Lily sat at the dining table, holding the bag of chocolates and the note that said, "Enjoy these. From Avery." She glanced at Avery, who was busy scrolling through her phone.
Lily cleared her throat. "Hey, Avery. Thanks for the chocolates yesterday."
Avery hesitated, her thumb hovering over her screen. "Uh, yeah. No problem."
Lily raised an eyebrow. Avery's nonchalant tone was enough to confirm her suspicion. She's covering for him.
"Are you sure you bought them?" Lily pressed gently, watching Avery's expression shift.
"Of course I did," Avery replied, avoiding eye contact. "Why wouldn't I?"
Lily bit her lip but didn't push further. She didn't want to make Avery uncomfortable, and deep down, she already knew the truth.
Liam. Why are you doing this? Why are you hiding behind everyone else?
Later that evening, the house was quiet. Liam stood in the kitchen, carefully measuring out ingredients for cold coffee. He worked with practiced precision, his movements smooth and deliberate.
The thought crossed his mind to make just one glass for himself, but the idea felt selfish. His grip on the spoon tightened as a familiar pang of guilt surfaced.
It's fine. I'll make it for everyone.
Once the drinks were ready, he placed them on the counter, adding a sticky note to the tray: "Cold coffee. From Avery."
Before taking his own glass, he pulled out his phone and sent Avery a quick message:
Liam: I made cold coffee for everyone. Pretend you did it if they ask.
Avery was lying on the couch when her phone buzzed. She unlocked it, reading Liam's message twice before sighing.
Why am I even doing what he says? she thought, running a hand through her hair.
She sat up and glanced toward the kitchen, where the glasses of cold coffee waited. The drinks looked perfect, the slight froth on top making her stomach growl. Avery frowned. She'd always admired Liam's skill in the kitchen—he had an almost scientific approach to everything, even something as simple as coffee.
Why doesn't he just admit he made it?
Still, Avery played along. She took the tray and walked into the living room, where Emily was reading a book.
"Here," Avery said, handing a glass to Emily. "Cold coffee, courtesy of me."
Emily gave her a skeptical look but took a sip. Her eyes widened slightly as she swallowed.
"This isn't yours," Emily said softly, lowering the glass.
"What?" Avery tried to feign ignorance.
Emily shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. "The ratio of milk, chocolate syrup, and vanilla ice cream—it's exactly how Liam makes it."
Avery shrugged, not bothering to deny it. "Just drink it. Does it matter who made it?"
Emily nodded slowly, taking another sip. Her gaze wandered toward the stairs where Liam's room was.
Why are you hiding, Liam? she wondered.
Lily stared at the glass of cold coffee in front of her, her fingers lightly tracing the condensation on the outside.
"Not drinking it?" Avery asked as she walked by.
Lily shook her head. "I ate too much chocolate yesterday. It might not be good for me."
She wasn't lying, but that wasn't the whole reason. Lily had a feeling Liam had made the coffee, and the thought of drinking it brought a wave of emotions she wasn't ready to confront.
She pushed the glass aside, her appetite gone.
Upstairs, Liam sat at his desk, sipping his own glass of cold coffee. His notebook was open in front of him, filled with neatly organized notes. His expression remained cold, his mind focused solely on the words on the page.
But a small part of him wondered if anyone had noticed. If they could tell.
He shook his head, dismissing the thought. It didn't matter.
Avery sat cross-legged on her bed, sipping the last of her coffee. She couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness for Liam. He was still there, somewhere beneath that cold exterior, but he was burying himself deeper and deeper.
He cares so much, but he won't admit it. Why?
Emily placed her empty glass on the table, leaning back in her chair. Her thoughts drifted to the old Liam—the one who smiled, teased, and shared his thoughts openly. She missed that version of him, but she also understood that pushing him wouldn't work.
He'll come back when he's ready, she told herself.
But she couldn't shake the feeling that the longer he stayed like this, the harder it would be to reach him.
Lily stood by her window, staring out at the darkening sky. The glass of cold coffee remained untouched on her desk.
She hugged her arms to herself, her thoughts racing.
You can push me away all you want, Liam, but I'm not giving up on you.
Her grip tightened.
I'll find a way to bring you back. No matter how long it takes.
In Liam's room, the framed photo of him and Lily remained locked in the drawer. His eyes lingered on the drawer for a moment before he turned back to his notebook.
The coldness in his gaze never wavered, even as the faintest flicker of something—regret, maybe—crossed his mind.
He finished the last sip of his coffee, the glass clinking softly as he placed it on the table.
The room fell silent, the only sound the scratching of his pen as he resumed his studies.
Downstairs, Lily glanced at the untouched coffee on her desk, a small smile playing on her lips despite the ache in her chest.