The next few days, Tasha couldn't help but think differently about Liam. His email, with its clear, smart feedback, kept replaying in her mind. He was still annoying, but there was no denying he was good at what he did.
She saw him in Psychology class. This time, he was already there, in his usual seat. Tasha found herself looking for the empty seat next to him, then quickly looked away, picking a row further back. She still didn't want to sit right next to him. But she did notice him more. She noticed how he sometimes tapped his pen thoughtfully, or how he would nod slightly when Dr. Evans made a good point.
That afternoon, Tasha was walking back to her dorm when she saw Liam outside the music building again. He was sitting on the same stone bench, this time holding a notebook, not his guitar. He was sketching something, his brow furrowed in concentration.
Tasha stopped behind a tree, hidden, just like before. She watched him. He looked completely absorbed in his drawing. He wasn't arrogant or rude. He just looked... focused. And intense. She remembered the beautiful, sad music he played. It was such a strange contrast to the Liam she usually met.
She also remembered his words: "Life's too short to pretend." Did he feel like he was pretending when he was being rude? Was the quiet, artistic side his true self? The idea felt both silly and strangely interesting.
Suddenly, a small, black cat, one of the campus strays, walked up to Liam. It rubbed against his leg, purring. Tasha expected Liam to kick it away or ignore it. Instead, he reached down slowly and gently scratched the cat behind its ears. The cat leaned into his hand, clearly enjoying it. Liam's lips curved into a tiny, soft smile – a genuine, gentle smile Tasha had never seen on his face before.
Tasha's breath hitched. He had a soft spot for cats? The arrogant, cold Liam Carter? It was completely unexpected. She felt a strange warmth spread through her chest, quickly followed by a rush of confusion. This was too much.
Liam stood up, still gently petting the cat with one hand, and stretched. He then looked around, his eyes sweeping over the trees. Tasha ducked back, knowing he had a knack for spotting her.
When she peeked out again, Liam was walking away, the cat following him for a few steps before turning back.
Tasha stayed hidden for a moment, her mind reeling. The guitar, the calm look, the soft smile for a cat. Every new observation chipped away at the "rude jerk" image she had built for Liam. It was unsettling. She didn't want to like him, not even a little bit. She didn't want to be curious about him. But she was. And that was the most annoying thing of all.