“You’re not fucked.” He leans over and pulls the book out of my hands, then holds it out for me to take. “You’re smart as hell.”
He states it like Haven Lee being smart is as obvious as the sky being blue.
My throat is too tight for words as I take the book from him.
“Hey.” His voice is softer now. “You okay?”
I nod quickly, not trusting myself to speak. Because how do I explain that the only other person who’s ever said that to me was Bastian?
In Riverside, being smart turned you into some kind of tragic comedy. In Ashwood High, being smart made you a target. Kai throwing it out there like it’s no big deal is fucking with my head.
His phone buzzes on the coffee table.
We both glance at it. The screen lights up with a notification, and Kai reaches for it, scanning whatever message just came through. He glances up at me, suddenly beaming.
“What?” I ask.
“Halloween party next Friday. We’re so gonna go!”
I blink at him. “But it’s midterms.”
“Exactly. We’ll need to blow off steam after exams.” Restless energy practically hums off him as he sits up straighter. “We gotta do the whole couple costume thing!”
It sounds like fun. Normal, college fun.
“Yeah,” I hear myself say. “Let’s do it.”
“Fuck yeah!” Kai tosses his textbook aside and shoves his notes on the floor. So much for his system. “Okay, hear me out…Ketchup and mustard.” He spreads his hands like he just mic-dropped a Pulitzer speech.
“That’s definitely…an option…” I say carefully.
Why does vetoing his idea feel like stepping on a puppy’s paw?
“Okay. Can see you’re not vibing with it. Uh…” His face scrunches up. “We could do chips and salsa?”
“Yeah, so, maybe somethingnotfood related?”
“Guess that rules out peanut butter and jelly,” he mutters, rolling his eyes.
I laugh despite myself. “Oh my God, Kai. Seriously?”
“I’m brainstorming.” He runs a hand through his hair, mussing it up even more.
“Please stop before you hurt yourself.” I pick up a slice of cold pizza because all this talk of food has made me hungry again. “We could do Romeo and Juliet?”
“Too morbid.”
“It’s Halloween,” I say dryly, but he shakes his head. “Fine, Beauty and the Beast?”
“Glorified Stockholm syndrome.”
“You’re really limiting our options here.” But I’m grinning, and he’s grinning, and fuck, I want to live in this moment forever—where we’re just two college kids being stupid about Halloween costumes. No childhood trauma, no fucked-up professor hunting us both.
His phone buzzes again.
Kai glances at it and laughs—a real, genuine laugh that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners.
“What?” I ask.
