Chapter 79 : A Brush Of Fingers
HAYDEN’S POV
It started small, so small I almost convince myself I’m imagining it.
A brush of fingers when we both reach for the same pen in class. A split-second contact that shouldn’t mean anything but it does. It lingers. Not physically but somewhere under my skin, like a spark that refuses to die out.
I pull my hand back too quickly. “Sorry,” I mutter.
Stephen didn’t say anything but I felt it.
The way his gaze lingers on me just a second longer than it should.
The air between us tightens and I force myself to look away.
This is exactly what I didn’t want.
By the end of the day, it’s worse.
We’re both hyper-aware of each other. Every movement, every shift, every breath feels louder, heavier. Like the space between us is charged with something neither of us is willing to name or maybe we already did.
And that’s the problem.
We don’t sit next to each other anymore, not exactly. There’s always a seat between us now, like that thin line is enough to keep everything under control.
It’s not because even from a distance, I can feel him.
And when I glance up, just once, just for a second and he’s already looking at me.
Our eyes lock.
My chest tightens.
There’s something in his expression I can’t quite read but it's something that makes it harder to breathe.
I look away first, again.
“Hayden.” I blink, snapping out of it.
Lilian is standing in front of me, her arms crossed, eyebrows slightly raised.
“You’ve been zoning out a lot today,” she says.
“Just tired,” I replied quickly.
It’s automatic now….the excuses. Her gaze lingers on me for a moment, like she doesn’t fully believe it, but she lets it go.
“Come on,” she says, nudging my arm lightly. “Walk me back?”
“Yeah…sure.” Anything to not think or to not look over my shoulder and check if he’s still there.
But of course, he is. I feel it before I see it.
That same awareness prickling at the back of my neck and when I do glance back—Stephen’s there, a few steps behind us. He was not close enough to be part of the conversation but not far enough either.
My jaw tightens slightly.
Lilian keeps talking, something about plans for the weekend, but her voice fades into the background because now every step feels like torture.
Like we are all playing roles in something none of us signed up for.
At one point, Lilian laughs and leans into me slightly and I let her. I should. It’s normal. She is my girlfriend but when I glance back again…Stephen’s gaze flicks to where her hand is resting against my arm.
Something shifts in his expression. It’s quick. Almost gone before I can fully catch it but it’s there.
And it hits harder than it should.
By the time we reach my place, my head is a mess. “Text me later?” Lilian says, smiling softly.
“Yeah,” I replied.
She leans in, pressing a quick kiss to my lips but I do not feel that spark I felt when I kissed Stephen. “Get some sleep,” she adds before pulling away.
“I will.”
I watch her leave, waiting until she’s out of sight before turning toward the door.
I should feel… settled and relieved.
Instead, my chest feels tight all over again because there’s only one thing on my mind now and I hate it.
The door isn’t locked. I frown slightly as I push it open, stepping inside.
“Stephen?” I call out, more out of habit than anything.
There was no answer.
I step further in, kicking the door shut behind me and then I hear it.
A voice, it wasn't his. My steps are slow. There’s a low murmur coming from down the hall. It was Laughter.
Something in my chest twists sharply.
I already know. I don’t need to see it but I do anyway because I’m an idiot and I can't.
I round the corner and stop.
Stephen’s there. Leaning casually against the edge of his bed like nothing in the world is wrong, like everything is perfectly normal.
My gaze shifts.
There’s someone else in the room.
A guy I’ve never seen before. He is sitting on the bed, relaxed, as he belongs there.
My stomach drops.
“Oh,” Stephen says, like he just noticed me. His tone is neutral. Too neutral. “You’re back.”
I don’t respond because my chest feels like it’s being squeezed too tightly. Because I get it now. This is his answer. This is how he moves on.
Fast, so easy like I didn’t matter.
“This is…” Stephen starts, gesturing toward the guy.
“I don’t care,” I cut in sharply.
The words come out harsher than I intended but I don’t take them back.
I can’t.
There’s a flicker in Stephen’s eyes. “Right,” he says simply.
The other guy looks between us, clearly picking up on the tension.
“Uh… should I….”
“No,” Stephen says quickly, his gaze still locked on mine. “You’re good.”
Something in my chest snaps at that.
“Are you serious right now?” I ask, my voice low.
Stephen shrugs slightly. “What?”
“What?” I echo, a sharp laugh escaping me. “You’re just… bringing people here now?”
His expression hardens slightly. “It’s my room too.”
“That’s not…” I cut myself off, running a hand through my hair.
Why do I care? I shouldn’t. I told him it was a mistake. So why does this feel like….
“Like what?” Stephen presses, pushing off the bed slightly. “Say it.”
I shake my head. “Forget it.”
“No,” he says, stepping closer now. “You don’t get to walk in here acting like this and then just…what? Drop it?”
My jaw clenches. “Acting like what?” I shoot back.
“Like you have a say in what I do,” he says, his voice sharper now.
The words hit hard because he’s right and I hate that he’s right.
“I don’t,” I say, forcing the words out.
“Good,” he replies immediately.
There’s a beat of silence.
Heavy. Thick.
The guy on the bed shifts awkwardly. “I can just go….”
“No,” Stephen says again, not breaking eye contact with me.
My chest tightens.
He’s doing this on purpose and the worst part? It’s working.