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Chapter twelve

Isabelle

“What am I doing, what am I doing, what am I doing!” I mutter to myself as I drive slowly through downtown Vancouver, following Kai’s sports car to his apartment.

It’s absolutely pouring, my wipers are on full blast, and it's taking everything I have to stay focused on the drive and not spiral into panic.

I could swear he was going to kiss me in the parking lot of the aquarium, of all places. Heck, I could swear I felt the long length of his cock press into me when we were watching the otters. Or maybe I pressed into him. Who really knows.

But before that, when we were talking and he asked about Italy, I felt him drawing away. I can’t say I blame him. If I’m this overwhelmed and lost when it comes to how it feels to be around him again, I can’t begin to imagine how he might feel.

Still, it isn’t any easier to figure things out when one minute, he’s grabbing my hand like the past eight years never happened, and the next he’s standing up and walking away as I try to tell him how much I missed him.

Fucking hell, he’s confusing me.

I’m confusing myself.

It’s all just so damn confusing.

But it’s also Kai. And being around him has always made perfect sense because it’s always made me feel like all the chaos of the world disappears when he’s near.

That has to be the reason I’m doing this, going to his apartment right now. I need the peace that only he brings me.

We reach his building, and as instructed, I follow him into the underground parking, pulling into a visitor spot. He meets me at my car and hands me a visitor’s pass that I place on my dash.

I close the car door and turn to find him with a small, hesitant smile on his face and an outstretched hand. I give him a smile in return and take his hand, letting him lead me to the elevators.

It feels so normal to hold his hand. As if we never stopped. And the warmth emanating from him is welcome as I try not to be too obvious about shivering from the cold dampness seeping into me.

But clearly, I fail. As soon as we’re in the elevator, Kai takes one look at me and curses, pulling me into his arms, my back to his front. “Jesus, you’re freezing, Iz,” he mutters, rubbing his hands up and down my arms. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was gonna rain that hard.”

“Hey, it’s fine, I won’t melt.” I try to sound reassuring, but it’s hard when my teeth are chattering so loudly. He only pulls me closer.

The sound of the elevator doors opening on his floor makes me step away from him and into the hall. “Do you eat pizza during the season or are you on some crazy strict professional athlete diet?” I ask in a somewhat desperate attempt to redirect our attention.

“You’d have to pry pizza out of my hands with a crowbar. I’m insulted you’d ever think otherwise. It’s like you don’t even know me.”

He tosses a mock-wounded look over his shoulder as he unlocks his front door.

I bite back my retort, but in a lot of ways, I feel like I don’t know him.

Deep down, I hope he’s the same person I loved.

I see that person, can sense his good heart.

But there’s no denying the truth that we’ve both changed.

I don’t know if he still loves classic country music and knows every word to most Willie Nelson songs. I don’t know if he still drinks coffee out of an old Tim Hortons mug his sister gave him one year. I don’t know if he still sleeps sprawled on his stomach.

I’m lost in thought and don’t realize he’s walked away from me until he’s back, holding out a folded sweatshirt and a pair of shorts.

“If you want a shower to warm up, go ahead. Otherwise, here’s some clothes. I can put yours in the dryer if you want.”

“Thanks.” I take the clothes and look around for a space to dress. “Um, is there a bathroom I can change in?”

“Oh. Uh, you can just use my room.” His cheeks darken as he turns and walks toward a short hall. I follow after him, licking my suddenly dry lips. He comes to a stop and nods toward a door. “I’ll order some pizza and then change once you’re done.”

He shuts the door behind me, and it hits me. I’m in Kai’s bedroom. My gaze scans the room, from the rumpled sheets on a massive bed, to the book propped open on a nightstand that also holds a glass of water and nothing else.

The walls are a dark grey, but the two sconces above the headboard cast warm light.

A large window and a door that must lead to a small balcony are along one wall, and on another is a low dresser covered in photo frames.

That’s where my attention is drawn and I take a step closer, spying some familiar photos I remember from his college dorm, as well as some new ones.

In the very back, my gaze lands on a small strip of photos.

Three, black and white, in a vertical strip from a photo booth we found when we went to the Florida Strawberry Festival, right before I left to go to Italy.

I can’t believe he still has them. Carefully, I reach for the photos, lifting them off the clip stand they’re in. God, we look so happy. So carefree. Untouchable, and undeniably in love. We had no idea how drastically everything would change over the next several months.

When Kai knocks on the door, I almost drop the photos. “Hey Iz? You good with mushrooms and sausage on the pizza?”

“Y-yeah,” I call back, my heart racing. “I’ll be right out.”

“No rush.”

I strain to hear his footfalls as he walks away before carefully setting the photos back where I found them.

Then, as quickly as I can, I strip out of my wet clothes.

Damn, even my bra is soaked. And nothing is more uncomfortable than a wet bra.

But can I really parade around in front of him without a bra on?

I decide to slip on his hoodie and see if it’s noticeable.

I mean, if he doesn’t touch me, or get too close, will he even be able to tell?

I grimace. I’m not exactly small up top.

He’ll be able to tell. But maybe I can hide it.

I’ve got to try because a wet bra is not something I want to deal with right now.

As the hoodie falls over my head, I inhale, and Oh .

