I’m working my way through a Twizzler, my study material neatly piled in my lap. Kai’s notes are everywhere. On the cushions, on the floor. One page even ended up on the top of the sofa’s headrest. His phone is blaring out some random hip-hop track that sounds exactly the same as the last ten on his playlist.
It’s domestic as fuck.
I hate how much I love it, because this is what I’ve always wanted, and it feels too good to be true.
Someone to study with—check.
Someone who saves the last slice of pizza without being asked—check.
Someone who doesn’t make me apologize for taking up space…someone who actuallywantsme here.
Check.
My heart quivers. I touch the butterfly pendant at my throat to ground myself. The silver is warm from my skin. The tiny blue stone catches the lamplight as I twist it in my fingers.
I still can’t believe he finally gave this to me.
Scratch that. I can’t believe heapologizedfor losing his shit about Bastian’s phone. That was two days ago, and I’m still reeling.
It happened on Wednesday, right after lunch. With the temperature dropping every day, we’ve been cloistered up in the college library in between classes. He shuffled up to me in the booth we were snuggled in, all nervous energy and fidgeting hands, and actually said sorry.
Not, “Sorry, but—” or “Sorry you feel that way,” or some other non-apology bullshit. Just a straight up, “I’m sorry I was a dick about the phone.”
I didn’t know what to do with that.
Still don’t, honestly.
But it gives me this dangerous, stupid,giddyhope that maybe—just maybe—we can survive my fuck-ups. That, when I inevitably hurt him or prove I’m exactly as broken as he suspects, he won’t just bail.
And I let myself believe it, even though experience tells me this feeling has an expiration date.
I glance at Kai again. His eyes are closed, the textbook slowly sliding down his stomach. The highlighter dangling from his now-open mouth is in danger of falling out.
“You’d better not be sleeping,” I say.
He jerks, failing to catch his textbook before it hits the floor, but catching the highlighter as it drops out of his mouth. “My brain does its best processing while I sleep. It’s how Einstein studied.”
“That’s such a lie.”
“It’s totally not a lie. He took a lot of naps.”
I sigh. “If we could nap our way to better grades, they’d have sleep pods in the classrooms, not desks.”
“The combined snoring would be a health hazard.”
I snort-laugh.
“See?” He grins. “I make studying fun.”
“You make studyingimpossible.” But I’m smiling too, and God, when did I become this person? This girl who smiles at dumb jokes and feels warm inside and actually believes I can be normal?
Kai shifts on the sofa, tapping my thigh with his foot. “How you doing with Piaget?”
“I’m gonna piaget myself off a bridge if I read any more of this bullshit.”
It’s his turn to snort-laugh. “No, but seriously.”
I flip another page, my eyes refusing to focus on the dense text. “I still don’t know what to write for my essay.” I groan dramatically, snapping the textbook closed and bashing it against my forehead. “I’m. So. Fucked!”
