I nerver saw myself as violent. but that second… I wanted to crush the smile on his face.
Elias
She was late.
Not by much.
Ten minutes, maybe twelve.
But enough.
I was standing in the kitchen, pretending to clean the counter.
Glancing at the clock. Then back at the hallway.
I told myself to wait.
Told myself she was fine.
But when minute thirteen hit, I pulled out my phone.
Opened the app.
The blue dot blinked.
Still at the bus stop.
Not moving.
I stared at the screen. Refreshed. Zoomed in.
Still there.
She never lingered that long.
Not without texting.
Not without something wrong.
My pulse climbed. Not fast. Not loud.
Just enough.
Like a low drumbeat building in the dark.
I leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching the map like it owed me an answer.
Ten more minutes passed before the dot finally moved.
Slow.
Then steady.
Toward home.
I should've relaxed.
I didn't.
I walked over to the window near the front door.
Pulled the curtain just enough to see the street.
Waited.
And then—
There they were.
Two figures walking side by side.
Liana.
And some kid.
No—some guy.
Her age. Maybe a few inches taller. Athletic build. Big smile.
He was carrying something.
A stack of books.
Her books.
She had her hands free. Walking lightly. Not laughing, but listening.
Focused. Relaxed. Too relaxed.
My jaw locked.
I didn't move. Didn't blink.
Just watched as they reached the edge of the driveway.
He said something else. Animated.
Bouncing on his heels a little like a golden retriever in sneakers.
She didn't laugh.
But her shoulders weren't tight. Her hands weren't clenched.
She looked... okay. With him.
I hated that.
Hated how fast my thoughts spun.
Who is he?
How long have they talked?
Did she ask for help?
Why didn't she text me?
He passed her the books at the foot of the stairs.
Said something.
She nodded.
He waved—broad, cheerful, full of boyish confidence.
Then walked away.
Liana stood there for a second, staring at the books in her arms.
Then turned toward the house.
I let go of the curtain before she looked up.
Stepped away from the window like it had burned me.
Paced the living room once.
Then again.
I felt stupid. Paranoid. Possessive.
The kind of guy I never wanted to be.
She's not mine.
She's not mine.
She's not—
Why the hell was he smiling so much?
I could see it. The way he looked at her.
Too obvious. Too hopeful. And she had no clue.
Of course she didn't.
She saw the best in people. Always did.
She probably thought he was just being nice. Helpful.
And maybe he was.
But I knew that look.
I'd worn it too many times in my life not to recognize it.
That kid liked her.
And I was losing my goddamn mind over it.
Not because she did anything wrong.
She didn't.
But because I couldn't stand the way she looked at him.
Not with affection.
Not even with interest.
But with ease.
Like she belonged in that moment.
And I wasn't in it.
I rubbed the back of my neck.
Realized my hands were clenched.
Relaxed them. Breathed.
It didn't help.
God, was I this messed up because I hadn't gotten laid in months?
Longer?
Was this some sick combination of jealousy and withdrawal?
I wanted to laugh.
I didn't.
She trusts me. Maybe too much.
And I didn't want to break that. Not ever.
But watching her walk with someone else, even just for a few blocks—
Felt like watching my hands let go of something I never got to hold.
She stepped inside.
Books clutched tight. Hair a little windblown. Eyes calm.
"Hey," she said. "Sorry I'm late."
I nodded.
Didn't ask. Didn't say anything about the guy.
She didn't offer, either.
And that silence between us—
It said everything I didn't want to hear.