Chapter 8: Arlo’s POV – Lines You Don’t Cross

Chapter 8: Arlo’s POV – Lines You Don’t Cross

Arlo woke before the bells.

He didn’t usually. Not this early.

But sleep had been thin, restless—broken by fragments of yesterday that refused to settle. A voice. A pause. The way the air had felt too tight to breathe in.

Careful doesn’t mean correct.

He pushed the thought away the moment it surfaced.

There wasn’t time for that.

The corridors were still dim when he stepped out, sleeves already rolled, cloth tucked into his pocket. If he started early, he could finish more. If he finished more, there would be less reason for anyone to look too closely.

Less reason for him to look.

Arlo moved quickly down the hall, setting his pace before his thoughts could catch up.

Work first.

Always work first.

By the time the rest of the house began to stir, he had already finished the upper railings and moved on to the lower steps. His hands worked steadily, faster than usual, but not sloppy. Never sloppy.

He couldn’t afford mistakes.

Not now.

Not when everything mattered.

“Arlo.”

He didn’t flinch.

He almost did—but he caught it, forcing his movements to stay smooth as he wiped the last step and straightened.

“Yes?” he said, not turning immediately.

A pause.

Then, “You started early.”

Nikolai.

Of course.

Arlo turned then, slower than he felt, meeting his gaze just long enough to be respectful before lowering his eyes again.

“There was more to finish,” he said. “I thought it would be better to—”

“Finish it before anyone asked you to.”

Arlo nodded once. “Yes.”

Silence settled between them.

Heavy. Familiar now.

He stepped back, intending to move past him, but Nikolai didn’t shift.

Didn’t make room.

Arlo stopped short.

“I have the east corridor next,” he said carefully.

Nikolai tilted his head slightly. “Do you?”

Arlo hesitated. “Yes.”

A beat.

“Then go.”

He didn’t move.

Arlo waited a second longer, unsure if he was meant to pass or stay. The uncertainty pressed at him, tight and uncomfortable.

Then Nikolai stepped aside.

Just enough.

Arlo moved quickly, brushing past him without contact, though it felt closer than it should have. His shoulder nearly caught the edge of Nikolai’s sleeve.

He didn’t look back.

The east corridor was quieter, narrower. Easier to disappear in.

Arlo exhaled slowly as he set down his bucket, gripping the edge for a second longer than necessary.

Focus.

This was why he was here.

Not for whatever that was.

Not for the way his chest had tightened when Nikolai stood too close, or the way his voice lingered longer than it should.

This was temporary.

A summer.

Work, save, leave.

That was the plan.

He dipped the cloth into the water, wrung it out, and started on the windowsills.

One pass. Clean.

Second pass. Check.

No hesitation.

No mistakes.

“Arlo, you’re going to wear the place down at this rate.”

He glanced up.

It was Tomas—the same boy from yesterday, easy smile, easier voice. He leaned against the wall like nothing in this house could touch him.

Arlo forced a small smile back. “Better that than leave it dirty.”

Tomas laughed. “You’ve always been like this. One summer here and you’ll polish the whole estate into dust.”

“It pays,” Arlo said simply.

“That’s all you think about?”

“Yes.”

The answer came too quickly.

Tomas raised a brow. “That sounds miserable.”

“It’s necessary.”

There wasn’t anything else to say to that.

Tomas pushed off the wall, stepping closer. “You don’t have to look so tense all the time, you know. No one’s watching that closely.”

Arlo stilled.

For a second—just a second—he almost laughed.

No one?

He shook his head. “I’m fine.”

“Doesn’t look like it.”

“I said I’m fine.”

The edge in his voice surprised even him.

Tomas blinked, then held up his hands. “Alright. Didn’t mean anything by it.”

Arlo nodded, already turning back to the window, scrubbing harder than necessary.

Too hard.

“You’re needed in the south wing.”

The voice cut through the corridor.

Calm.

Measured.

Final.

Arlo didn’t turn immediately.

He didn’t need to.

Tomas did.

“Me?” he asked.

“Yes.”

A pause.

Then Tomas sighed lightly. “Alright. I’m going.”

His footsteps faded quickly.

Arlo stood there, cloth still pressed against the glass.

He counted to three before moving again.

One.

Two.

Three.

He turned.

Nikolai stood at the end of the corridor.

Watching.

Not hiding it.

Not pretending.

Just… there.

“I wasn’t finished here,” Arlo said, keeping his voice even.

“You were distracted.”

“I can manage both.”

“No,” Nikolai said. “You can’t.”

Arlo’s grip tightened around the cloth.

“I didn’t ask for help.”

“I didn’t offer it.”

That stopped him.

Nikolai stepped closer.

Not rushed.

Not hesitant.

Deliberate.

“You’re rushing again,” he said.

“I’m working.”

“You’re avoiding.”

Arlo frowned. “Avoiding what?”

Nikolai didn’t answer immediately.

He didn’t need to.

Arlo looked away first.

“I have work to do,” he said.

“So do I.”

“Then why are you here?”

The question slipped out before he could stop it.

Silence.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Then—

“Because you’re here.”

Simple.

Direct.

Unavoidable.

Arlo’s chest tightened.

“That’s not a reason.”

“It is.”

“No,” Arlo said, sharper now. “It’s not.”

Nikolai watched him, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.

“Then give me a better one.”

“I don’t need to.”

“You do if you want me to leave.”

That landed.

Harder than anything else.

Arlo exhaled slowly, forcing his hands to steady.

“This isn’t… appropriate.”

The word felt strange in his mouth.

Nikolai didn’t react.

“Appropriate,” he repeated.

“Yes.”

“For who?”

“For me.”

“Why?”

Because I need this job.

Because I need to leave.

Because if anyone sees this—

“Because it is,” Arlo said instead.

Nikolai stepped closer again.

Too close.

“You’re careful,” he said.

Arlo’s breath caught.

“Too careful.”

“That’s not a fault.”

“It is when it stops you from seeing what’s in front of you.”

Arlo looked up.

“Which is?”

A pause.

Long enough to feel intentional.

“Nothing,” Nikolai said.

Then he stepped back.

Just like that.

The space between them returned.

But it didn’t feel the same.

“Finish your work,” Nikolai added.

And then he left.

Arlo stood there for a long moment after.

The cloth in his hand had gone cold.

The window half-cleaned.

The air still heavy with something he couldn’t name.

---

This is dangerous.

The thought came clearer this time.

Stronger.

Not fear.

Not confusion.

Recognition.

He picked up the cloth again.

Finished the window.

Moved to the next.

Faster now.

More precise.

More controlled.

But it didn’t matter.

Because for the first time—

He wasn’t just trying to avoid Nikolai.

He was trying not to think about him.

And failing.