Running Out of Time

Chapter Six

After that night, Lia seemed to be a little warmer to me, even though she seemed to completely lock away that almost childish personality of herself during the day. She gave me waves in the hallway in passing, and occasionally graced the world with a small smile. I found myself longing for the warm caress of her kindness with a startling intensity, and what I longed for even more was for her mere presence in the studio, for even though I had a countdown on my laptop of the days until I could return back home for a few days before the school year started, I realized suddenly that I wished for the days to slow, to give me more time. I wished selfishly that I could have both my school friends and Lia, but time continued its unforgiving march onwards, and the waxing and waning of one lunar cycle was completed.

I must've been very obvious, for once when Lia was not in class, I asked around and received quite strange looks accompanying their answers that she was sick. That evening, I paced around in my cramped dorm room while Aubrey was downstairs at dinner and worried myself sick, eventually resolving that I must brace myself for Lia's eventual departure from my life and her guaranteed unreciprocating of my feelings. But yet, I couldn't help but to foolishly hope whenever she smiled to me of her own accord, when she greeted me and laughed with me in classes and duet rehearsals and during meals. Even the day when Lia returned from her bout of illness and I had promised myself not to enamor myself with her so much, I fell prey to her endless charms and beauty.

Sometimes, I wished I hated her instead. Anything would've been better than my languishing existence, watching her laugh and grant her grace to people other than me from a distance. For a while, I had thought it was merely a passing interest because she reminded me of Kimberly, which was why I spent so long staring at her features as we waited in the hallway for the studio to open up, trying to pinpoint what exactly it was that made this infatuation so strong and so lasting.

"Is there something on my face?" She asked curiously when she met my gaze, pausing.

My eyes widened at being caught. I felt a pink tint begin to rise to my cheeks. "No, I was just... uh, distracted."

She tilted her head to the side, a little skeptical. My cheeks flamed, giving myself away.

I grappled for something that would sound the least creepy. "I was just... looking at your hair." I fumbled, stuttering.

"Oh." She looked a little bewildered. I reached out on impulse and smoothed back a lock of hair, fighting an urge to run my fingers through her hair and feel if it was indeed as silky and smooth as it looked.

Her brows furrowed as she stared at me wordlessly, her mouth set in a straight, terse line. From her expression, I recoiled and took my hand back, feeling that sense of hope shrivel inside of me. I had fallen prey once more.

"Sorry." I mumbled, casting my gaze to the door past her shoulder, looking anywhere but her eyes. "It just... reminded me of someone else's hair."

Kimberly and Lia had had the same natural streaks of a lighter auburn color running through their hair. When I looked closer, although Kimberly and Lia did share some features, like the shape of their body and their hair color, otherwise, they were kind of different. Kimberly was quieter and more subdued than Lia was, an embodiment of the nerd stereotype, whereas Lia was more outgoing, or at least, in the version that I saw under the daylight.

Perhaps Lia saw through that statement before I did and realized that it was a poor attempt to make her jealous. Whether she knew at that moment or not, she merely pursed her lips, turned back to the studio, and continued waiting.

After that moment, her demeanor froze for the rest of the week and any signs of that night version was cleared away in favor for a crisp, cool, and impersonally efficient personality. Her blatant shutting me out struck me at some personal level I had not known I possessed, and caused me to go to bed that day with a sag to my shoulders. Perhaps I was just not good enough. Maybe that was it.