Blurry lines

Blurry lines

(Fiona’s POV)

My phone buzzed insistently on the bedside table, pulling me out of my sleep as I scratched my eyes to the bright light leaking through the curtains. I groaned softly and reached for my phone, blinking against the screen light filtering through the phone. It was a message from Paris, at an oddly early hour.

“I’m outside Jalen’s house, Fi—come out. We need to talk,” my heart skipped. She sounded so hasty and I was curious to know what happened.

I sat up instantly as sleep dissolved into my skin. Paris wasn’t the type to show up unannounced unless something truly mattered. I glanced at the time—it was barely past eight and the house was still quiet, so I thought

I rushed to the bathroom, splashed water on my face, and changed into a simple short blue dress and sandals. I brushed my hair to the back before pacing out of the room. I didn’t even stop to think if Jalen or Marian were awake.

I slipped out of the house quietly, closing the door behind me.

Paris stood near the gate, arms folded tightly around herself. But when she saw me, her face crumpled—and before I could say anything, she rushed forward and wrapped me in a tight hug.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out against my shoulder. “I’m so, so sorry,” she added, finally pulling me off.

“I should have listened to you, I should have believed you about Jude,” her face twisted in a frown, as if she were about to cry, but she was just sober.

“It’s okay, Paris,” I whispered, though my voice trembled. “Let’s talk.”

We sauntered toward the nearby park, taking in the cool breeze as it brushed through my skin. Soon, we arrived at the park and it was nearly empty—just a few joggers and birds perched on benches. Paris sat down first, her fingers twisting together.

“I handled everything wrong,” she said, staring at the ground. “I didn’t listen to you. I chose my feelings over your safety and somehow, it affected me too.”

I slouched beside her. “Paris—”

“No, let me finish,” she cut quickly. “Jude… he admitted things to me. Not everything, but enough.” She swallowed. “I believe you now.”

Something in me finally broke open, and I couldn't explain it but I became chatty all of a sudden and opened up to her.

“I want to tell you something, Paris,” I breathe. “Jalen and I… um, I'm confused because I’m not sure if we’re together but I love him and I think he wants the same,” I could feel Paris’s eyes widen before responding.

“Are you sure about this?” she murmured, her face carried the weight of concern. “What about Marian?” she added.

“Jalen always takes care of her, and he promised to protect me,” I concluded. But deep down, I wasn't convinced. Silence stole the spotlight between us for a minute before I continued.

“And I think Jude is also suspicious of it, he threatened to expose me to the school.”

Paris glanced at me in silence, her face pale.

“He threatened to expose you?” she whispered. “That’s sick.” she snapped.

“I didn’t know who to trust anymore,” I admitted. “I felt trapped.”

Paris took my hands. “You should have come to me sooner. But I promise you—I’m on your side now. I’ll handle Jude. He won’t come near you again.”

I sighed deeply as relief washed over me so strongly that I almost cried.

“Thank you,” I breathed and a faint smile curved up my face.

She squeezed my fingers, smiling back at me. “And Fiona… whatever is going on with Jalen—it’s dangerous. But I'm not judging you; I just want you to be careful—Marian could tell your parents, and you could be blacklisted from all art schools. But don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”

“I understand, I promise I'll be more careful—I'm sorry babes, I shouldn't be saying this but I can't help it, Jude is not good for you”

“I know…” she cut in, dragging her last word. “Enough about Jude right now, I'm gonna talk to him, he won't dare to expose you,” she concluded, and I nodded responsively.

We stayed a while longer, talking softly, rebuilding all the time we've lost. When we finally parted, my heart felt lighter than it had in days.

I walked home slowly, rehearsing what I’d say if Jalen asked where I’d been.

But when I opened the door—

I froze.

Jordan stood by the kitchen island. Shirtless.

His jacket lay tossed over a chair. Tattoos ran across his wide shoulder and down his arm. Sunlight from the window cut across his bare chest, accentuating his muscles and sharp angles. He looked relaxed and so fucking cute.

For a split second, my breath caught.

I hated that my body reacted before my mind did.

Jordan noticed before I realized it and his lips curved slowly. “Morning, beautiful.”

I swallowed and forced my eyes away. “Where’s Jalen?”

“Out,” he replied smoothly. “Didn’t say where,” he added. Stealing glances as I shut the door behind me.

Something in his tone made my skin prickle but I tried to stay calm as he walked toward me.

“He searched for you, where have you been?” he asked, his face dark and cold like he was about to scold his little sister.

I stepped back instinctively, but he moved forward—slow, deliberate, and creepy that I could feel the air on my skin stand. But before I could defend myself, he suddenly switched.

“You look different today, you must have had a good time with your date, ” he said.

“That’s none of your business,” I said firmly.

He chuckled. “Everything interesting becomes my business damsel.”

I tried to sidestep him, but he leaned closer, lowering his voice as he cupped my face with his soft hand, his gaze lingering dangerously on me.

“You know,” he murmured, “I can tell when a damsel is lying and you are.”

“I'm not,” I snapped.

But his unreadable gaze lingered.

He lifted a hand—not touching me, but close enough that I felt trapped against the wall behind me, and my knee grew weak. I should have excused myself but I felt drawn to him as I enjoyed the moment.

“Then tell me where you went, if you ain't lying,” he insisted.

My heart pounded. Before I could respond—

The front door opened and a familiar voice bolted in.

“Fiona?” Jalen’s voice cut in sharply and we both jolted. Jordan stepped back instantly, amusement flashing across his face as Jalen entered the room.

Jalen took one look at the distance between us—and his expression darkened.

“What the hell is going on here?” he demanded. I stuttered, trying to get my words out but Jordan answered.

“We’re just talking.”

Jalen’s eyes burned as they flicked between us.

“Fiona,” he said, his voice tight. “Are you okay?”

I nodded, though my hands trembled.

“Yes,” I answered.

“Stay the fuck away from her.” Jason snapped, and Jordan laughed softly, he grabbed his jacket nonchalantly, and walked off without another word.

Jalen turned to me immediately.

“Did he touch you?”

“No, I'm okay,” I said quickly, but I didn't want it to stop.

His jaw clenched.

“I warned you about him,” he said quietly, and I shrugged. “You look all dressed up.”

“Yeah, I met Paris at the park,” I said softly, but my eyes never left his, I paused as his gaze intensified making my stomach flutter. I leaned closer and caught his lips in a sharp kiss. He groaned and tightened his grip around my waist.

“You were supposed to show me the room,” I whispered between his lips.

“Are you sure you want to see it?”

“Yes.”

“Can you handle whatever you see in there?”

“I believe so,”

“Hmm…” he groaned and carried me swiftly to his shoulder, like I was a paper, and landed a smack on my ass.

“We’ll see about that.”