Chapter 19: The Feeling's He Avoided
(Mia Anderson POV)
The phone lit up.
Not Evan.
An unknown number.
"You found someone to walk you home tonight?".
My chest tightened.
Who is this? I typed.
Three dots appeared.
Then disappeared.
. . .
"Did you mean it?"
I stopped walking.
The question wasn't loud. It didn't need to be. Evan had a way of asking things like he was bracing for the answer before it arrived.
I turned slowly. "Mean what?"
He exhaled through his nose. Not annoyed. Just… tired. "Your message."
I folded my arms. "I don't send things I don't mean."
"That's not what I asked."
Students moved around us, backpacks brushing, voices overlapping. Someone laughed too loudly behind me. The sound felt misplaced.
"You said you didn't wait," Evan continued. "I need to know if that was… literal. Or if it was..."
"Or if it was meant to hurt you?" I finished.
He didn't deny it.
"I didn't plan it," I said. "I just answered honestly."
"Honestly," he repeated. "So you didn't wait."
"I stopped," I said.
"That's the same thing."
"It's not."
He watched my face like he was trying to catch something before it slipped away. "When?"
"When what?"
"When did you stop?"
I hesitated.
That was answer enough.
"Mia," he said quietly. "If I did something..."
"You didn't do one thing," I said,Cutting him off. "You did a lot of little ones."
His jaw tightened. "That's vague."
"I know."
"Then explain it to me."
I looked past him, at the glass doors of the lecture building. At my reflection faintly overlapping his. "I kept feeling like I was asking for space you were already halfway out of."
"That's not fair."
"Maybe," I said. "But it's how it felt."
He stepped closer. Not enough to touch. Just enough that I noticed the distance closing.
"I'm here," he said. "I've always been here."
I swallowed. "You're around. That's different."
His eyes flickered. "So this is about attention now?"
"No," I said immediately. "It's about effort."
"That's not the same—"
"It is to me."
The silence stretched again. Heavy this time. Not intentional. Not gentle.
"I don't know how to do this if you won't tell me when something's wrong," he said.
"I don't know how to keep telling you and watching nothing change."
His shoulders dropped a fraction. Like the argument had finally landed somewhere it couldn't be ignored.
Behind him, someone cleared their throat.
"Mia?"
I closed my eyes for half a second.
Liam.
Of course it was.
I opened them and turned. He stood a few steps away, hands loose at his sides, expression neutral. Not intruding. Just… present.
"Hey," he said. "Didn't mean to interrupt."
Evan's gaze shifted. Sharp. Assessing.
"It's fine," I said too quickly. "What's up?"
"You left your phone in the library," Liam said, holding it up. "Figured you'd want it back before it disappears forever."
"Oh." I took it. Our fingers brushed. Brief. Nothing dramatic. Still, Evan noticed.
"Thanks," I said.
"No problem." Liam glanced at Evan, then back to me. "You good?"
I nodded. "Yeah."
Evan scoffed coldly. "Funny."
"What?" I asked.
"That you answer him immediately."
Liam's brows drew together. "I wasn't trying to..."
"It's fine," Evan cut in, eyes still on me. "I see what's happening."
"You're seeing what you want to see," I said.
"Am I?!" His voice dropped. "Because from where I'm standing, you didn't wait… and now you're not alone."
"That's not..."
"Evan," Liam said calmly. "I don't think this is..."
"Stay out of it," Evan snapped.
The words were sharp enough to cut through the air.
Liam didn't flinch. "I will, Just don't put words in her mouth."
I felt something twist. Not relief. Not attraction. Just… something unsettling about being defended when I hadn't asked for it.
"I don't need either of you to speak for me," I said.
Both of them went quiet.
"I didn't stop waiting because of him," I continued, looking at Evan. "And I'm not starting something new to punish you."
"Then what is this?" Evan asked.
"I don't know," I admitted. "That's the problem."
He stared at me like he was memorizing my face. Like he was trying to decide if this version of me was temporary.
"Do you still want me?" he asked.
The question landed wrong. Too raw. Too exposed.
"I..." My throat tightened. "I don't know how to answer that without lying to one of us."
Liam shifted. "Mia, I can..."
"Don't," I said gently. "Please."
He nodded and stepped back. Gave us space without being asked twice.
Evan watched the movement carefully.
"You didn't answer," he said.
"I'm trying to," I whispered.
He ran a hand through his hair. "This is why I don't like maybes."
"I didn't ask you to like it."
"I asked you to be honest."
"I am being honest."
"Then say it."
I opened my mouth.
Nothing came out.
His expression changed then. Not anger. Something quieter,More dangerous, colder.
"Okay," he said after a moment. "I get it."
"Evan..."
"No," he interrupted. "I said I get it."
He took a step back. Then another.
"You don't need to explain," he continued. "You've already made your choice."
"That's not fair," I said, my voice rising. "I didn't choose anyone."
"You chose not to choose me."
The words hit harder than I expected.
He turned away before I could respond.
"Evan," I called.
He didn't stop.
Liam waited until Evan disappeared into the crowd before speaking.
"You okay?" he asked.
I let out a shaky laugh. "I should be asking you that."
