Page 7

Emmie

The campus is hushed in that in-between way it gets early in the morning, the sky still soft with grey and pink streaks, the air crisp enough to sting my lungs. My legs burn. My chest aches. And still, I run.

I’ve only been doing this for a week, long enough to tell myself I’m building a new habit, short enough that it still feels like punishment. But it helps. A little. It gives me something to do when the weight of everything else gets too loud.

My trainers slap against the pavement in a steady rhythm. The campus is practically deserted, apart from the occasional groundskeeper or squirrel darting across the path. Most students are still tangled in sheets and stale alcohol, and for once, I’m grateful for the silence.

I should be proud of last night. I didn’t cry. I danced. I kissed someone who made me feel seen. I laughed, even if it was louder than it needed to be. But now, with the sunrise peeling back all my defences, the truth creeps in like a slow tide. I saw Kai leaving, with her.

Whoever she was – tall, glossy, confident in a way that said she knew exactly what she wanted, and exactly how to get it. And Kai didn’t hesitate. Not even a glance back. They seemed into each other, in a way that screamed they were familiar. Is he dating? The thought makes me sick.

My legs slow. I press a hand to my side, bending over slightly to catch my breath. My mind is already doing what it always does, trying to rewrite the moment into something that hurts less. Maybe they just talked. Maybe he didn’t even sleep with her. Maybe.

But I saw his mouth on hers. I saw the way he let her pull him through the crowd. Not giving him a single reason to stay.

I groan softly and straighten up, dragging my sleeve across my damp forehead.God, why does it still hurt?

I kissed Landon. He kissed me. And for a second, I almost let myself believe it meant something. That maybe I could shift all my messy feelings for Kai onto someone kinder. Safer.

But that kiss felt like a plaster on a bullet wound. Messy and temporary. Landon deserves better than being my rebound and I deserve better.

“Shit,” I breathe. I spot him before he spots me. Kai.

He’s stepping out of one of the dorm buildings, hoodie unzipped, hair a total mess. The kind of mess that doesn’t happen from sleep, it happens when you’ve been wrapped around someone all night. He runs a hand through it absently, eyes squinting in the morning light.

He looks like regret and recklessness all rolled into one.

I freeze for half a second, then turn hard, feet already pivoting in the opposite direction. My heart slams against my ribs, but I don’t care. I’m not doing this. Not today.

But I hear it – his voice. Not loud, but enough to stop me in my tracks. “Emmie.”

I curse under my breath. My shoulders tense.

Slowly, I turn.

He’s standing a few feet away now, hands stuffed into his hoodie pockets, the tiredness in his eyes too real, too raw. He looks just as wrecked as I am. We stare at each other in the soft morning light. The silence stretching out until I shift uncomfortably.

“Didn’t expect to see you up,” he says, his voice rough with sleep or maybe a hangover.

I swallow. “Yeah, well. Some of us like to be productive before noon.”

A hint of a smirk touches his lips, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Since when do you run?”

“Since I needed to stop thinking.”

His gaze drifts down to my trainers, then back up. “You look good,” he says quietly, almost as if he didn’t mean to say it out loud.

I scoff. “Is that supposed to be sarcastic?”

He winces but doesn’t back down. “No, of course not. I’m just,” he sighs heavily. “Never mind.”

I cross my arms over my chest, suddenly too aware of how sweaty I look. “Did you have a good night?”

His jaw ticks. “Is that what you really want to ask?”

I meet his eyes and hate how much it still pulls at me. “No. But it’s the only one I’ll get an honest answer to.”

He hesitates, like he wants to say something else. Something bigger. But instead, he just nods once. “Yeah. It was a good night.”

“Right.” I shift a step backward. “Well. Enjoy your walk of shame.”

I turn, hating the feel of my pulse beating rapidly in my throat. Things are so awkward between us, as if whatever we felt, I felt, never happened.

“Em.” I stop but don’t bother turning to face him. His voice is quieter this time. “Is that real? With Landon?”

I turn just enough to look at him over my shoulder. “Does it matter?”

He gives a slight shake of his head before adding, “I know I’m probably the last person you want to see,” he starts.

“And you’ve got every reason to hate me.

To walk away. But . . .” He trails off and rakes a hand through his already-messy hair.

When he looks back at me, it’s not with that flirty charm or smug confidence.

It’s with something I’ve only seen flashes of before.

Honesty. “Will you meet me for coffee?” he asks.

I blink; unsure I heard correctly. “What?”

“Coffee,” he repeats, a little surer this time. “No games. No expectations. I just, well, I need you to hear me out. Just once. That’s all I’m asking.”

I laugh, but it sounds hollow. “You think I owe you that?”

“No,” he says, quickly. “You don’t owe me a damn thing. I get that. But I’d really like the chance to talk. For real. Not at a party. Not when we’re both pretending it doesn’t hurt.”

My throat tightens, and I hate how badly I want to say yes. Even after everything. Even after watching him walk away with someone else. I shake my head slowly, trying to ground myself. “Why?”

