Between Us

☆ part seventeen ☆

Sophie's pov

Thursday had come around in a blur, meaning so did my date with Liam. He was currently stood in the doorway of my room, holding a bouquet of red roses. The petals were vibrant, the stems neatly wrapped in soft tissue paper with a velvet ribbon tying them together. He smiled at me in that boyish way of his, the corners of his lips tilting up like he was proud of himself. "I know these are your favorite," he said, his voice warm and a little smug. "Classic and timeless, just like you."

I took the flowers from his hands, my lips curving into a polite smile. "Thank you, Liam. They're beautiful." But my chest tightened as I looked at them. I hated how wrong it felt to not tell him the truth. My favorite flowers weren't roses—they were pink tulips. Always had been. I loved how soft and unassuming they were, their simplicity and warmth. But roses? They were too much. Too polished, too grand, like they were trying too hard to be perfect. Still, I didn't have the heart to correct him. I grabbed a vase from my dresser, filling it with water before setting the bouquet carefully inside. The red looked striking against the pale glass, but I couldn't help but glance at the empty spot on my desk where a small bundle of pink tulips normally sat, my favourite flower.

I pushed the thought away, turning back to Liam, who was watching me with that hopeful look in his eyes. He stepped closer, his hands stuffed in his pockets as he glanced around my room. "So," he said, his voice light. "What's the plan for today?"

I froze for half a second, realizing with a sinking feeling that I hadn't planned anything. The week had been a blur between school, the shelter, and... well, Lark. The thought of this date had slipped through the cracks, and now I felt my stomach twist with guilt. But Liam didn't seem to notice my hesitation. He stood there, hopeful and expectant, and it only made me feel worse. I cleared my throat, grabbing his hand and pulling him further into the room. "I didn't really plan anything big," I admitted, trying to sound casual. "I just... I wanted to spend time with you. I thought maybe we could watch a movie or something."

Liam's face softened, and he gave me that easy, reassuring smile of his. He leaned down and kissed my cheek, his lips warm against my skin. "I don't mind," he said softly. "As long as I'm with you." His words were sweet, and they should've made me feel better. But they didn't quite reach the part of me that was tied up in knots.

I led him over to my bed, motioning for him to sit while I grabbed my laptop. He stretched out, leaning back against the pillows like he belonged there, like this was his space. I tried to match his ease, sitting beside him as I pulled up a streaming service and started scrolling. "What do you feel like watching?" I asked, glancing at him.

He shrugged, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. "You pick. I'm good with anything." I nodded, clicking on a rom-com I'd seen a hundred times before. It was safe and familiar, and I figured it wouldn't require too much attention.

As the movie started, Liam slid an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. I leaned into him out of habit, letting my head rest against his chest. His fingers traced lazy circles on my arm, and I tried to focus on the screen, but my mind kept wandering. This was supposed to feel perfect. Comfortable. Easy. But something about it felt... off. It wasn't that Liam wasn't sweet—he was. He was thoughtful, kind, and he always looked at me like I was the most important thing in his world. But lately, it felt like we were walking slightly out of sync, like there was a gap between us that neither of us knew how to close.

I shifted slightly, glancing up at him. His attention was fixed on the movie, his expression relaxed. He didn't seem to notice the way my shoulders tensed, or the way my thoughts kept circling back to something—or someone—else. I let out a soft sigh, snuggling closer to him in an attempt to quiet my mind. He kissed the top of my head, his lips lingering for a moment before he settled back into the pillows. "You okay?" he murmured.

"Yeah," I said quickly, forcing a smile. "Just tired."

He nodded, squeezing my shoulder gently. "Me too. It's nice to just relax with you, though."

I wanted to tell him I felt the same, but the words caught in my throat. Instead, I reached for his hand, intertwining our fingers. He smiled down at me, his eyes warm and steady, and I felt a pang of guilt twist in my chest. I cared about Liam—I did. But as I sat there, his arm around me and the movie playing in the background, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing. Something I couldn't quite name, but that lingered in the space between us, growing heavier with each passing moment. For now, though, I pushed it aside. I owed him this. I owed him my attention, my affection. And maybe if I tried hard enough, I could make this feel as perfect as it was supposed to be.

I tried to focus on the movie, letting the flickering light of the screen cast soft shadows across the room. The sound of the characters bantering filled the air, but the dialogue felt distant—like background noise in a place I couldn't quite reach. This was one of my favorite films, a go-to comfort watch, yet tonight it felt like I was straining to connect with it. Because I could feel Liam watching me. Not the kind of distracted glance you give someone when something reminds you of them, but the steady, deliberate kind of watching. His eyes were on me, I was sure of it. I could feel the heat of his gaze like sunlight on my skin, tracing the curve of my cheek, the line of my jaw, the set of my shoulders.

I shifted slightly, trying to focus, but it was no use. I was hyper-aware of him, of every little movement he made. The subtle shift of his weight as he leaned closer to me, the way his arm draped across the back of the couch, brushing against my shoulder, the faint sound of his breathing just beside my ear. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. I turned my head, and there he was, smiling softly, as if he'd been waiting for me to notice. His gaze was warm, unhurried, and so full of quiet affection that it made my chest tighten. "What?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, half-laughing to cover the strange rush of nerves curling in my stomach.

"You're just... really pretty," he said, his voice steady, low. The sincerity in his tone was almost too much to take.

I felt my cheeks heat, a blush creeping up my neck. "Liam," I said, letting out a small laugh as I looked down, trying to deflect the intensity of his gaze.

"I mean it," he said, his hand reaching up to gently cup my cheek. His thumb brushed over my skin, soft and slow, and I felt myself leaning into the touch despite myself.

"Thanks," I said softly, my voice barely audible. I looked back at him, and his expression was so open, so earnest, that it made something inside me twist uncomfortably.

He leaned in then, his lips brushing against mine in a kiss so tentative, so careful, that it made my breath catch. I kissed him back, hesitating for only a moment before letting myself sink into the familiarity of it. His hand slipped to the back of my neck, drawing me closer, and the kiss deepened. His lips were warm, firm but gentle, moving against mine in a way that should have made my heart race. And at first, it did. But as his other hand rested against my waist, pulling me closer, I couldn't ignore the growing tension in my chest.

I kissed him harder, as if the act itself could drown out the thoughts creeping into my mind. His hands were so warm, his touch so familiar, but something felt off. Not with him—never with him. Liam was sweet and patient, everything I could've asked for. But as much as I tried, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing. His lips moved against mine, soft and insistent, and I willed myself to feel what I was supposed to feel. The giddy excitement, the butterflies, the rush of being wanted by someone who cared so much for me.

But instead, I felt a pang of guilt. As we broke apart for a moment, his forehead resting gently against mine, his eyes searched my face. "You okay?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

I nodded quickly, forcing a small smile. "Yeah. I'm fine."

He smiled back, brushing a strand of hair out of my face. "Good," he said softly, leaning in to kiss me again.

I let him, closing my eyes as his lips found mine once more. I tried to focus on him, on the way his hands rested on my waist, the way he murmured my name against my lips. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't quiet the voice in my head, the one that kept asking why this didn't feel the way it should. Why, even with Liam so close, I felt a strange ache in my chest. Why, when I should have been losing myself in him, I couldn't stop thinking about someone else.

Lark.