"I'm fine," he said. "You look like someone just pulled the floor out from under you."
"That's one way to describe it."
He hesitated. "Do you want company right now? Or space?"
I considered the question. The fact that he'd asked it at all.
"Company," I said. "But quiet."
"Deal."
We walked without touching. Not close. Not far.
After a minute, he said, "He cares about you."
"I know, but he's just ..... restrained."
"And you care about him."
I didn't answer.
"That silence again," he said lightly.
"I'm tired of hurting people," I admitted.
"Sometimes not choosing hurts too," he said.
I stopped. Looked at him. "You sound like you've been on the wrong end of that."
"More than once."
"Why are you here then?" I asked. "Why step into something messy?"
He met my eyes. "Because I don't mind standing in the mess if it means I don't have to pretend it's clean."
That should've scared me.
Instead, it stayed with me.
At my dorm, I paused at the door.
"Thank you," I said. "For the phone. And… earlier."
He nodded. "Anytime."
I reached for the handle.
"Mia," he added.
"Yes?"
"If he asks you to choose… don't do it just to end the discomfort."
I frowned. "Why?"
"Because discomfort passes," he said. "Regret doesn't."
I searched his face for something.... expectation, pressure, hope.
There was none.
"Goodnight," he said.
"Goodnight."
Inside my room, I dropped my bag and sat on the bed.
My phone buzzed.
Evan.
I stared at the screen.
Didn't open it.
It buzzed again.
And again.
I turned it face down.
A minute passed.
Another buzz.
This time, a different name lit the screen.
Unknown Number:
He's not telling you everything.
My breath caught.
Another message came through before I could react.
Unknown Number:
Ask him where he was last night.
I sat frozen, heart pounding, staring at the words.
When my phone buzzed again...
. . .
Evan Carter POV
I don't know when it started.
That's the problem.
I keep replaying the day like there's a moment I missed...some clear line I crossed...but it all blurs together. Classes. Hallways. Her not looking back. Her looking back and not stopping.
I keep telling myself it's nothing.
That usually works.
Tonight it doesn't.
"Another?" the bartender asks.
I glance at the glass in front of me. Half gone. Maybe more. Hard to tell under the low light.
"Yeah," I say. "Why not."
He pours without comment. I like places like this. Nobody asks questions. Nobody recognizes me. Nobody knows what I'm not supposed to be feeling.
The TV above the bar is playing something loud and pointless. A game. People shouting. I'm not watching.
I'm watching the door.
I don't know why.
I take a sip. Too fast. It burns on the way down, sharp enough to cut through the noise in my head for half a second.
I let it.
My phone buzzes.
I don't pick it up.
Not right away.
I've been doing that a lot lately—waiting. Like if I don't look, things can't change.
"Everything okay?" the bartender asks, nodding at the phone.
"Yeah," I say. "Just work."
He gives me a look that says he doesn't believe me but doesn't care enough to press.
Fair.
The phone buzzes again.
I exhale slowly and check the screen.
Unknown number.
I lock it and set the phone face down.
Not tonight.
I take another drink. Slower this time. The edge dulls, spreads warm through my chest. It doesn't fix anything, but it makes the silence easier to sit with.
A laugh cuts through the bar noise. Too close. Too familiar.
I glance to my left without thinking.
She's not there.
Of course she's not.
I'm doing that thing again—seeing her in empty spaces. Hearing her voice where it doesn't belong. I hate it. Hate how quiet it makes me.
I finish the drink.
"Last one," I tell the bartender.
He nods. "Sure."
My phone vibrates.
Once.
Twice.
I don't look.
I already know who it is.
Or who it could be.
Or who it shouldn't be.
The glass hits the bar harder than I mean it to.
"Everything okay?" he asks again.
"Yeah," I say. "Just tired."
He doesn't respond this time. Just wipes down the counter in front of me like he's giving me space to lie better.
I check the phone.
Still unknown.
A text preview slides across the screen before I can stop it.
You shouldn't be here.
My thumb stills.
I stare at the words like they might rearrange themselves if I wait long enough.
They don't.
I lock the phone.
Then unlock it again.
Another message comes through.
You're slipping.
My jaw tightens.
I type without thinking.
Who is this?
Three dots appear almost immediately.
Disappear.
Appear again.
The bartender clears his throat. "You want me to call you a ride?"
"No," I say too fast. "I'm fine."
The phone vibrates.
I look down.
You were supposed to keep your distance.
The bar feels smaller. Louder. Like the walls moved in while I wasn't paying attention.
I stand, pushing the stool back.
"How much?" I ask.
"On the house," the bartender says, eyes flicking to my phone. "Just… get home safe."
I don't thank him.
I walk outside.
The night air hits harder than the drink ever did. Cold. Honest. It doesn't care what I'm running from.
I unlock the phone.
Another message is already there.
She's not as protected as you think.
My fingers hover over the screen.
I start typing.
Stop.
Delete.
I type again.
Don't bring her into this.
The reply comes instantly.
You already did.
I stand there under the streetlight, phone glowing in my hand, heart beating too loud for the quiet street....
when another message comes in.
And this one isn't from an unknown number.
It's from Mia.
The message loads.
My chest tightens...
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