I don’t fall in love, I consume it
I don’t fall in love, I consume it
It’s just after ten a.m. when I drag myself toward the campus café, the October chill pebbling my skin. The wind picks up, threading through my oversized sweater.
Last night, I did a lot of thinking. To the point I finally had to take a sleeping pill to knock myself out. I knew Oliver was watching. The one time I peeked through my window, I saw him leaning against the tree below. Sleeping without him after weeks of being together had me tossing and turning.
I’m the third person in line when the door swings open behind me, and Blaine walks in. I instinctively shift, turning my body toward the counter. We haven’t spoken one-on-one since Amelia’s vigil, just the occasional wave or a muttered “hi” in passing.
“Lyra.”
I turn, slowly, giving him a tentative smile. “Hey.” He’s a few spots back in line, far enough that conversation isn’t possible. I nod once and turn back to the counter.
“One hot mocha with whipped cream, please. Extra shot.” I pause. “And a hot vanilla latte.” Might as well get Oliver something for this conversation.
The barista lets out a knowing laugh. “One of those nights?”
I smile, laughing along with her, pressing my card to the reader. “More like one of those weeks.”
I throw down a few bills for a tip before stepping to the side to wait. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Blaine making his order, then walking toward me.
“Lyra, can we talk?”
“Sure?” It comes out more like a question.
“How are you?” he asks.
“I’m okay. You’ve been kind of MIA recently,” I add.
“Umm, yeah. I…” He runs his hand through his hair. “Dealing with a lot.”
“Anything I can help with?”
“No. I’ve been wanting to talk to you, but every time I see you, you’re with Oliver.” His smile turns sad.
“For Lyra.” I grab both drinks and turn back to him. His eyes, those eyes I used to stare into for hours, are full of regret. Of things unsaid.
“I can’t, Blaine. You know this.”
Even though Oliver and I are not in the best place, I won’t and can’t give Blaine any false hope.
“I know you and Oliver are together, but I need to at least try. Molly told me everything. I can't, Lyra. I can’t even…”
I doubt she told him the truth or even half of what happened.
I step closer to him, lowering my voice.
“It’s not that I didn’t want to tell you, but after telling the police and them dismissing it, I just.” I lift my shoulders.
“I was afraid you also wouldn’t believe me since she is your best friend. ”
“You were my best friend, Lyra.”
I glance around, seeing that the coffee shop has filled up, then look back at Blaine. “I have to go.” I walk out of the café and head straight for the fountain.
I hear footsteps behind me, rushing toward me. “I loved you!” Blaine shouts.
I stop as if my feet became glued to the floor. I knew he loved me. I could’ve loved him, too, if we’d been given a chance, but something always held me back. Now I realize it was because Blaine never consumed me the way Oliver consumes me.
“I still love you,” he says more quietly, but loud enough to hear a few shocked gasps around us. “Lyra, my world stopped when I heard you were hurt. When you disappeared…I didn’t know where to go, what to believe.”
I turn toward him just as a sharp gasp cuts through the air. Molly stands nearby, hand over her mouth. Frozen. And behind her, Oliver. His stare is lethal. His walk, slow and deliberate. Controlled, like a storm about to break. It’s like watching a horror movie unfold in real time.
Blaine doesn’t notice him. Molly hasn’t either. She’s too busy watching Blaine like he just tore her heart out. “You love her?” she asks, voice trembling.
“It’s none of your business, Molly,” Blaine bites out. “Yes, I still love her. That’s no secret.”
I take a small step back, still gripping both drinks. Molly’s eyes drop to them, and her face twists.
Blaine’s hands are empty. He didn’t even bother grabbing his coffee, and I know when she puts the wrong pieces together.
“You’re a fucking whore, Lyra. You come back and go after Oliver, and now you’re getting coffee with Blaine?”
“I think I should go,” I say, taking another step, but she’s already moving.
My head whips to the side from the impact of her palm. It’s weak—more insult than injury, but the sound snaps the entire quad into silence.
“What the fuck is wrong with you!” Blaine shouts, moving closer.
Oliver is suddenly there, pain and anger on his face as he steps in front of me, blocking out the people around us. He grips my chin, inspecting the mark. His eyes are bottomless, black with fury.
“You okay, Dollface?” He runs light fingers over my cheek, kissing it once, twice, and then resting his lips there for a moment.
I nod, stunned. “Yeah. I’m good.” I hand him both drinks automatically. He takes them without blinking.
Coming out of my shock, I march right up to Molly and slap her so hard across the face that my wrist aches from the momentum. My ring cuts into her skin, and a tiny piece of satisfaction blooms inside me, watching as the blood trickles down. “Fuck you, Molly. Haven't you done enough?”
She grabs at her cheek, eyes watering. “You really think I wanted any of this? You just take and take, not caring about anyone else. You have everything.”
She’s talking about Blaine. I know it. Blaine knows it too, judging by the look on his face, like she just drove a knife straight into his chest.
He once told me Molly struggled back in high school. In and out of treatment. But he’d known her since they were kids, and I think part of him never learned how to separate the girl he grew up with from the person standing in front of him now.
“Molly,” Oliver says, his voice chilled and quiet. “You just laid hands on what’s mine.”
She scoffs.
“Do you know what happened to the last person who talked about Lyra like that?” He lowers his voice so only we can hear. “I would kill them, but I think Lyra would be upset at me if I did.”
He lets the silence linger. “You’re going to apologize to Lyra.
Then you’re going to walk away. You’re going to take your little friend here and forget this conversation ever happened.
But let me make this clear: if Lyra gives me a single nod, or even blinks, giving me the go-ahead, I will gladly end your life. ”
Then Oliver turns to Blaine, voice flat. “Say you love her again, and I’ll cut out your tongue.”
He slips his arm around me, pulling me away. I follow, not looking back, taking the coffee he still has in his hands. He doesn’t say a word. His grip is firm around my waist, but I feel the shake in his body.
We stop near the edge of the garden, the sound of the fountain just out of sight. “I’m going to ask one more time. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I whisper. “It didn’t hurt.”
He doesn’t look convinced. “She touched you.”
“I know.”
He exhales through his nose. A moment of silence between us. Heavy with last night’s revelations.
I sink onto a bench, setting my drink beside his. I press my lips together, then force myself to ask, “Would you have really done it? Hurt him? Killed Molly?”
He lifts one hand, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Yes. In all honesty, I went there yesterday intending to end her life, regardless of you telling me not to.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No.” His thumb brushes lightly against my cheek.
“Because while I stood there waiting for the right moment, I realized something. If, God forbid, I got caught, which is unlikely, but I’m not invincible, I’d spend the rest of my life locked away.
” His gaze locks onto mine. “And existing in a world where I can’t be beside you every day is not something I could survive. ”
His confession hangs over us like a storm cloud ready to break. There’s no guilt in his voice. No hesitation. Just cold, terrifying certainty.
“You didn’t stop me back there.” He frowns.
“What?”
“When I threatened her. When I threatened him.” He leans in slightly, lowering his voice. “You didn’t flinch. You didn’t pull away.”
His fury didn’t scare me; it wrapped around me like a warm blanket. “I don’t need you to protect me.”
“You don’t. You can take care of yourself if you need to, but I need to.” And there it is, his version of love. Not soft. Not gentle. But all-consuming.
He stands, pulling me to my feet in one movement. “Do you still want to talk?”
“Yes, but can we go back to the bookstore?”
The softest smile splits his face. “Yeah, baby, we can.”