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CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN: YEARNING
publish date:
2026-05-08 05:27:06
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BLURRED LINES CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT: THE KISS
The room was empty when I entered. That somehow, that disappointed me immediately. I frowned at myself. The rain had started properly now, soft droplets tapping against the windows and balcony doors in uneven rhythms. The room smelled faintly like detergent and Ernest’s cologne still lingering in the air somehow. That didn’t help either. I paced once. Then twice. Then dramatically threw myself onto my bed face-first. “This is ridiculous,” I muttered into the pillow. Because Karl was wrong. Probably. Maybe. I groaned loudly. Every single thing about Ernest had become complicated. The way he looked at me too carefully sometimes. The way he noticed things. The way his voice softened around me. The way my chest reacted every single time he got too close. It was annoying and confusing. And worse…I liked it. That realization sat there heavily while rain tapped harder against the glass. I sat up immediately. “Nope.” Thunder cracked louder this time. The balcony doors rattled
BLURRED LINES CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN: YEARNING
(Olandria’s POV) By the time supper ended, the sky outside had turned the color of charcoal. The workshop dining hall slowly emptied around us, voices fading into smaller conversations as people drifted toward their rooms, studios, or wherever they disappeared to when the day was finally done. Plates clinked softly against trays. People laughed too loudly near the far corner, as the rain threatened through the windows, the clouds hanging low enough to swallow the mountain view whole. Karl stretched beside me dramatically. “If I eat one more bread roll in this place, I’m going to become one.” “You say that every night.” “And every night I mean it.” I snorted quietly despite myself, stacking my tray on top of hers before standing. My body still felt heavy from earlier by the river; not physically, but emotionally. Like crying had wrung something out of me I hadn’t realized I’d been carrying. Karl noticed anyw
BLURRED LINES CHAPTER THIRTY - SIX: SHE PAINTS HIM.
(Olandria’s POV) Classes ended earlier than usual, but no one really left. The instructors had said it, ‘use the time to build something for your final project,’ and somehow, that had made everything feel heavier. Karl found me before I could disappear. “You’re coming with me,” she said, grabbing my wrist before I could argue. “I didn’t agree to anything,” I muttered, but I didn’t pull away. “You don’t have to,” she replied easily. “I already decided.” That should’ve annoyed me, but it didn’t. Maybe because thinking too much and being alone today felt like a bad idea. She gathered my equipment for painting, and carried my bag and followed her out. — We've never used the path behind the workshop since our arrival. I was excited to see what was hidden behind the trees and narrow path. It curved past the last building, down a narrow slope lined with overgrown grass and uneven stones, unti
BLURRED LINES CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE: NO TRUST FUND
(Ernest’s POV) Sleep didn’t come easily. It was the first time I’d been alone in a room. I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling, one arm folded under my head, the other resting over my chest like I was trying to keep something in place. The room was dim, shadows stretching across the walls in uneven shapes. Every now and then, headlights from outside slipped through the curtains and dragged light across the ceiling, then disappeared again. I should’ve been tired from the climb. But my body didn’t get the memo. My mind kept replaying it. The way Olandria fell. The way she said “I’m fine,” when she clearly wasn’t. The way she walked away from me like I was part of the problem. I exhaled slowly, dragging a hand over my face. “…Great.” I turned onto my side, then onto my back again. The sheets felt too warm, too wrong, like they didn’t belong to me. And then, like it always did, my brain circled back to her. Olandria. The art room, the
BLURRED LINES CHAPTER THIRTY- FOUR: DO I LIKE HIM?
(Olandria’s POV) I didn’t stop at my door. I slowed when I got there, my hand hovering just inches from the handle, but something in my chest tightened; sharp and immediate, like a warning I didn’t understand but still obeyed. The hallway felt too quiet, like if I stepped inside that room, everything from the last hour would follow me in and sit there, waiting. I dropped my hand, turned and kept walking. My ankle protested almost immediately, a dull, persistent ache that flared sharper when I misstepped, but I didn’t slow down. If anything, I walked faster, like movement alone could outrun whatever was building in my chest. It didn’t. Karl’s door came into view, slightly ajar at the top, a strip of warm light cutting into the hallway. I knocked once. The door swung open almost instantly. Karl blinked at me, mid-bite of something I couldn’t identify. “…That was aggressive.” I stepped inside without answering. The shift in air hit me immediatel
BLURRED LINES CHAPTER THIRTY- THREE : THE PECK
(Ernest’s POV) Since I came to this workshop, I’d spent most of it behind a lens. Probably the longest stretch I’d ever gone without putting the camera down, and I didn’t mind it, because through the camera, things made sense again. A flicker of something unguarded before it disappeared. That was the part I liked, the part no one else seemed to notice. But even that hasn't been enough lately. Because the moment I lowered the camera, everything went back to being… complicated. Except… I glanced sideways. Olandria, walking beside me. She was focused on the path ahead like she was always measuring something no one else could see. With her, things didn’t blur. They didn’t stretch or distort to be more than they were. Something about her didn’t stay contained. It didn’t blur, didn’t soften into something I could ignore. It just… stayed, and I didn’t hate that. Only if she would be less guarded around me. “…You’re limping.” She didn’t look at me. “I’m walkin
BLURRED LINES CHAPTER ELEVEN: UNFINISHED BUSINESS
“I said I’m looking for Malcolm Ernest,” the girl repeated, her tone smooth but firmer this time. “I heard you,” I replied, my hand still resting on the door, blocking just enough space to make it clear she wasn’t walking in uninvited. A flicker of amusement cros
BLURRED LINES CHAPTER EIGHT: MESSAGES
(Ernest’s POV) Saturday afternoons were supposed to be quiet and predictable which is why I liked them. No drills. No whistles. No bodies slamming into mine at full speed. Just space to think, cook, game and enjoy beautiful sceneries through my camera lens. The kitchen smelled faintly of onions
BLURRED LINES CHAPTER NINE: DEPARTURE
The morning came too fast, like it had something to prove. I woke up before my alarm, which was already irritating enough. For a second, I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, trying to remember what had dragged me out of sleep so early and then it hit. Workshop.
BLURRED LINES CHAPTER FIFTEEN: AFTER THE SPILL
(Olandria’s POV) The hallway noise faded the second the door shut behind us, though not completely. Just… dulled; like everything outside had been pushed a few feet away, leaving the room quieter, softer. I didn’t real
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