I stood, pressing the tissue to my palm.
“Let’s just get the supplies and check out,” I said, not quite looking at him.
In the car, I gave Landon instructions to my apartment. He insisted on taking me home so I could disinfect the tiny cut on my hand, and after he would drop off the supplies at the CCC.
Fortunately, it was a quick ride, so I didn’t have to sit here in uncomfortable silence any longer. I knew what Landon was doing, trying to push me out of my comfort zone, to pursue something bigger and better than what I had now. It was a nice gesture, but one that didn’t hold merit coming from someone who lost the privilege to encourage me.
The radio played softly, some acoustic ballad with lyrics that felt a little too on the nose. I kept my eyes fixed on the window, watching the city blur past. I loved afternoons in the city—bright sun, open air spilling past you, feeling like there was an eternity ahead.
We were almost at my apartment. Without warning, Landon veered onto a side street and pulled over beside an empty curb. The engine idled. I turned to him, confused.
“What are you doing?”
Landon didn’t look at me right away. His hands stayed on the wheel, knuckles white. His jaw tightened like he was weighing whether to speak at all.
“I can’t keep pretending like everything’s fine,” he said finally. His tone was low but steady. “That we’re just two old friends talking about art brushes and diners.
“If you want me to leave you alone, I’ll do it. If you want to never talk to me again, I’ll make sure I never breathe a word around you. Just…” He sighed. “Just answer one question for me. Honestly.”
Something braced inside me instinctively. I hated how vulnerable he made me feel, how he peeled back everything I’d tried to stack neatly and safely. I hated even more that I couldn’t look away.
He turned to me then, his light brown eyes searching mine. “Are you happy, Kira?”
The question hit me with a devastating blow. I should’ve been able to answer immediately. Of course I was happy. I had a stable job, a nice apartment, great friends, a boyfriend. On paper, everything added up. But somewhere between my heart and my mouth, the words got stuck.
It was such a simple question. Logically, wouldn’t the answer be simple too?
“Because you don’t look happy,” he continued gently. “I keep wondering if you’re pretending like this whole life you’re living fits you.”
My initial thought ofwhere did he find the audacity to ask me thiswas overwhelmed by the sinking realization that he was sort of right.
“You don’t know me,” I said, but even I could hear how thin the protest sounded.
“Maybe I don’t,” he admitted. “Not anymore. I just—God, Kira. I knew you when you were the girl who used to carry a sketchbook everywhere and had paint under her fingernails and dreamed out loud. You didn’t care if no one else supported you. You believed in things. In yourself.”
I looked down at my hands, fingers twisting in my lap. “People change.”
He shook his head. “No, people grow. Maybe that means they have to grow sideways, but people like you shouldn’t feel like they have to shrink themselves in the process.”
The car fell quiet again. The air between us was thick withhistory and tension and that painful kind of truth that stripped everything bare.
I looked up at him, heart thudding.
“I don’t know if I’m happy,” I admitted. “I haven’t thought about it in a long time. I think I’ve been too afraid to.”
Landon exhaled, and to my relief, there was no push behind it. Just understanding.
“Maybe it’s time you did.”
Outside the car, the street was still. A few stray leaves skittered across the pavement. Landon turned the car back on and finished the drive down the block. When he pulled up to the curb, I reached for the door handle, then paused.
“Thanks for driving.”
“Anytime.” And then, after a beat, “Seriously. Anytime.”
I gave him a faint nod, heart thudding in my chest as I stepped out of the car and shut the door behind me. But the second my feet hit the sidewalk, I spotted a figure leaning against the railing by my apartment stairs with their arms crossed, expression unreadable in the dim light.
Xavier.
