18: A Flicker of Possession Part 02
The conversation shifted after that, the initial tension easing into a more friendly banter.
“And then,” Isla giggled, her hand still firmly planted on Asher’s thigh, her fingers occasionally flexing against the denim, a casual possessiveness that twisted something sharp in my gut, “Professor Albright said my clay pot looked less like a vase and more like a… well, let’s just say a very lopsided toad. Apparently, it had a certain ‘organic asymmetry’ that wasn’t entirely intentional.”
Julian chuckled, his arm a familiar, yet now unwelcome, weight around my shoulders, his fingers idly playing with the collar of my shirt. “Speaking of lopsided, Ash, did you see that shot you took during the scrimmage yesterday? Looked like you were aiming for the moon. Pretty sure it’s still orbiting somewhere up there.” He playfully ruffled Asher’s hair, his easy camaraderie a stark contrast to the guilt twisting in my gut.
Asher rolled his eyes good-naturedly, a wry smile playing on his lips as he subtly shifted, perhaps to dislodge Isla’s hand for a moment, though it quickly returned. “Hey, I was trying a new technique! Clearly still needs some… refinement. Maybe I should take some pottery lessons from Isla. Learn how to aim for something other than celestial bodies.”
Liv chimed in, her usual bright tone cutting through the lingering tension. “More like a complete overhaul, if you ask me. You almost took out that poor pigeon, minding its own business by the goalpost. I swear, it gave you the dirtiest look before it finally flew off. Like, ‘Seriously, dude?’”
I forced a laugh, trying to sound genuinely amused, the sound feeling brittle and strained even to my own ears. Julian squeezed my shoulder. “You okay, love? You’re a bit quiet.”
“Just… still thinking about those stats,” I lied easily, the words slipping out with practiced ease. “My brain’s a bit fried after the lab.”
“Tell me about it,” Julian commiserated, his fingers now gently massaging the back of my neck, a touch that used to soothe me but now felt… generic. “Davies can be a real head-scratcher sometimes. But hey, at least we got through it, right?” He leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to my temple, a casual affection that felt miles away from the raw, forbidden intimacy I now craved.
However, the subtle undercurrent of tension remained, a silent acknowledgment of the awkward moment with Asher and the lingering unease about Professor Davies. Isla’s hand on Asher’s thigh was a constant, visceral reminder of what I couldn’t have, the casual intimacy a sharp pang in my core. Julian’s arm around me, meant to be comforting, now felt like a suffocating shackle, a constant reminder of the lie I was living and the heavy burden of my betrayal. And beneath it all, the persistent thrum of my secret desire for Asher, a dangerous, forbidden longing, threatened to drown out the forced smiles and polite laughter.
Finally, Asher checked the time on his phone, the movement catching my eye. “We should probably get going, Cece, if we want to make any progress on that research project.”
Julian stood, pulling me up with him, his hands lingering on my waist for a moment longer than necessary, his gaze soft and affectionate. “Later, beautiful,” he murmured, his thumb tracing a gentle circle on my hipbone, a familiar caress that now felt strangely distant, a ghost of the passion I no longer felt for him. He leaned in, his lips brushing against mine with a tenderness that used to make my heart flutter, a lingering pressure that now felt merely polite, a chaste peck compared to the possessive claiming of Asher’s mouth. “See you tonight? Maybe we can finally watch that movie we’ve been talking about.”
“Yeah, definitely,” I replied, the words feeling hollow even to my own ears. His kiss was gentle, a sweet caress that held none of the urgent, possessive claiming I had tasted in Asher’s forbidden embrace, a chaste farewell that left me strangely cold. As Julian pulled back, his hand trailing down my arm, his eyes met Asher’s briefly, and a friendly nod was exchanged.
In that fleeting moment, I caught Asher’s reaction in the periphery of my vision. For a fleeting, unguarded moment, the carefully constructed ease he wore like a second skin crumbled. His jaw clenched so tightly a muscle ticked visibly in his cheek, the rigid line of his mouth betraying a fierce, almost violent restraint. And then his eyes – they blazed with a raw, possessive hunger that mirrored the constant ache within me, a silent, desperate echo of the stolen intimacy that haunted my waking hours and the deeper intimacy I knew he craved with a ferocity that both terrified and thrilled me. The intensity of that single, unguarded look pierced through my carefully constructed indifference towards Julian's tender goodbye, a stark reminder of the forbidden fire that still burned between Asher and me, a fire that Julian’s gentle affection could never ignite.
“Don’t work too hard,” Isla called out cheerfully to Asher, her hand still resting possessively on his thigh.
Asher quickly shuttered his expression, the carefree mask snapping back into place as if it had never slipped. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied, his tone light, though his gaze flickered back to me for a split second, a silent message passing between us before he turned his attention to Isla.
The brief intensity, however, didn’t go unnoticed. A confusing mix of guilt and a secret, illicit thrill at his undisguised longing stirred within me, a dangerous spark threatening to ignite into a full flame. As we walked away from the picnic table, the comfortable distance that now existed between Asher and me felt charged with an unspoken energy, a palpable tension that vibrated beneath the surface of our casual farewells to our oblivious partners. The weight of our shared secret hung heavy in the sun-drenched air, a silent acknowledgment of the precarious path we were treading, a path paved with stolen touches and forbidden desires, a path that felt increasingly dangerous yet utterly, irrevocably compelling.