That smell. It's another hit of memory, and just like the photograph, I’m transported back in time to when we were together and I’d wear his sweatshirt every chance I could get.

Which was often, seeing how everywhere in Florida was obsessed with air conditioning.

I snatch up my wet clothes, carefully hiding my bra by wrapping my jeans around it. Then, opening his bedroom door, I step out into the hall and make my way to the living room.

When I hear Willie Nelson singing about blue eyes crying in the rain, I smile. Then Kai comes into view, and I can see his mouth moving, and I know he’s singing along silently.

“Are you still tone-deaf?” I tease, dropping my clothes by my shoes near the front door.

Kai scoffs, but he’s smiling. “Take that back. I’m not tone-deaf, I just prefer a different sound.”

“Mm-hmm.” I move to one of the stools lining the kitchen counter and take a seat, folding my arms over my chest. “Thanks for the clothes.”

He gives me a nod, but I see the flare of heat as he scans me. “No problem.” He moves out of the kitchen and takes a step toward the front door where my stuff is piled up. “Want me to grab your clothes and put them in the dryer with mine?”

“No!” I cry out, and he freezes, eyes wide. “Sorry. No, if you don’t mind me just going home in these, I’ll toss them in the laundry later.”

Thank God, he just shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

He disappears into his bedroom, only to return a couple of minutes later wearing grey sweatpants and tugging a Tridents T-shirt over his chest. Damn it, he did that on purpose, I bet.

Walking out with the shirt only just over his head, giving me a peek at abs that are even more defined than I remember.

I look away before he catches me staring.

“Wanna watch a movie or something?”

There’s an odd vulnerability I can detect in his voice. Something I haven’t heard from him before. When I turn to him, he’s standing by the couch, his arms hanging loosely by his side, but I see the fingers on his left hand drumming against his leg. His tell for when he’s nervous.

I hop off the stool and make my way over to him. “Sure, sounds good.”

He drops down onto the couch, setting his feet on the coffee table in front of him and draping his arm along the back of it before clicking on a giant television with the remote.

For a second, I debate where to sit. But hell. This entire day has been filled with nods to our past. One more can’t hurt.

I sit beside him, but with my back against the arm of the couch and bend my knees, only to wiggle my toes underneath his thighs. His head whips around to look at me, but I keep my gaze trained on the TV.

“What do you want to watch?”

There’s a few seconds of silence before he clears his throat. “Whatever.”

I look over at him and hold my hand out for the remote. “I’ll choose three, and you choose from those?” Another old routine.

“Okay.”

We settle on one of the Marvel movies, and for the next two hours, I decide to let myself be in the past. We’re just two college kids, cuddling on a couch, laughing about a movie and eating pizza.

It’s comforting, nostalgic, and so easy to fall back into who we used to be.

By the time the movie ends, we’ve switched positions, and my head is resting on his shoulder.

His arm is still along the back of the couch, as if resting it on me would be a step too far for both of us.

Kai turns the TV off, but neither of us moves right away.

“I guess I should go.”

He shifts and makes a noncommittal grunting sound.

But I should. Things are getting mixed up in my head, and lines are getting blurred.

I lift myself away from his chest and off the couch. But as I’m going to the door, my gaze catches on a familiar black spine sticking out from under a stack of books set on a shelf of his bookcase.

“You still draw?” I ask, moving over to pick it up with a smile building on my face. “Can I see what you’ve done lately?”

“No!” Kai leaps over the couch in a move that makes it clear he’s the athlete in the room. He snatches the sketchbook out of my hands and backs away, his eyes wild.

“Woah. Okay, sorry.” I try to keep the hurt from my voice but it’s impossible. I knew he kept his sketching a secret from his family, but never from me. Until now, I guess.

“I just…it’s not…ah, fuck.” His face falls in defeat. I step toward him, my hand lifting to cup his cheek.

“Hey, it’s fine. I’m just glad you still draw. I know it used to relax you.” He turns his head away from my touch.

“I never stopped.” His shoulders lift and fall slowly before he turns back and hands me the sketchbook.

I stare at his face, lines of tension running through him. “Kai. I don’t have to see them. I realize things are different between us and it was wrong of me to presume you’d still be comfortable sharing them with me.”

“You can look at them.” His hoarse whisper is full of an indescribable emotion.

Slowly, I open the book, flipping to a random page. My heart stops, then starts again, pounding in my chest. I turn the page. Then another. And another.

“I couldn’t stop drawing you.”

Page after page is filled with sketches of me.

“It’s not, like, creepy or anything,” Kai hurries to say.

“I have other sketchbooks filled with other shit. But that one…” He trails off, rubbing the back of his neck like he’s the one who feels uncomfortable, and not me, the one who just found a book full of drawings of myself.

He exhales a slow breath through his mouth.

“Drawing you centered me. More than anything else. If I was fighting the yips or just having a shit day, sketching you brought things back into perspective. It doesn’t make sense, I can’t explain it, but it just did. ”

I stare at him, the sketchbook still held tightly in my hands. If what he says is true, then that means… Well, to be honest, I don’t think I want to dig too deeply into what it means.

Because the unavoidable truth is that my life and Kai’s are still entwined. Even after all these years and all the heartache. He never fully let go of me.

The question is, did I ever fully let go of him?