𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞...
in which Sephora James becomes the muse of her old professor, who's fighting demons of his own
mature themes, discussions of alcoholism, family abuse
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
AN: hey all, I'm trying to make the chapters for this a little shorter than normal. I was pushing like 5k-6k words in the beginning, and i think i was struggling with trying to keep that momentum and it was throwing me for a loop. i'm hoping that by getting rid of the expectation on myself, it will motivate me to keep updating this story bc i really do love the characters. anyway, thanks for checking it out & don't be silent readers!
◃───────────▹
When Sephora awoke the next afternoon, her mind immediately drifted to Lincoln and his disheveled, drunken state. She had thought about him all the way home — the way his fingers had lingered a little too long on her cheek as he brushed her hair away and the sincerity behind his words when he had called her beautiful. Rehashing it only made her cheeks burn hotter against the heat of the coffee in her mouth.
Was it the alcohol that had motivated him? Or was it genuine attraction?
Both of those possibilities scared her. More often than not, liquor flowed in his blood — that much was clear to her. She couldn't think of single moment in the last few weeks where she felt he was sober. Even on the phone, the sound of his voice gave it away. Slurred speech, sentences that trailed off unfinished, thoughts that never lined up.
Part of her mind warned Sephora to run. She had seen addiction firsthand, the effects it wielded against loved ones. Substance was all that mattered — chasing that high to shut off the mind was top priority. Feelings were disregarded. They were just extra roadblocks between oneself and the end goal.
And yet, the other side demanded her to stay. She tried to keep her distance, but the second he called, Sephora always felt the need to answer it. Unlike her parents, Lincoln's tenderness still managed to shine. Behind the wall of his alcoholic haze was a desire for connection, like he was begging for help beneath it all.
Uncertainty in herself left her feeling exposed. Sephora's track record with relationships wasn't great. She had always managed to bolt before it got too serious. She liked having fun, and keeping an emotional distance allowed her to do so. It kept her mind off the real world, about the fact that she was becoming a deadbeat, and that her sister secretly resented her for it.
Why, then, was it so hard for her to stay away from Lincoln? Why did she gravitate towards him? It went against all the boundaries she had set for herself.
Sighing, Sephora rolled over to her side, staring down at her dirtied floor before glancing at her alarm clock. It was early afternoon, and she knew Stella would be situated right outside her door, awaiting her emergence.
She was right. Stella was in a confrontational mood. The moment she walked out of her bedroom, the questions began to roll off her sister's tongue.
"Where were you last night? Why did you get home so late? Do you realize you smell like the bottom of a bar stool?"
