Chapter 52
Andrea sat on the edge of Liam’s bed, the dim light of the room casting shadows across the walls. She clutched the hem of her sweater, her fingers twisting the fabric as she stared at the floor.
“You don’t have to look so miserable, you know,” Liam said, his tone light but with an edge of something deeper.
Andrea glanced up at him, her lips pressing into a tight line. “This wasn’t exactly how I pictured my life, Liam.”
Liam sat beside her, his presence commanding but oddly reassuring. “You’re alive, aren’t you? You’re not being shoved into lockers or tripped in the hallways anymore.”
She let out a bitter laugh. “No. Now I just feel like I’m selling pieces of myself to survive.”
Liam’s smirk faltered, his expression softening. “Andrea, I’m not making you stay here. If you want to leave, the door’s right there.”
Andrea didn’t move.
The next day, the cafeteria was unusually busy. The sound of clinking trays and low murmurs filled the air as Andrea sat at Liam’s side, his arm casually draped over the back of her chair.
His public displays of affection had become routine—little touches, a wink here, a soft laugh there. Andrea knew they were calculated, a clear message to everyone watching: She’s mine. Don’t mess with her.
And it worked.
The mocking whispers had nearly stopped. The students who once tripped her in the halls now averted their gazes. Even the faculty treated her with a cautious politeness, unwilling to cross the invisible boundary Liam had drawn.
But it came at a cost.
Andrea stared at her untouched tray of food, her stomach churning. She felt Liam shift beside her, his hand brushing hers under the table.
“You should eat,” he said quietly.
Andrea forced a small smile. “I’m not hungry.”
Liam sighed, leaning closer. “You’re making it too obvious, Andrea. At least pretend you’re okay.”
Before she could respond, a group of students passed their table. One of them, a tall boy with a smug grin, stopped and looked at Andrea.
“Still clinging to the scraps, huh, Joker?” he said, his tone mocking. “Guess it’s the only way to stay relevant.”
Andrea’s cheeks burned, but before she could speak, Liam stood, his chair scraping loudly against the floor.
“What the hell did you just say?” Liam’s voice was low, dangerous.
The boy hesitated, his confidence wavering under Liam’s glare. “I—I was just joking, man.”
Liam stepped closer, his gaze ice-cold. “You think that’s funny? Let’s see how funny you feel after I have you cleaning the bathrooms for a month.”
The boy paled, stammering, “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“Good,” Liam said, his tone sharp. “Now get the hell out of my sight.”
The boy and his friends quickly retreated, leaving Andrea staring up at Liam in surprise.
He sat back down, his expression softening as he looked at her. “Don’t let idiots like that get to you. They’re not worth it.”
Andrea nodded, though her chest felt tight.
That evening, Andrea sat in Liam’s room, the glow of the bedside lamp casting a warm light over the space. She watched as he poured two glasses of wine, his movements relaxed and confident.
“You don’t have to do that,” she said softly.
Liam glanced at her, one brow raised. “Do what?”
“Defend me like that,” she said. “It just makes people think I can’t stand up for myself.”
Liam handed her a glass, sitting beside her on the bed. “Andrea, no one’s thinking that. And even if they are, who cares? You’re under my protection. Let them talk.”
Andrea stared into her glass, her voice barely above a whisper. “Sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it.”
Liam tilted his head, studying her. “If what’s worth it?”
“Everything,” she said, her voice cracking. “This… arrangement. Staying at Blackthorn. Trying to prove I belong here when everyone thinks I don’t.”
Liam was quiet for a moment before reaching out and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. His touch was surprisingly gentle. “You do belong here, Andrea. And you’re stronger than you think.”
She looked up at him, her eyes searching his face. “Why are you being so kind to me?”
Liam smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Maybe I have a soft spot for underdogs.”
Andrea frowned. “Is that all I am to you? Some project to fix?”
Liam’s smirk faded, and for once, he looked completely serious. “No. You’re not a project. You’re… complicated. And I like that.”
Andrea’s heart skipped a beat, her emotions a tangled mess of gratitude and confusion.
Over time, Andrea began to notice things about Liam she hadn’t before.
He had a way of making her feel seen, even in the smallest moments. When they were alone, he didn’t push her beyond her limits, instead treating her with a surprising tenderness that left her conflicted.
But no matter how kind Liam was, the shame lingered. Every kiss, every touch, every casual wink in public felt like a reminder of what she’d traded for safety.
One night, as they lay side by side in his bed, Andrea finally asked the question that had been gnawing at her.
“Liam,” she said quietly, “why are you doing this? Why help me?”
He turned to look at her, his expression unreadable. “Because I don’t want to see you crushed, Andrea. Not like the others.”
“Is that it?” she pressed.
Liam hesitated, then smirked faintly. “Maybe I like having you around, Joker.”
