Page 102 of Because I Liked A Boy
We ate with a film flickering across the TV—something neither of us were really watching. The quiet wasn’t awkward anymore. It was almost… easy.
Halfway through, Liam stole another fry and I swatted his hand, and for a fleeting moment a laugh escaped me—thin, startled, but real. The sound died quickly, guilt pressing it back down, but the ghost of it lingered. I’d forgotten what it felt like to be ordinary, to sit on a sofa and argue over chips.
When the credits rolled, I felt heavy, dulled by food and exhaustion. Liam gathered the bags and stood, pausing in the doorway. “Get some sleep, Bella. Big day tomorrow.”
His voice was softer than the words, careful in a way that made my chest ache. Then he was gone down the hall, leaving me with the hum of the TV and the weight of what came next.
The flat was quiet.
Then my phone lit up on the coffee table.
Penny.
Her name pulsed against the screen, and my breath caught. I fumbled it up, my voice shaking. “Penny?”
“Bella?” Her whisper cracked, thin and breaking. “I don’t know what to do…”
My pulse spiked. “What’s wrong?”
A shuffle, fabric brushing the receiver. Then: “He locked me in my room. Said it’s to make sure I don’t embarrass him before the party. Bella, I’m scared.”
Her breathing was ragged; something heavy scraped faintly in the background. “He says I’m not allowed out until the party. That if I try, he’ll make me regret it. I think… I think he’s put someone outside my door.”
My blood ran cold. I pressed a fist to my chest to steady the rage and fear clawing through me. “Penny, listen. Whatever he says, whatever he does, hold on. Just two more days. I swear I’m coming for you.”
I pressed a hand to my mouth, fighting the tremor in my voice. “Listen to me. You’re not alone, do you hear me? I’m coming for you.”
Her breath hitched. “Promise?”
The word split me wide open. “Promise,” I whispered, fierce and unshakable.
The line crackled. A soft sob. Then silence.
I sat there in the dark, phone clutched to my chest, the echo of her fear carved into me.
Tomorrow wasn’t just a plan anymore. It was war.
Reclaiming Power
I woke before the alarm, the room grey with London morning and the ache in my cheek pulsing with my heartbeat. For a moment I didn’t remember why then Penny’s whisper crashed back in.
He locked me in my room… I’m scared.
I lay there until the ceiling blurred, then swung my legs out of bed and stood. No shaking. Not today.
The flat was already awake. Liam sat at the kitchen island in his shirt sleeves, tie loose, laptop open, two phones face-down like he didn’t trust them. He looked up the second he heard me.
“Morning,” he said, voice even. His eyes went to my cheek, flickered, then away. “Coffee?”
I nodded. He slid a mug over and a cold compress after it without comment. The quiet between us wasn’t empty it was packed tight with everything we weren’t letting spill.
“We go in at eight,” he said, glancing at his watch. “Doors open at seven for press. You don’t want the carpet. We want the room.”
I wrapped my fingers around the mug until the heat bit. “How bad is theguest list?”
“Every board he wants to impress. Politicians. Editors. The Cartwrights.” He met my eyes. “And your father.”
A laugh caught in my throat and broke. “Naturally.”
