11: A Hasty Retreat Part 02

Julian, ever attuned to the subtle dynamics within our close-knit group, subtly picked up on this almost imperceptible shift. He glanced at me when Asher spoke, noticing my fixed gaze on my untouched salad, the slight, betraying flush that still stained my neck. He then looked at Asher when I made a hesitant comment about the cafeteria’s questionable pizza, observing Asher’s focused attention on Isla, yet a faint, almost imperceptible tremor in his hand as he held his drink. A slight furrow appeared on his brow, a quiet curiosity stirring within him. “Everything okay between you two?” he asked, his gaze shifting between Asher and me, his usual cheerful demeanor slightly subdued. “You guys are usually thick as thieves.”

Thick as thieves who just engaged in a highly inappropriate and intensely arousing act of mistaken identity, my mind screamed. My stomach twisted with a fresh wave of guilt. How could I look at Julian, at his trusting, open face, knowing what had happened?

Asher’s quick, overly casual “Yeah, totally fine,” felt like a blatant lie, and his eyes flickered to mine for a fleeting moment, a spark of something unreadable–something akin to longing–before he resolutely turned back to Isla, draping an arm casually over her shoulders. The possessive gesture sent another sharp stab of jealousy through me, a physical ache in my chest that mirrored the frustrated clenching between my legs. He’s hers. He shouldn’t feel so… familiar to me.

“Just… a bit under the weather,” I mumbled, the lie feeling thin and brittle.

Julian’s brow furrowed deeper. “You’ve seemed a little off since… well, since your early exit from my birthday thing. And you were practically running away from Asher the other morning. Is everything really okay, Cece?” His directness made my heart pound. I avoided his gaze, focusing intently on the condensation gathering on my water glass, the cool dampness a stark contrast to the heat that still lingered within me at the memory of Asher’s touch.

Isla, equally perceptive, also noticed the subtle, unsettling shift. She glanced at Asher, a questioning look in her blue eyes before turning to me. “You seem a little quiet, Cece. Everything alright?”

“Just a lot on my mind,” I mumbled, avoiding eye contact with both of them.

The comfortable rhythm of our usual lunchtime gathering was subtly, almost imperceptibly disrupted by this unseen current flowing between Asher and me, a current charged with unspoken desire, the heavy weight of our shared secret, and the undeniable, electric awareness of each other’s physical presence. The others might not consciously register it, attributing our awkwardness to unspoken stress about exams or general lunchtime fatigue, but Julian and Isla, their senses sharpened by their close, long-standing relationships with both of us, could feel the almost imperceptible tension in the air, the unspoken something that had settled between two of their closest friends, a silent hum of forbidden attraction vibrating beneath the surface of our polite, carefully constructed interactions. The announcement of the semester-long project in Advanced Research Methods hung unspoken in the air, a looming specter adding another layer of potential awkwardness – and perhaps a dangerously tempting opportunity for further, illicit intimacy – to our already strained and charged dynamic.

The uncomfortable tension in the cafeteria felt thick enough to cut with a knife. Despite the lively chatter around us, the unspoken hung heavy, a constant reminder of the forbidden intimacy I now shared with Julian's best friend, a man currently nestled intimately beside his girlfriend. The jealousy gnawed at me, a sharp, unwelcome ache that intensified with every casual touch and shared smile between Asher and Isla. My stomach churned, a nauseous mix of guilt, longing, and the persistent, shameful thrum of arousal that Asher’s mere presence seemed to ignite.

“You know, I think I’m actually feeling a bit worse,” I mumbled, my voice barely audible, interrupting Liv mid-sentence about a particularly disastrous psychology experiment. I pushed my chair back slightly, the scraping sound against the linoleum momentarily drawing everyone’s attention. “Maybe I should go lie down for a bit.”

Julian’s brow furrowed with immediate concern. “Oh no, Cece, are you okay? You look really pale.” He was instantly on his feet, his hand reaching out to steady me as I stood, his touch so inherently kind and caring, a stark contrast to the raw possessiveness of Asher’s.

“Yeah, just… a headache coming on, I think,” I lied, the words feeling like ash in my mouth. “Probably just need some rest.”

“Let me walk you back to the dorm,” Julian offered, his grip gentle but firm on my arm.

“No, no, I’m okay,” I insisted, trying to sound reassuring. “Liv’s here. I’ll be fine.”

But Julian was already pulling out my backpack. “Nonsense. It’s no trouble. Come on.”

As Julian helped me from my chair, my gaze flickered across the table, and for a fleeting, unsettling moment, I met Asher’s eyes. His usual easygoing demeanor was gone, replaced by a concerned and questioning look, a silent inquiry that seemed to pierce through my flimsy facade. A knot tightened in my stomach, a confusing mix of guilt, fear of being discovered, and a strange, unwelcome pang of… longing? I quickly averted my gaze, focusing on Julian’s worried face.

“Thanks, Jules,” I murmured, allowing him to guide me away from the table.

Outside the bustling cafeteria, the relative quiet was a small relief. “Are you sure you’re alright, Cece?” Julian asked again, his hand still resting on my back, his concern palpable. “You’ve been acting a little… distant lately.”

“Yeah, honestly, just a bit overwhelmed with classes and everything,” I said, offering a weak smile. “I’ll be fine after a nap.”

He stopped walking, turning to face me, his brown eyes filled with a genuine warmth that made my guilt intensify. “You know, the guys and I have a really big game later today. It would mean a lot if you were there. You’re our good luck charm.”

The thought of spending the afternoon surrounded by both Julian and Asher, the forced normalcy of cheering on his team while battling the turmoil within me, felt daunting. But the pleading look on Julian’s face, the unwavering faith he had in me, made it impossible to refuse. “Okay, Jules,” I promised, forcing a brighter smile. “I’ll be there. Just need to rest up first.”