We let the conversation move on, but the promise stayed there between us.
Not about the event.
About the fact that I wanted her there. With me.
She walked me to the door, and for a second, neither of us moved.
It was quiet—the kind of quiet that buzzed under your skin. Like something unspoken had taken up all the air between us, daring one of us to name it.
I looked at her. Really looked at her. The soft flush still on her cheeks from the warmth of the kitchen, her arms crossed like she wasn’t sure if she wanted to lean on the doorframe or push me out entirely.
“Thanks for dinner,” I said, voice low. I meant it.
She gave a little huff, but there was a smile hiding in it. “Thanks for eating it like it wasn’t just plain noodles with jar sauce.”
I smiled back. “Tasted better than anything I’ve had all week.”
Her eyes flicked to mine. There was something in them—something unreadable, but it felt like a thread being pulled tighter between us.
We just… stood there. The hallway dim, her apartment warm behind her, and the door still open. I didn’t move closer. Didn’t touch her. There was a time for that, but this wasn’t it.
“Night, Kieren.” Her voice was softer now. Almost reluctant.
“Night, Daphne.”
I stepped out, the chill of the hallway hitting me fast after the comfort of her apartment. I didn’t look back until I was halfway to the car.
She was still holding back—I could feel it in the way she deflected, the way she kept one hand on the doorknob like it grounded her.
But for the first time since I met her… she didn’t lock me out.
And that? That felt like a win.
Chapter 17
Daphne
The gym was chaos.
Squeaky sneakers echoed off the polished floor, bouncing between the walls like pinballs. Folding bleachers creaked under the weight of hyper kids who clearly didn’t care that they were supposed to be “seated and listening.” Bright paper banners hung crookedly over the doors, and someone had set up orange cones that were already being used as hats.
I was standing there with a clipboard I didn’t need, pretending I had a reason to exist in this environment. I wasn’t here as a journalist. There was no camera, no notepad, no angle to dig into. I was here because Kieren had asked. Or maybe it was Cam who’d invited me officially, but I knew the truth.
He wanted me here.
That thought alone made my pulse do weird things.
I scanned the gym, trying not to look like I was scanning the gym. And there he was—Kieren—in his element. Surrounded by wide-eyed kids, crouching down to tie a shoe, laughing with one of the staff members like he’d been doing this his whole life. He looked over then, right at me, and winked.
God help me, I felt it in my chest.
I rolled my eyes—because that was safer than smiling—and gripped the clipboard tighter.
He jogged over, effortlessly cutting through the chaos, and stopped a few feet in front of me.
“You look serious,” he said, eyeing the clipboard. “What’d they put you in charge of? Disciplinary action?”
“This?” I lifted it. “Oh, it’s blank. I just needed something to hold so I didn’t stress-pick at my nail polish.”
