Lovers and Liars

Chapter 7: The Lover

I woke up to the sound of my alarm blaring, each shrill beep piercing through my skull like a knife. I groaned, reaching blindly for my phone on the bedside table, silencing the noise with a tap. My head throbbed, each pulse sending a wave of discomfort behind my eyes. I lay still, trying to gather the energy to open my eyes, to face the day, but my body felt like it was weighed down by lead. I squeezed my eyes shut, the events of the night before slipping into my mind like fragments of a dream.

Daniel. His name was the first coherent thought that surfaced, cutting through the fog in my brain. The way he had looked at me, the sound of his voice murmuring in my ear, the feeling of his arms around me as we danced. And then, the kiss. My heart gave a little flutter at the memory, warmth spreading through my chest. It was the kind of kiss that stays with you, even in sleep, lingering like a sweet aftertaste. It had been everything I had hoped for and more—soft, tender, with an edge of intensity that made my knees weak. I could still feel his lips on mine, but I could still taste the faint hint of something sweet.

I rolled onto my back, staring up at the ceiling. My mind replayed the kiss, over and over, like a favourite song on repeat. But as I replayed it, another memory edged its way in—Daniel pulling back, the look on his face as he said he needed to get a drink. And then he was gone, swallowed up by the crowd, leaving me standing there alone. The warmth in my chest cooled a little, replaced by a flicker of uncertainty. Why had he left so suddenly? Had I done something wrong?

I forced myself out of bed, wincing as a wave of dizziness washed over me. My legs felt unsteady, as if I had been running for miles, though I couldn't remember why I was so exhausted. I made my way to the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face, trying to shake off the sluggishness. The reflection staring back at me in the mirror looked pale, dark circles shadowing my eyes. I frowned, brushing my hair back with my fingers. Today would be better. I would find him, talk to him, and everything would be okay. The kiss had meant something. It had to.

I dressed quickly, pulling on a comfortable outfit, something easy to move in. As I slipped into my shoes, I tried to push the doubts away. Maybe he was just overwhelmed by the party. Maybe he needed time to process what had happened. I could understand that. I would give him the time he needed, but I couldn’t wait forever. I needed to see him to know that what I felt wasn’t just a figment of my imagination.

The walk to campus felt longer than usual, each step echoing the anxious rhythm of my heartbeat. My eyes scanned every passing face, searching for his familiar figure. But as I wandered through the courtyard, peeking into lecture halls and making my way through the crowded cafeteria, there was no sign of him. I bit my lip, the knot in my stomach tightening with each minute that ticked by. Where could he be?

I tried to remember his schedule, piecing together bits of conversations, things he had mentioned in passing. He liked the library, I remembered that. He had once told me it was the only place he could get any real work done. I made my way there, pushing open the heavy glass doors, the smell of old books, and quiet study filling the air. The library was full, and students hunched over laptops and textbooks, but there was no sign of him.

The hours blurred together as I wandered the campus. I found myself at the student centre, glancing into the small café where we sometimes met for coffee, my eyes searching the tables. Each empty chair felt like a small rejection. My chest tightened with worry. What if he was avoiding me? What if the kiss hadn’t meant as much to him as it did to me? The thought was like a sharp stone lodged in my heart, making it hard to breathe.

I found a bench near the edge of the lawn and sat down, resting my head in my hands. My fingers traced the outline of my lips, the memory of the kiss still so vivid. I wanted to believe that it was real, that it was the start of something beautiful. But the longer I sat there, the more doubts crept in, whispering that maybe I had read too much into it, that maybe I was just another girl at a party, lost in a moment of fantasy.

I pulled out my phone, hoping for a message, a missed call, anything. The screen was blank, mocking me with its silence. I opened my social media apps, scrolling through photos and posts, looking for some distractions, some way to pass the time. My thumb stopped when a familiar background caught my eye—a picture from the party, tagged by someone I vaguely knew. My heart skipped a beat, and I clicked on it, the image expanding to fill the screen.

It was a blurry shot, figures moving in the background, but I could make out the room, the soft lighting, the haze of excitement in the air. I looked closer, trying to find some clue, some sign of Daniel, something that would make sense of this aching uncertainty. And then my eyes landed on a corner of the photo, a figure that was all too familiar.

I froze, my breath catching in my throat. My fingers tightened around the phone, my eyes fixed on the screen. The rest of the world fell away, and there was only this, only what I was seeing. My pulse raced, each beat echoing the growing dread that filled my chest.

I wanted to look away and wanted to unsee what I had just seen, but I couldn’t. My heart pounded as the truth clawed its way into my mind, demanding to be acknowledged. I sat there, the noise of campus life fading into the background, my world narrowing to this moment, to this screen, to the feeling that everything was about to change.