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CHAPTER THIRTY- TWO: TOO LATE
publish date:
2026-04-24 18:47:58
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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 THIRTY- TWO: TOO LATE
(Olandria’s POV) Dinner was loud like everyone had brought something back with them from the climb and didn’t know where else to put it except into conversation. Laughter came easier and complaints sounded less serious. Even the tiredness felt shared. Karl sat across from me, already halfway through her food, talking like she hadn’t spent the entire morning threatening to quit life. “I’m telling you,” she said, pointing her fork at me, “if I had died on that mountain, I would’ve haunted all of you. Specifically you.” “I didn’t force you to climb it,” I said. “You encouraged it,” she shot back. “Same thing.” I shook my head, pushing my food around my plate more than actually eating it. She noticed immediately. “You’re thinking,” she said. “I’m eating.” “You’re thinking while eating,” she corrected, narrowing her eyes. “Which
BLURRED LINES THIRTY ONE: THE CLIMB (II)
(Olandria’s POV) Pain shot up my ankle as I landed, sharp and sudden enough to pull a sound out of me before I could stop it. I froze where I was. The group heard my scream and slowed. “Olandria?” Karl yelled, rushing closer to me. “Are you okay?” “I’m fine,” I said automatically. I wasn’t. I pushed myself up anyway, testing my weight. The moment I did, the pain flared again, quick and undeniable. My breath hitched before I could hide it, Karl caught me just in time. Mrs. Toria moved immediately towards me. “That’s enough,” she said, voice calm but firm. “We’ll stop here.” “No!” The word cut through the air before I even realized who said it. Lydia. She stepped forward, arms crossed, with her expression sharp in a way that she didn’t bother hiding itself this time. “We can’t just stop the entire walk because someone wasn’t watching where they were going,” she said, glaring at me. “That defeats the whole point.” A few people no
BLURRED LINES CHAPTER THIRTY: THE CLIMB (I)
(Olandria’s POV) As always, the morning felt different before it even started, like something had already been decided, and the rest of us were just catching up to it. It was 6:00 a.m., and everyone was already in climbing gear, hydration packs strapped on, snacks packed and ready. “Why are we awake this early?” Karl muttered beside me, dragging her feet as we followed the group toward the trail entrance. “This feels illegal.” “It’s not even that early,” I said, adjusting the strap of my bag. “It is if I didn’t consent to it.” she said, yawning dramatically while rubbing her eyes. “You signed up for this workshop.” “I signed up for art,” she corrected. “Not… physical suffering.” I shook my head in amusement and looked ahead. The path curved upward, uneven and narrow, lined with scattered stones and thick bush. Beyond it, the slope rose gradually into something that looked less like a “walk” and more like a decision I wasn’t entirely sure I agreed with. “…It’s not that
BLURRED LINES CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE: WHAT SLIPS
(Olandria’s POV) By the time I got back to my room, the day hadn’t quite settled, I felt slightly off-balance. I pushed the door open, stepping inside, already halfway through untying the knot at the back of my apron before I noticed Ernest’s presence. He sat on the edge of his bed, one leg stretched out, the other bent, a camera resting loosely in his hands. He glanced up when I entered, his gaze settling on me for a second longer than necessary. “…Green.” I blinked. “What?” He gestured vaguely toward me. “You look like you fought a tree and lost.” I looked down at myself. Paint everywhere. “…It was a controlled loss,” I said, dropping my bag. He hummed, unconvinced. “Doesn’t look controlled.” I shot him a look, moving toward the sink. “You didn’t see the other people.” “I don’t need to,” he said easily. “You’re the reference point now.” I paused for a second, then shook my head slightly, turning on the tap. Water rushed over my fingers, washing away the last of the
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
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 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 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
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