He looks straight at me, unflinching. “Because last night made me realise, I’ve been pretending I don’t feel things that I do. And I’m tired, Em. Tired of pretending.”

The air stretches between us, thick with everything unsaid. I should say no. I should run until my legs give out, but instead, I nod. “Okay,” I whisper. “One coffee.”

His shoulders drop a fraction, as though I just gave him oxygen. “I’ll text you,” he says.

I hold his gaze for a moment longer, then turn and start jogging again, this time slower.

Kai

The message sits unsent in my drafts. Hey, tomorrow okay? Just coffee and a chat.

I stare at it for too long, thumb hovering, before I lock my phone and toss it onto my bed. Just coffee! What a joke. Any time I’m within a foot of her; I want to hold her and beg for her forgiveness.

I need a distraction.

Seb must read the tension on my face when I drag myself into the kitchen, because he eyes me over his bowl of cereal like I’m a stray dog that might bite. “You look like shit.”

“Cheers,” I mutter, snatching a drink from the fridge.

He chews slowly. “You know, if parties aren’t hitting the same, there’s this open class thing tonight. My friend Jules is running it.”

I raise a brow. “What kind of class?”

“Live drawing,” he says. “With her art crowd. Chill vibes. Weed, sketchbooks, probably some weird music. Thought you wanted a change.”

I arch a sceptical brow, “You’re inviting me to hang out with artsy stoners?”

He shrugs. “Better than watching you mope and pretend you’re over whatever her name is.”

“Emmie,” I mutter, and he grins.

“I knew it.”

By the time we get there, the sky’s already bruising into twilight and the studio’s pulsing with low music.

The room smells like acrylic and incense.

People sit cross-legged on scatter cushions, sketchpads resting on their knees.

It’s just how I pictured it to be and when I snigger, Seb elbows me in the side, scowling in warning to behave.

My attention is dragged to the two naked women in the center of the room. I blink. “You didn’t mention the nudity part,” I whisper.

Seb grins. “Didn’t want you to bail.”

They’re posing as if it’s the most normal thing in the world, with one lounging on a velvet chair, the other stretched out on a rug like a fucking Renaissance painting.

Seb passes me a sketchpad and a charcoal stick.

I hesitate; I don’t make a habit of drawing.

It’s one of the things my dad hated to see me doing.

He said it’d never pay the bills. But I take the offered supplies and drop down beside Seb on a beanbag.

Ten minutes in and I’ve forgotten that the women are even naked. I’m concentrating so hard on drawing their lines and shading in the right spots, that I don’t notice it. Seb glances over my shoulder once and mutters, “Damn, you’ve got a good eye.”

Someone cracks open a bottle and offers it around. It smells of nail polish remover as I take a swig and wince, restraining against the urge to gag.

The girls take a break, and someone changes the soft music to something with a little more bass.

A few of the other artists drop their sketch pads, stretching as they follow one another from the room, lighting up joints.

The smell of weed wafts back through the room but before we can follow, one of the girls grabs Seb and pulls him into a tango style dance.

I smirk, taking another swig from the bottle as the other girl crawls into my lap, laughing and brushing my hair out of my face like she’s always known me.

“This is fun,” she purrs.

I smile, because I’m supposed to. But it’s not real. Not really. And as I knock back more of the homemade vodka, the room begins to float away, and I allow my head to fall back. She takes the bottle, drinking a few mouthfuls before giggling. “That’s strong.”

I bring my head back up as she climbs over me.

A sheer material is wrapped over her shoulders, but she doesn’t seem to care she’s naked as she leans closer, pressing her mouth to my ear and whispering, “You’re hot.

” All I can think about is Emmie’s reaction if she were here.

I’d definitely earn an eyeroll. “The second you walked in the room, I imagined this,” she whispers, touching my cheek gently until we’re eye to eye, before sealing her lips over mine.

I kiss her back, my hands travelling over her shoulders and up into her hair as I tug her even closer.

I want this. I repeat it over in my head.

The vodka’s burning through my veins, and she’s warm and soft and already moaning into my mouth like she can’t get enough of me.

She grinds against me, breathy moans slipping from her parted lips as I nip the skin along her collar bone.

Her hands grip my belt, and she begins to tug it open.

And then it hits me; I don’t want this. Not her.

Not someone else that means nothing but a quick, empty fuck.

I still her hands and she glances up; her cheeks flushed from excitement.

I give my head a slight shake and she frowns. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just need,” I scrape my fingers through my hair. “I need some air.”

She doesn’t argue, instead giving me a crooked smile like she’s seen this before, as if I’m not the first guy to lose his nerve after the third shot of nail-polish vodka.

She leans in and presses one last kiss to the corner of my mouth before slipping off me, and vanishing into the haze of incense and strobe lights.

I stumble outside. The air is cool and sharp.

I lean against the wall, dragging my hands over my face and for a long moment I stare up at the stars.

They don’t look how they used to. Nothing does since Emmie.

I groan, pulling out my mobile. I open up the text from earlier, the one I never sent, and hover my finger over the button.

It’s clear I can’t move forward until I’ve spoken to her, and so I hit send before I can talk myself out of it.