10. Nessa

Embarking on this friends-with-benefits journey seems more complex than I initially thought. Leaving Liam's side after our first night together was unexpectedly challenging. I caught myself staring at his chest longer than I should have, teetering on the edge of becoming a creeper.

I've hardly navigated anything close to a relationship before, much less this casual kind. My track record with guys isn't as extensive as some might guess.

Sighing, I admit to myself that this setup was probably a long shot. Two weeks in, and the lines we drew are already fading. Despite my efforts, it's hard not to get emotionally involved.

My fingers absentmindedly caress the intricate lace and dark gemstones of the little Victorian gothic bracelet he gave me three days ago—a memento from our "Netflix and chill" night at a downtown hotel. His gesture, casual yet thoughtful, had my heart racing with excitement, though he was quick to frame it as a no-strings-attached kind of gift.

"Don't read anything into this. I buy presents for my friends all the time, and this reminded me of you," he said, his words trying to keep the moment light, even though it felt significantly personal.

I nodded silently, not wanting him to see how deeply his gift affected me. It was the most thoughtful thing I'd received in years, marking a moment of unexpected connection.

Now, as leaving his bed becomes slightly more difficult with each encounter, I find his presence turning into a comforting constant. I'm opening up to him more, the once clear lines between us beginning to blur, stirring questions about the boundaries we once thought solid.

My reverie is broken by a gentle touch on my shoulder. Turning, I'm met with Poppy's concerned gaze.

"You seem miles away. Everything alright?" she probes.

I wave off her concern with a practiced ease, standing from my spot at the foot of my bed. Both Poppy and Eva have become adept at reading me, a level of attention I'm still adjusting to.

"Just lost in thought, nothing interesting," I reply, offering a grin that feels more like a mask. It used to work on everyone, but my friends have grown too perceptive and unsettlingly; they truly care.

"Okay…" Poppy's voice trails, her eyes searching mine for more. "We're still on for tonight, right? Girls' night?"

The mention of our plans brings a genuine smile to my face. "Wouldn't miss it for the world." And I mean it. It's our last girls' night before my dreaded trip home, and I need to get as much positivity as I can.

"Cool. I'm off to grab snacks. Coming?" she asks, pointing at the door.

I shake my head. "Got to work on my special project," I say, the words leaving a sour taste. "Special project," my coded term for Liam Ashford. Keeping our casual fling from the girls feels wrong, but Liam and I agreed it's for the best. Sharing too much could invite complications despite our friends' best intentions.

After saying goodbye to Poppy, I head out, my thoughts already jumping ahead to Liam's apartment. The walk there is quick, a familiar path that I've come to know well. Despite the unease about our secrecy, the anticipation of seeing him again pushes those concerns to the back of my mind.

As soon as I ring the bell, the door opens, and Liam greets me with that grin that always seems to make everything else melt away, as his happiness is infectious.

He wraps his arms around me, pulling me close for a deep, hard kiss that sends sparks through my every nerve. I can't suppress a slight wince—not from any leftover discomfort but from the lingering fatigue of last night's exertions.

"Still feeling the aftermath of our last night together?" The concern in his eyes is unmistakable, mixed with a playful spark that I've come to recognize. His eyebrows quirk up in that familiar, teasing manner.

Blushing, I shake my head, meeting his gaze squarely. "Actually, I took a ballet class yesterday. Pushed myself a little too much," I confess, watching his surprise with a hint of amusement.

"Ballet, huh?" His interest is piqued, eyes sparkling with curiosity and something naughtier. "That explains the flexibility."

I laugh, leaning into his embrace with a playful nudge. "Yeah, thank the ballet gods for that," I quip, the air between us charged with an easy, sensual energy.

He chuckles, pulling me closer. "Well, thank you, ballet gods," he murmurs; the low rumble of his voice against my chest sends a shiver down my spine.

The mood shifts subtly, a mix of teasing and tender curiosity as Liam encourages me to share more. "Tell me about ballet. I want to know what makes you move," he says, his tone warm and inviting, pulling me to the sofa where a beer and a cocktail are waiting.

Taking a deep breath, I find the words flowing more freely than expected. "I've danced since I was little. Ballet was… it was a part of me I cherished," I start, the memories vivid and bittersweet. "But life happened, and I lost touch with it. Lost a part of myself along the way."

He listens intently, his gaze never wavering from my lips as I speak, making me feel heard in a way I hadn't realized I'd missed.

"It's only recently, with this new chapter of my life—moving here, meeting you—that I've started to find that lost part again. Dancing makes me feel alive. It's like rediscovering who I was meant to be."

Liam's hand finds mine, squeezing gently. "I'm glad you're finding your way back to what you love. It's… sexy knowing you have this passion. And kinda inspiring." He pulls me back against him, running his hand up and down the curve of my ass. "Would you dance for me?"

In another universe, I would have loved dancing for him, but not now, not when I know that my moves, while perfectly formed, can't follow a melody like they once did.

"Maybe, if you're a good boy," I tease back, trying to keep the mood light despite my lie. We're here for the fun parts, not the heavy stuff.

"I plan on being the best," he quips, giving a playful squeeze before guiding me onto his lap on the sofa, our bodies aligning in an intimacy that feels both exhilarating and comforting.

I run a nail lightly over his shirt, and he sharply inhales as I get close to his nipple. "So, what's up?"

He leans in, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "How about we escape to my family's place in the Caribbean over the break? Imagine a whole week to ourselves."

"Are you proposing a week-long sexathon?" I joke, though my heart races at the thought. Isn't this stepping over the line we promised not to cross?

