The corridor outside the studio was unusually quiet for a Thursday, save for the clack of Maya's boots against the tiled floor. A low, golden light filtered in from the high arched windows of the east wing, throwing long, soft shadows along the walls. She shifted the tote bag on her shoulder, the sharp edge of a folded tri-fold board nudging against her ribs. Booth materials. Again.
She found Damien inside already, as always, elbow-deep in adjusting one of the display panels for their upcoming pop-up. He didn't look up at her entrance, only motioned wordlessly for her to hand him the extra strip of velcro.
"This thing keeps slouching," he muttered. "Probably cursed."
Maya cracked the smallest smile. "You always think inanimate objects have it out for you."
Damien didn't respond right away, just fixed the strip in place with careful precision, his sleeves shoved up to his elbows. "That's because they usually do."
The tension that had clung between them for days now had morphed into something else -- something easier. There was still distance, sure. But it wasn't the sharp, defensive kind that once marked their earliest interactions. It was the soft, careful space of people still deciding what parts of themselves they were ready to show.
Maya leaned against the table beside him, dragging her fingers across the edge of the panel. "So… everything's almost ready?"
He nodded. "Almost. Just need to finalize the placement map with the others." He looked at her briefly then, just long enough for her to catch a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. "You sure you're still good doing this?"
Maya didn't flinch. "I wouldn't be here if I wasn't."
Silence stretched between them again, not uncomfortable, just thoughtful. She turned to adjust a tiny stack of flyers, anything to keep her hands busy. Outside the door, muffled footsteps passed and faded.
Damien was the first to speak. "He was there again this morning."
Maya froze. Just for a moment. "I noticed."
He didn't need to say the name. Logan had made himself hard to ignore.
It had started subtly -- crossing her path on the way to class, standing too long at the edge of the quad, pretending to check his phone whenever she passed. But there was no mistaking it anymore. He was watching her.
"Do you want me to say something?" Damien asked, quieter now.
Maya shook her head. "No. It's just... weird, you know? Like I'm being haunted by someone who chose to vanish."
Damien watched her for a beat longer. "He's the one who lost the right to know you."
There was a pause between them again -- one thick with the weight of unspoken things.
Then the door opened behind them.
Tessa walked in, her braids looped into a messy crown and her voice clipped. "Some of the others bailed on printing shifts. We'll need to pick up the slack tomorrow."
"Got it," Maya replied, not missing the glance Tessa tossed at Damien before she dropped a USB into Maya's palm and walked back out again. There'd been more and more of that lately -- people watching her differently. Not just because of the kiss with Damien weeks ago, but because something had shifted in her entirely. They could feel it.
But the one person whose gaze still burned was Logan.
Later that day, when Maya exited the student center with Damien beside her, she caught sight of Logan leaning against the wall near the bike rack. His posture was casual, but his eyes were locked on her, the way someone watches a photo they wish they could climb back into.
Brielle emerged seconds later, her phone in hand, saying something he didn't hear. He turned toward her, smiling on cue, slipping into the role like it was stitched to his skin. But Maya had seen it.
His eyes didn't shine for her.
Damien's voice cut gently through her thoughts. "You okay?"
She blinked. "Yeah."
"You sure?"
Maya turned her face toward him. There was something warm about the way he asked. Like he wasn't checking for damage -- he was offering shelter.
"I'm fine," she said. And this time, she meant it.
They walked in silence again, heading toward the design wing where more prints waited to be trimmed and tagged. Somewhere behind them, Logan's footsteps followed -- for a while.
They stayed behind after the others trickled out. Damien ran a box cutter carefully along the edge of a poster, while Maya stapled the last few labels onto the wooden backing of their table frame. Outside the wide windows, dusk was sliding in, soft and violet.
"You've gotten faster at this," he said without looking up.
Maya shrugged. "I've done it three times this week."
Damien leaned back slightly to glance at her. "You don't complain."
"Not my style," she murmured.
He smiled faintly. "No, it's not."
She moved to the far side of the table to reach for a roll of tape, her fingers brushing against his as he passed it to her without her asking. Their eyes met for a second -- just long enough for something unspoken to pass between them.
Maya cleared her throat and looked down. "We're nearly done."
"Mm-hmm," Damien replied, but his eyes lingered on her a moment longer before returning to the poster.
They worked in rhythm after that, the silence between them companionable. Maya could hear the muffled throb of music from the quad, someone setting up early for the weekend hangout. But inside the room, everything felt still.
"I meant what I said earlier," Damien said, low and steady. "You don't owe him anything."
Maya paused, stapler in hand. "I know."
"You ever think about asking him why?"
Her jaw tightened. "Sometimes. But I think the answer would hurt worse than not knowing."
He looked at her again, this time fully. "Maybe. Or maybe you'd stop wondering."
She swallowed hard, then looked away. "You seem to know more than you're saying."
Damien didn't flinch. "I might."
"You're not going to tell me, are you?"
He hesitated. Then: "No."
"Why?"
He stepped closer -- not close enough to cross a line, but close enough that she could smell the soap on his skin, clean and sharp. "Because if you hear it from someone else, it won't feel like truth. And you deserve the truth."
Her eyes flicked to his. "I'm tired of people deciding what I deserve."
Damien's voice lowered. "Then take it."
Their eyes locked again. Neither moved.
A knock on the glass door made Maya flinch.
Logan stood outside the building, one hand in his pocket, the other lightly rapping the door. His eyes weren't on Damien -- they were on her.
Maya's heart stuttered once, then steadied.
"Ignore it," Damien said without looking.
But she didn't. She met Logan's stare head-on.
He tapped the glass again, slower this time. Less like a request, more like a presence reminding her he hadn't left.
Maya stood straighter, her spine firm.
"I'll finish the rest," Damien offered gently.
She nodded once, then turned her back to the door.
Logan didn't knock again.