**Chapter 9: Cracks in the Facade**
Friday morning felt like walking on glass.
Ava woke in her own dorm bed for the first time in days—alone, sheets cold, the faint scent of Sebastian's cologne still clinging to her hair like a secret she couldn't wash out. She'd left his loft before dawn, slipping out while he slept, because staying longer would have meant facing the daylight version of what they'd done. The version where consequences had names and faces.
She checked her phone. No new texts from Liam. That silence felt louder than any accusation.
Mia was already in the communal kitchenette, making instant oatmeal and scrolling TikTok. She looked up when Ava shuffled in wearing yesterday's sweater.
"You look like someone who just survived a war zone," Mia said. "Coffee?"
"Gallons." Ava accepted the mug Mia pushed across the counter. Black. Strong. No frills.
Mia leaned against the fridge. "Liam cornered you after class yesterday. I saw him storming out of Hawthorne like he'd been gut-punched. Spill."
Ava stared into the coffee. "He saw me leave Sebastian's building the other morning. Put two and two together. Then in class I answered a question and Sebastian looked at me like… like we were the only two people in the room. Liam noticed."
Mia whistled low. "Shit. Did he confront you?"
"Yeah. Called it wrong. Said we'd regret it."
"And you said?"
"That it's real. That I'm not sorry." Ava set the mug down harder than she meant to. Coffee sloshed. "I sounded so sure. But now? In the daylight? I feel like I'm holding something fragile and everyone's about to start throwing rocks."
Mia reached over, squeezed her forearm. "You're allowed to feel both things at once. Brave and terrified. In love and guilty. It's not black-and-white."
"In love?" Ava's laugh came out shaky. "We've known each other—what, three weeks? Mostly naked?"
"Time doesn't measure depth. Chemistry does. And you two have enough chemistry to power a small city."
Ava rubbed her temples. "Liam's going to tell someone. His mom. My mom. The whole damn family."
"Then you beat him to it. Or you wait and see how far the fuse burns before it explodes."
"I hate waiting."
"I know. But rushing now means no control over the blast radius."
They finished breakfast in quiet solidarity. Ava had no classes until afternoon, so she buried herself in the library—third floor, back corner, headphones on, pretending to read *The Scarlet Letter* while actually rereading the same paragraph about hidden sin for forty minutes straight.
Her phone buzzed at 11:32 a.m.
**Unknown number:** Ava, this is Claire Hayes. Liam's mother. Sebastian's sister. We need to talk. Can you meet me at the campus café in thirty minutes?
Her stomach plummeted.
Claire Hayes—Liam's mom, the woman who'd hosted awkward family barbecues where Sebastian always sat at the far end of the table, polite but distant. The woman who'd once told Ava she was "exactly the kind of girl Liam needed—sweet, grounded."
Ava typed back with trembling fingers.
**Ava:** Yes. I'll be there.
She arrived early. The café smelled like espresso and cinnamon scones. Claire was already at a corner table—blonde hair pulled into a neat ponytail, navy blazer, coffee untouched. She looked exactly like an older, softer version of Liam: same hazel eyes, same easy smile that wasn't smiling now.
"Ava." Claire stood, gestured to the chair opposite. "Thank you for coming."
Ava sat. Hands clasped in her lap to hide the shake.
Claire didn't waste time. "Liam came home last night in tears. Said you and Sebastian are… involved. That it's been going on since your birthday. That you admitted it to his face yesterday."
Ava opened her mouth. Closed it. Nodded once.
Claire exhaled slowly. "I didn't want to believe it. Sebastian has always been careful. Private. The last person I'd expect to cross this kind of line."
"He didn't cross it alone," Ava said quietly. "I wanted it too."
Claire studied her—really looked. Not with anger. With something closer to sorrow.
"You're very young," she said. "Eighteen. First year of college. Everything feels urgent and forever right now. But Sebastian is thirty-seven. He's your professor. He's my brother. And he knows better."
"I know."
"Do you?" Claire leaned forward. "Because if this gets out—if anyone else finds out before you two end it—the fallout won't just be awkward family dinners. It'll be his career. Your reputation. Possible disciplinary action. Lawsuits. Headlines. You understand that, right?"
Ava's throat tightened. "Yes."
Claire reached across the table, covered Ava's hand with hers. The touch was gentle. Maternal. It made Ava's eyes sting.
"I'm not here to threaten you," Claire said. "I'm here to ask you—please—think about what you're risking. For both of you. Liam is devastated. He idolized his uncle. And I… I thought Sebastian was the one person in this family who never let impulse override judgment."
Ava swallowed hard. "I care about him. A lot."
"I believe you." Claire squeezed her hand once, then let go. "But caring isn't enough when the cost is this high. Talk to him. Really talk. Before this spreads any further."
Ava nodded. Tears pricked. She blinked them back.
Claire stood. "I won't tell anyone else. Not yet. But I can't promise Liam will stay quiet. He's hurt. Hurt people talk."
She left without another word, leaving her coffee cooling on the table.
Ava sat there for another twenty minutes, staring at the untouched latte foam collapsing into itself.
When she finally stood, her legs felt unsteady.
She walked straight to Hawthorne Hall.
Sebastian's office door was closed. She knocked anyway.
He opened it almost immediately. Saw her face. Pulled her inside without a word and locked the door.
The second it clicked shut, she was in his arms.
He held her tight, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other rubbing slow circles on her back.
"Claire found me," she whispered into his shirt. "Liam told her everything."
Sebastian tensed. Didn't let go. "I know. She texted me an hour ago. Said she was meeting you."
"She asked me to end it. Said we're risking too much."
He pulled back just enough to look at her. "And what did you say?"
"That I care about you. That I know the stakes." Ava searched his face. "But I didn't say I'd end it. Because I can't. Not yet."
Sebastian exhaled—long, ragged. "Neither can I."
He kissed her forehead. Then her temple. Then her mouth—soft, slow, like sealing a promise.
"We're not careful anymore," he murmured against her lips. "We're reckless. And it's going to hurt people."
"I know."
"But I'm not walking away unless you tell me to."
She framed his face with both hands. "Don't walk away."
He kissed her again—deeper this time. Hungrier. Like they were running out of time and trying to drink each other dry before the well went empty.
When they broke apart, both breathing hard, he rested his forehead against hers.
"Tonight," he said. "My place. We talk. Really talk. No distractions. No bodies first. We lay it all out—every risk, every fear, every reason we should stop. And then we decide."
Ava nodded. "Okay."
He brushed a tear from her cheek she hadn't realized had fallen. "Whatever we choose, we choose together."
She leaned into him one more time, listening to his heartbeat—fast, unsteady, alive.
The bell rang for the next class period.
They had to separate.
But the promise hung between them like smoke.
Tonight they'd decide.
And whatever came after—fire, fallout, or something stronger—they'd face it side by side.
For now, that was enough.
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