Page 17

AIDEN

I woke up feeling like someone had snuck into my room overnight and stomped all over my chest. Not physically—no, I would’ve noticed that. It was emotional damage. My brain felt overloaded, my heart a little too aware of its own beating, and every time I so much as thought about Kat, my stomach twisted like I’d swallowed a live snake.

I groaned and flopped back onto my pillow. Last night had been… intense. I wasn’t exactly the guy people went to for comfort. Sarcasm? Absolutely. Witty insults? All day. But soft reassurances and steady hands? That was new territory. And yet, when Kat had broken down, something in me had just—clicked. Like I was supposed to be there and keep her steady while her world tilted. And I had, which was terrifying.

Because now, in the cold light of day, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. The way she’d leaned into me. The way her breath hitched. The way I’d wanted to press my chin to the top of her head and tell her that she was okay and that I wouldn’t let anything happen to her. I was officially losing my mind.

A sharp knock on my door yanked me out of my downward spiral.

“Aiden,”

came a familiar voice that haunted my mind day and night. “Are you alive in there, or did your ego finally crush you under its massive weight?”

Ah, there she was. My blood pressure was back to normal. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and opened the door, only to find Kat standing there with a single eyebrow arched and a smirk on her lips.

“Good morning to you, too, sunshine,”

I say, rubbing the back of my neck. “I’d invite you in, but I wouldn’t want to expose you to the sheer devastation of my morning hair.”

Kat doesn’t even blink. “I’ve seen worse.”

I squinted, jealousy creeping in.

“Have you?”

She shrugs. “I had a figure skating partner for years. There were some dark times.”

The teasing was familiar and safe, like slipping into a favourite old hoodie. It was our thing. We bickered. We argued. It was a battle of wits where no one really won, but neither of us ever wanted to stop. It was easy. It was fun. And yet, standing here, watching her smirk at me, I couldn’t ignore the fact that something had changed.

She was still Kat—sharp, quick, and endlessly infuriating—but now I also knew the softness underneath. The vulnerability. The way her voice cracked when she was scared, the way she clung to me like I was the only solid thing in the room. I was so screwed.

“What are you doing here?”

I ask, mainly to keep myself from thinking too hard. Kat rolls her eyes.

“Wow. Rude. Maybe I came to check on you. Ever think of that?”

I blinked.

“No.”

She sighs dramatically. “Typical. Anyway, since I’m clearly wasting my concern, let’s get to the real reason I’m here. I need a ride to the store. Alina has my car, and I’m craving junk food.”

I raised an eyebrow. “And what makes you think I’m your personal chauffeur?”

“Well,”

she said, tilting her head, “for one, I asked nicely.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“For two,”

she continues as if I hadn’t spoken, “you owe me after last night.” I frown.

“Wait—how do I owe you? I was the one who—”

She cuts me off with a wave of her hand.

“Emotional labor, Aiden. You made me have feelings, and now I have to balance that out by buying junk food. I can’t do that without a ride. So, really, this is your fault.”

I stare at her in disbelief. “That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,”

I say, walking towards the dresser.

Kat grins. “And yet, here you are, grabbing your keys.”

I look down at the keys in my right hand and groan...

Damn it. She’s right.

Fifteen minutes later, we were in my car, windows down, music playing at a low volume so we could still talk. Kat had her feet propped up on the dashboard despite my half-hearted protests, and every now and then, she’d turn her head just enough that I could catch the faintest trace of a smile on her lips. It was distracting.

“So,”

she says, flipping down the sun visor and checking her reflection, “are we going to talk about it?”

I tense, refusing to look at her.

“Talk about what?”

She shoots me a look. “Come on, Aiden. Last night.”

I grip the steering wheel a little tighter.

“What about it?”

Kat lets out a sigh and turns to face me fully. “Look, I just… I wanted to say thanks. You didn’t have to stay with me, but you did. And you didn’t make it weird. So. Yeah. Thanks.”

For once in my life, my brain short-circuited. I am so used to our conversations being battles, volleys of sarcasm and wit, that hearing her say something real—something soft—makes me forget how to respond.

“You don’t have to thank me,”

I say finally, keeping my eyes on the road. “I wanted to.”

The second the words leave my mouth, I regret them. They feel too honest, too raw, like I’d accidentally left a window open and let something vulnerable slip through.

Kat is quiet for a moment. “Well,”

she says at last, “if it makes you feel better, I still think you’re a pain in the ass.”

Relief washes over me, and I let out a breath I hadn’t realised I was holding. “Good. I’d be worried if you didn’t.”

She smirked, and just like that, we were back to normal. Or at least, as normal as we could be with this new thing buzzing between us—this awareness that hadn’t been there before. I don’t know what it means. I don’t know what to do with it. But as we pulled into the store parking lot, and Kat shot me one last playful glare before hopping out of the car, I knew one thing for sure.

I like her.

And that is a problem.