I stretched my arms over my head, the vertebrae in my spine popping in a satisfying, painful protest after four hours of hunched-over focus. I felt utterly drained, that specific kind of hollowed-out exhaustion that comes from working next to someone you're trying desperately to ignore.
As I dropped my arms, I caught him watching me. Liam was leaning back, looking entirely too causel, not a single sign of fatigue on his face. He looked like he'd just woken up from a nap rather than spent the afternoon digging through academic journals.
"You look exhausted," he said, his voice cutting through the library's hush. "Let's go. I'll buy you a coffee."
I paused, my hand hovering over my notebook. He spoke with such easy familiarity, as if the cold shoulder he'd given me earlier and the silence of the past few days had never happened. It was infuriating.
I was getting fed up with this game, the way he flipped the switch between being a stranger and being… whatever this was.
Without a word, I zipped my bag and slung it over my shoulder. I didn't look at him. I just started walking toward the stairs.
I heard the quick rustle of him throwing his things together, and then his footsteps were right behind me. I wasn't usually a rude person.It went against every "proper" thing I'd been taught in the Ice Palace but his behavior was making it impossible to be anything else. I felt a growing resentment simmering under my skin.
As we descended the stairs, he matched my pace effortlessly. The aisle where we'd been studying was isolated and empty, but the main floor was a different story. It was crawling with students, and the last thing I needed was to be spotted as the "secret girl" in the middle of a Marissa-fueled scandal. I increased my pace, my heart racing, until I finally pushed through the heavy exit doors.
The night air was cool and crisp, a sharp relief against my heated skin. I took a deep breath, ready to vanish into the shadows of the campus, but I only managed one step before I felt his hand wrap around my wrist.
He turned me around. The contact felt like a live wire! a jolt of electricity that made me gasp. We both froze for a second, his eyes locking onto mine, and I knew he felt it too. The air between us was suddenly thick, charged with a tension that had nothing to do with schoolwork.
I yanked my arm back, struggling out of his grip. "What are you doing?" I snapped, taking a defensive step back.
"Me?" He held up his hands, his expression a mix of innocence and amusement. "I wasn't doing anything. You're the one running away like there's a fire. What's up? Are you mad at me?"
I stared at him in disbelief. He truly was the king of No-Shame Land. To act so oblivious after being a ghost for days was a level of audacity I couldn't even process.
I took a long, steadying breath, reminding myself of my pact. Don't make it personal. "I'm not mad," I said, my voice forced and flat. "I'm tired, I'm hungry, and I'd like to go home."
"Then let me treat you," he countered, stepping closer into my personal space. "A coffee or a meal. I was late today so take it as a repayment."
He still didn't say the actual word, sorry but I could tell this was as close to an apology as a guy like Liam Lincoln ever got. For a split second, the offer was tempting. I was starving, and the idea of sitting across from him somewhere that wasn't a library felt dangerously interesting.
But then I saw the light of a nearby streetlamp and remembered where I was. I remembered Marissa. I remembered my scholarship.
"No thanks," I said, firming my resolve. "I'll see you on Tuesday."
I didn't give him a chance to argue. I turned on my heel and walked away into the darkness, my heart hammering a triumphant rhythm against my ribs. I felt a sudden, sharp burst of pride. For the first time, he'd made a move, and I was the one who walked away.