"For being an asshole." Another branch snapped under his boot with unnecessary force. "Among other things."

Before she could press him—before she could even process the protective edge in his voice—a new voice cut through the quad like a knife through canvas.

"Sabrina."

Liam stood twenty feet away, his letterman jacket hanging carelessly off one shoulder as if he'd thrown it on in haste. The morning light caught the fresh bandages peeking from beneath his sleeve, the white gauze standing out starkly against his golden skin. His gaze flicked to Ethan, then back to her, his jaw clenched tight enough to c***k teeth.

"We need to talk."

Ethan's posture shifted immediately, his shoulders squaring as he stepped slightly in front of Sabrina. "What the f**k does he want?" he muttered under his breath. Sabrina's mouth went dry. Of all the times, all the places—

Liam took a step forward, his usual composure fraying at the edges. "Please, Sabrina."

The raw note in his voice startled her. This wasn't the cocky quarterback who'd teased her over coffee yesterday. This was someone unraveling.

She threw Ethan a —what- the-hell look—before crossing to Liam. Up close, she could see the faint tremor in his hands, the sheen of sweat at his temples despite the autumn chill.

"What has your feathers ruffled?" she asked, forcing a lightness she didn't feel.

"Not here." His fingers closed around her wrist, tugging her toward the coffee shop from the other day. His grip was too tight, his pulse racing against her skin like a caged bird.

Ethan made a low noise in his throat. "Sab—"

"It's fine," she called over her shoulder, though nothing about this felt fine. "I'll catch up with you later."

The bell above the café door jingled with grotesque cheerfulness as Liam steered her to the same corner table they'd occupied yesterday. He practically collapsed into the chair, running both hands through his hair until it stood in wild, golden peaks.

"I know you said you'd keep it a secret," he began, voice low and urgent, "but everyone's talking about us. The team, the sorority houses, my frat boys—it's all anyone's discussing this morning."

His knee bounced uncontrollably beneath the table. "Soon enough, people will ask questions. We need to get our story straight."

Sabrina blinked. "Liam, I'm sure everyone's already drawn their own conclusions. Boy and girl leave a party together? They're not exactly imagining you bandaging your wrists."

He flinched as if struck. "We can't have them thinking like that, Sabrina. We can't."

"Why not?" The question slipped out softer than she intended, raw as an open wound. It's the 21st century nobody's going to kill you for having a one night stand.

Pathetic. Begging to be labeled a w***e. But she could not help herself.

Liam's throat worked. Then, barely audible:

"I have a girlfriend."

The words hit like a sucker punch to the solar plexus.

Sabrina's heart plummeted to her stomach. The air vanished from her lungs, replaced by a leaden weight that made her fingers go numb against the tabletop. She stared at his moving lips— stories, plans—but the roaring in her ears drowned them out.

Some detached part of her brain noted the details: the way his left eyelid twitches with nervous tension, the bitten-raw state of his bottom lip which still managed to send a wave of heat through her, and the faint scar through his right eyebrow she'd never noticed before.

Tears pricked at her eyes, but blinked them away furiously, nails digging into her palms.

"So," she managed, her voice steadier than she felt, "what's the plan?"

Liam exhaled sharply. "We told people we were working on a project. That you're tutoring me in...hell, I don't know, chemistry or something."

"And your girlfriend?" Sabrina asked, her fingers now leaving crescent marks on her thighs. "What does she think?"

Liam's face shuttered completely, his expression smoothing into that blank, unreadable mask she had always seen .

"I don't know.”

Sabrina looked outside from the window beside her table. Watching the few students still on campus walk by. Trying to ignore the thoughts in her head and the pain in her chest.

She had done it again, she had dared to dream, to reach out for something she had always longed to hold, but the handsome quarterback in front of her was no longer gleaming brightly with the sun behind him, now he was bathed with shadows and as she looked in his hollow eyes, she knew he would be her ruin.