[CHAPTER 17]

───🦋･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.🦋───

───🦋･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.🦋───

TITLE : A LINE CROSSED, A LINE BLURRED

ELLIE COULD STILL HEAR his words ringing in her ears.

"We stop pretending."

It was a simple statement, yet it carried a weight that neither of them had been ready for.

Because what did that mean, exactly?

Did it mean they stopped fake dating?

Or did it mean they stopped pretending it was just fake?

Mattheo hadn't elaborated. He had just stood there, staring at her, waiting—like he needed her to be the one to decide what happened next.

And the worst part?

Ellie had no idea what she wanted.

—

The days that followed were slow and agonizing.

She and Mattheo still talked. Still saw each other every day.

But something was... different.

They didn't pretend anymore, but that didn't mean they stopped acting like—whatever this was.

He still saved a seat for her at breakfast. Still walked her to class when they happened to be going the same way.

Still pulled her aside during Quidditch practice to check in, murmuring little things like "You alright?" or "You're flying stiff today, something wrong?"

Little things that had always been there, but now felt heavier.

Like everything had weight.

Like every touch, every glance, every lingering pause between words carried meaning neither of them wanted to admit.

Ellie told herself she was imagining it.

That nothing had changed.

That she was overthinking.

And then Mattheo touched her, and she realized she wasn't.

—

It happened after practice one evening.

Ellie had stayed behind, running drills with Daphne  and Pansy until the sun had dipped low in the sky.

By the time she landed, sweat clinging to her skin, the field was mostly empty.

Mostly.

Mattheo was still there, sitting on one of the benches by the pitch, his broom resting against his legs.

Waiting.

For her.

Ellie exhaled, pretending her stomach didn't flip as she approached.

"You didn't have to wait," she said, pulling off her gloves.

Mattheo shrugged. "Didn't have to. Wanted to."

Ellie ignored the way her pulse jumped at that.

She grabbed a towel from her bag and wiped her face, avoiding his gaze.

"Is this your new thing now?" she asked lightly. "Waiting for me after practice?"

Mattheo leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "No. Just making sure you don't overwork yourself."

Ellie snorted. "Says the one who literally fell asleep standing up last week."

Mattheo smirked slightly. "That was different."

Ellie rolled her eyes, tossing the towel back in her bag. "Right."

A moment of silence stretched between them.

Then, quieter—softer—Mattheo said, "You were flying different today."

Ellie blinked. "Different how?"

Mattheo's gaze flickered over her, studying her too closely, too carefully. "You weren't as focused."

Ellie hesitated.

Because the truth was, she hadn't been.

Her mind had been all over the place, thoughts looping back to him, to their conversation in the common room, to what it meant.

She didn't answer.

And Mattheo noticed.

His eyes darkened slightly, jaw tensing.

"Ellie," he said, voice lower now.

Her stomach twisted.

"I'm fine," she said quickly, stepping back, suddenly desperate to put space between them.

But Mattheo reached out without thinking, catching her wrist.

The touch wasn't forceful. Wasn't demanding.

But it stopped her.

Held her there.

Ellie inhaled sharply, pulse stuttering.

Mattheo's fingers curled slightly against her skin—like he wasn't even aware he was doing it.

Like letting go wasn't an option.

Ellie swallowed, forcing herself to look at him.

Big mistake.

Because he was already watching her, gaze steady, unreadable, but intense.

Her skin burned where he touched her, even through the thin fabric of her sleeve.

And suddenly, she wasn't thinking about Lorenzo .

Wasn't thinking about why this had started in the first place.

All she could think about was him.

Mattheo.

Mattheo, who was looking at her like she was the only thing that mattered in that moment.

Mattheo, who wasn't pretending anymore.

Her breath caught.

"We should stop pretending," he murmured, so quiet it was barely above a whisper.

Ellie's heart slammed against her ribs.

Not a confession.

Not an admission of anything more than what they both already knew.

But it still felt like crossing a line.

A line that had been blurred for far too long.

A line Ellie wasn't sure they could ever go back behind.

And the terrifying part?

She didn't want to.

───🦋･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.🦋───