We climb the stairs in silence. Kai unlocks the door, steps aside to let me in first—always, instinctive—and then closes it behind us with a careful softness that doesn’t match his mood. The warm light inside feels too normal for what just happened.
The living room is quiet, and there’s no sign of Grayson, which makes me feel two warring emotions: both relief that I don’t have to see anyone else tonight and also disappointment that I won’t be seeing him.
Kai tosses his keys on the counter and turns to me like he’s about to keep going.
“Okay,” he says, whether he’s trying to calm me or himself down, I’m not entirely sure. “Go—go shower. Take my bed tonight. I have some shorts out here, and I’ll sleep on the couch. You’ve had a long day, I’ve had a long day, just crash here. Get some sleep, and we’ll talk tomorrow.”
My chest loosens a fraction. “Okay.”
Kai nods once, stiff, like he’s forcing himself to accept it.
I move down the hall toward Kai’s room and shut the door softly behind me. The second I’m alone, I pull my phone out, seeing a text from Weston.
Weston: helloooooo over there!
I close my eyes and exhale slowly. It’s not that I don’t like Weston, but I just don’t have it in me to even pretend I want to be social anymore tonight.
Then another notification slides across the top of my screen.
A forum ping.
My stomach flips, even though I told myself I wouldn’t do this tonight.
I open it anyway.
Not because I’m desperate.
Because my brain is tired, and it knows this place is quiet.
NumberEleven: you awake?
LittleTooMuch: Yeah. Rough night.
NumberEleven: you want to talk about it?
My eyes sting instantly, the tears begging to be let out.
I wipe at them angrily, offended by my own feelings, especially the ones I can’t seem to control.
LittleTooMuch: No, I really think I just need to sit and calm down.
A pause.
NumberEleven: ok. breathe with me then.
NumberEleven: in for four. hold. out for six.
I do it.
Then again, and again.
My shoulders relax just a fraction, but the urge to cry is subsiding.
I type the truth of what I’m feeling before I can talk myself out of it.
LittleTooMuch: I hate being someone’s emergency.
Three dots.
