I wasn’t supposed to get attached; I wasn’t supposed to want someone who was only temporary. We’dagreedthis thing between us was only temporary. Kai was leaving and hewantedto leave.
I couldn’t survive that kind of exit. What the fuck was I supposed to do?
Gran leapt onto the couch and struck a dramatic pose. “AND SCENE!”
Kai bowed deeply like he had just finished a performance on Broadway, while I stood there frozen, my heart pounding and my mind screaming.
Then he looked at me, his face still flushed from laughing, his cowboy hat askew and glitter coating every inch of him. My heart skipped a beat, then pounded against my ribcage, almost like it wanted to break free.
I can’t fall for someone who’s leaving.
Chapter 16
Tori
Standingoutsidealecturehall when you didn’t belong there anymore felt a lot like loitering at your own funeral.
The building hummed with an achingly familiar energy, accompanied by the buzz of overlapping conversations. The air was filled with the smell of burnt coffee and cheap cologne.
Everyone looked like they knew where they were going. They all looked sosettled, while I stood there feeling more adrift than ever.
I shoved my hands into my jacket pockets and stared at the double doors like they might personally judge me.
Kai had texted me:Don’t bail. I’ll be out in five.
Until he’d said it, I hadn’t been planning to leave, but now thoughts of doubt were creeping in.
I didn’t have a good reason not to be here. That was the problem. There was no emergency or crisis. Just afamiliar ache in my chest, reminding me this place — this version of life — wasn’t mine anymore.
A group of students spilled out of the lecture hall, laughing loudly. Someone bumped my shoulder and muttered an apology without slowing down. I nodded automatically, shrinking in on myself.
I was used to being overlooked, to people literally stumbling over my five-three frame, but God, I felt conspicuous.
Too old, too out of place. Too aware of the fact I wasn’t carrying a backpack or complaining about exams or checking a student portal I couldn’t afford to access anymore.
By the time Kai emerged, cutting through the crowd with an ease bordering on unfair, my thoughts were spiraling.
He was laughing at something one of his classmates said, head tipped back, that dazzling, brilliant smile on his face, like he’d been born knowing how to belong anywhere he landed.
A couple of guys clapped him on the shoulder as they passed. Someone called his name. Someone else asked if he was coming to the gym later.
He answered all of them without missing a beat.
It hit me — not for the first time — how insane it was that he’d only been in the States for a handful of months. He was in a completely new country, playing anew sport, and surrounded by an unfamiliar system. Yet somehow, there he was, fitting in like he’d been here all along.
I felt … peripheral, like background noise.
For a split second, I was convinced everyone could tell I didn’t belong. Convinced they were clocking me as the girl hovering outside a lecture hall like a ghost with unfinished business.
If I ever actually ended up haunting a place, hopefully it wouldn't be as pitiful as this.
Then Kai’s eyes found mine and everything else dropped away.
His smile changed almost imperceptibly. He broke off mid-conversation, weaving through the crowd until he was standing in front of me.
“There you are,” he greeted, like I’d kept him waiting.
Before I could respond — a sarcastic comment already on the tip of my tongue — he hooked a finger through one of my belt loops and pulled me half a step closer. It was casual, familiar and absolutely devastating.
