I didn’t move at first. Just stood there with the door cracked open, staring at Avery like I was still trying to make sense of her being here at all. The last person I expected to find on my doorstep, the last person I wanted tangled anywhere near the quiet Val had just left behind—was her.
Her hands were folded in front of her, almost like she was bracing herself. When she finally spoke, her voice was small, careful.
] "Can I... co in?"
The answer that swelled in my chest was a no. A sharp, imdiate no. Because it felt like the right thing, the only thing. Letting her inside would blur lines I didn’t want blurred, not when I was already carrying the weight of missing Val. Not when the last thing I needed was more complication.
But saying no outright would’ve been cruel. And if nothing else, I wasn’t cruel.
So I nodded. "Yeah. Sure."
I stepped back, and she slipped past , her perfu faint but sharp in the air—different from Val’s soft, floral sweetness. It was strange how noticeable that difference was.
She sat on the couch like she belonged there, legs crossed, posture casual. I stayed standing, the door clicking shut behind like it was locking into sothing I wasn’t sure I wanted.
For a second, I just hovered there, searching for sothing—anything—that might ease the stiffness pressing between us. A joke? Small talk? So... you just decided to drop by? But nothing felt right, nothing ca without the risk of sounding sharp or careless.
So instead, I defaulted to the safest thing I could manage. "What can I get you?" I asked, my tone clipped, polite.
Her eyes flicked up. "Water’s fine."
I nodded, grateful for the excuse to turn my back, even if it was only for a minute. The tap ran, glass filled, and when I returned, I handed it to her.
She took a sip, then tilted her head at . "You’re not gonna sit?"
"Oh. Right." I lowered myself onto the opposite end of the couch, deliberately leaving space between us. My back pressed against the armrest, like I needed sothing solid to anchor .
"So." I cleared my throat. "What brings you here?"
Her brows pinched. "Do you not want here?"
The question caught off guard.
"You sound like you don’t want here," she pressed, a faint edge sharpening her words.
I blinked. "You do understand that I have a girlfriend—"
] "I know."
"—who doesn’t like you," I added, my voice overlapping hers.
That stopped her. She set the glass down carefully, her fingers tracing the rim before she spoke. "Of course. That’s why I can’t be friends with you."
The honesty in her tone made pause.
"Avery," I said after a beat, leaning forward slightly, "you and I both know friendship isn’t what you really want."
Her eyes widened at the bluntness, and for a second I wondered if I’d gone too far. But then she looked down, a soft smile pulling at her lips.
"You’ve really changed a lot," she murmured.
"Uh?"
"You know." She shrugged lightly. "You used to be... naive. Kinda scared of girls."
I huffed a laugh. "I wasn’t scared of girls."
She gave a look. "You kinda were."
A reluctant chuckle slipped out. "Okay, maybeee a little."
Her laugh followed mine, lighter this ti, and for a second the room didn’t feel so heavy. But silence settled quickly after, stretching long enough for to notice how the ticking clock filled the space.
Then she spoke again, softer. "You’re... probably never gonna have space for anyone else in your heart."
I didn’t reply. Because she was right. And because saying anything at all would’ve felt like giving too much weight to words I didn’t want to hold.
She chuckled, but it was sad this ti. "I should probably et Marina for tips."
That made tilt my head. "Tips?"
She didn’t answer. Her lips parted like she might explain, but then she closed them again, her gaze slipping away. For a second, sothing heavy lingered in the silence—sothing I couldn’t na. Then she shook her head lightly, brushing past it as if it hadn’t been there at all.
"You have this strange way of pulling girls, Kai," she said, with a faint smile. "It’s actually a little funny, you do it without even realizing."
A humble laugh escaped . "I really don’t. I don’t know how to."
"And yet..." She leaned back, folding her arms. "You’ve got Celestia."
Her na hung heavy in the air. I stilled, the ache in my chest flaring again.
Avery caught herself, then chuckled again, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She pushed herself up from the couch and extended her hand toward .
I hesitated.
"What?" she teased. "I won’t bite."
A quiet snort left , a little laugh I didn’t an to let slip. Still, I reached out and shook her hand.
Her grip lingered longer than it should’ve, her gaze holding mine without blinking. Her voice dropped to a whisper that still cut through the space between us.
] "And here I thought I’d just co over and seduce you until you caved."
My eyes widened, my hand almost jerking back.
She smirked at my reaction. "Don’t worry. I’m not gonna do anything crazy."
She released , her hand slipping away, and the air felt a little clearer.
I stood automatically, walking her toward the door. She stepped outside, the early afternoon air drifting in around her. Then she paused, turning back to with a look I couldn’t quite read—half-soft, half-defiant.
"Kai," she said.
"Mm?"
Her lips curled into a small, almost sad smile. "I’m still not giving up. Not yet."
And with that, she walked off, heels clicking against the pavent until the sound faded with the start of her car engine.
I closed the door, the echo of her words trailing after .
Exhaling hard, I sank onto the couch. My chest felt tight, restless. What the hell had just happened?
But before I could let it spiral, before I could dwell on Avery’s persistence, my thoughts shifted back to where they always landed. Val.
Always Val.
I leaned back, grabbed the remote, and switched on the TV, the noise filling the silence she’d left behind. But it didn’t matter what show flickered on the screen, or what sound humd in the background.
Because my mind—my heart—was already elsewhere. With her.
---
To be continued...
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