But you're dying to cross it, aren't you?My heart pipes in.

I let out a sigh, feeling suddenly deflated on his lap.

"Okay… That's not quite the enthusiasm I was hoping for, but?—"

"I would love to," I interrupt, more forcefully than I intend.

He looks puzzled. "You're sending mixed signals. Not gonna lie."

I nod earnestly this time. "I do want to, really, but I can't. I've got to face the Caldwell interrogation in California. It's their quarterly ‘What's wrong with Vanessa now' gathering." I aim for humor, but the bite of my words betrays the real feelings underneath. Liam's expression shifts to one of genuine concern, making my heart twinge.

Attempting to slide off his lap, I'm stopped by his firm grasp on my hips.

"You don't want to go," he states plainly, cutting through the pretense.

I can't bring myself to lie to him, so I admit the truth with a shake of my head.

"So tell them to fuck off and come with me instead," he suggests boldly, as if it's the simplest solution in the world.

I can't help but laugh, though I sense it's tinged with a sadness I can't quite mask. "I wish it were that simple, I really do, but I can't. It's… complicated," I admit, the word feeling like an understatement.

"Why?" His one-word question is loaded, inviting me to open up more than I'd planned.

Glancing at the clock, I hesitate. "Let's not get into it now. We've got limited time, and I don't want to ruin what we have left."

He's undeterred, shaking his head gently. "But that's just it, isn't it? In friends with benefits, being friends is supposed to be the key part. We should be able to talk about these things."

A deep sigh escapes me as I rest my hands on his shoulders, feeling the weight of our situation. How is it possible not to grow more attached to him with each passing moment?

I pause, staring into Liam's eyes, wrestling with whether I should unveil the chaos of my family life. He's always seen me as some kind of badass, effortlessly cool and collected. The thought of him peeking behind the curtain, seeing the mess that I really am, is terrifying. What if he realizes I'm not as strong as he thinks? What if he sees the real me—the girl who's felt unloved, the one who sometimes thinks she might actually be unlovable—and decides it's too much?

The fear of disappointing him or, worse, of being rejected after that revelation weighs heavily on me. Yet, looking into his eyes, seeing the genuine concern and the earnest desire to understand, part of me wants to share everything. But it's hard opening up about the deepest, darkest parts of yourself, especially when you've spent so long hiding them away.

I start, then hesitate, releasing a heavy sigh as I search for the right words. Liam waits, his patience tangible, his thumb drawing comforting circles on my hip. "My grandpa… he set aside some money for me, a college fund after I was born," I begin, trying to keep my tone light. "He did the same for my sister, but she's a lot older. I guess I was the unplanned bonus," I attempt to joke, but the laughter doesn't quite reach my eyes—a truth too often echoed in my mother's reminders that I'm nothing more than a failed pill.

"Anyway," I rush on, noticing the shadow of concern on Liam's face, "when I lost my hearing, things got… complicated." Complicated feels like an understatement. "My grandpa started to doubt if I could handle money, though he didn't stop the fund." In my head, I add, he was the only one who thought I wouldn't end up a total mess. "So, he put my parents in charge of it. And yeah, I'm here on a scholarship, but I still depend on that monthly allowance from them."

"They use that against you?" Liam's lips move clearly, his annoyance visible even without me hearing the tone of his voice. I've learned to read his expressions well, a skill that's come in handy more than once.

I offer a half-hearted shrug, trying to cloak the sharp bite of reality with a facade of indifference. "Pretty much."

"I see."

Do you, though?I ponder silently, watching his lips for clues to his thoughts. It's a silent dialogue I've become accustomed to, always wondering how much of my world he can truly understand. How could he fully grasp it? He's Liam Ashford, from a world so different from my own. No matter how much I try to overlook our differences, I can't help but remind myself that what I rely on monthly might just be what he spends in a day.

"That's not fair to you," he says, his words deliberate, ensuring I can follow along. "Your worth isn't tied to their conditions or that money."

I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. "You'd think so, right? But somehow, it always comes back to that. It's like I'm constantly proving I'm more than their accident."

"You are," he asserts, reaching for my hand. "You're so much more, Nessa. Don't let their doubts define you."

I squeeze his hand, a small smile breaking through. "So anyway, they paid for the plane. I'll just go for a few days, let them have their fun, and then it'll be over with," I explain, trying to sound more resigned than upset.

He doesn't say anything more. Instead, he just pulls me in close, wrapping his arms around me in a way that feels like he's trying to shield me from everything else. Then he kisses me, soft and slow, in a way that makes everything else fade away.

When we break the kiss, I slump on his lap, burying my face in the crook of his neck, feeling the vibrations of his voice through my body. It's moments like these, the quiet ones filled with unsaid words, where I feel our connection deeply—beyond words, in the comfort of his presence that speaks volumes to me. It's quiet, relaxing, and for a moment, all the troubled thoughts in my head just stop.

It's weird, but sitting here with him, not doing anything more than getting lost in his warmth, feels more intimate than every time we have sex. And when it's time to leave, I realize we didn't even give each other release. But somehow, this felt closer, more real.

Liam gives me a last lingering kiss at the door, and it feels like he's as reluctant as I am to break this special moment.

Walking away from him, something hits me hard—I'm falling for him. A little bit, maybe more. It's a scary thought; this is the best way to get hurt in the type of relationship we have.

The whole way back, I can't shake off the feeling. That tenderness, that moment of quiet connection, is stuck with me, making me wonder about all the lines we've drawn and how easy they might be to cross now.