Chapter 9: The Wrong Conclusion
The afternoon sun glared off Kai’s car door as Jennie pushed it open, the heat rising in shimmering waves from the asphalt. Her skin felt tight, a thin veneer over the simmering unease.
“You sure you don’t want me to walk you?” Kai’s voice was a practiced smoothness, all surface and no depth.
“It’s just the library,” she said, forcing a smile that made her cheeks ache. “I’ll be fine.” She shifted her bag higher on her shoulder, a reflexive shield.
His hand was on her then, a proprietary weight at the small of her back as she straightened up. It lingered, the pressure firm and unwelcome. He leaned in, his cologne—something expensive and woody—overpowering the scent of dry grass and hot concrete. “Call me tonight. Your dad mentioned dinner this weekend. We should coordinate.”
His breath was warm against her ear. She nodded stiffly, a single jerky motion. “Sure.”
Across the parking lot, movement caught her eye. A familiar figure, tall and lean, walking from the direction of the gym.Leonid. A volleyball was tucked under his arm, a white towel draped over his neck. He was laughing at something, head thrown back, the sun catching the sharp line of his jaw.Then he saw her.
His steps slowed. The laughter died on his face. His eyes, from this distance dark and unreadable, shifted from her to Kai’s hand, which was still resting on her back, to the sleek, aggressive lines of the sedan.
Jennie’s breath hitched. She took a half-step away from Kai, dislodging his hand. Her own hand lifted, a tiny, instinctive wave. A real smile, unguarded and relieved, broke through her carefully constructed composure. Leo.
Across the expanse of shimmering cars, his expression didn’t change. It simply shut down, like a screen going blank. The warmth, the openness she’d felt under the blanket just hours before, vanished. His gaze swept over her one last time, cool and detached, then he turned sharply on his heel.
He didn’t look back.
He walked toward the gym doors, his stride long and purposeful, his shoulders a straight, rigid line against the bright sky. He shoved the door open with a force that seemed to vibrate across the lot, and then he was gone, swallowed by the building’s dark interior.
“Friend of yours?” Kai’s voice pierced her daze.
She blinked, her smile frozen and stale on her face. The spot where Leonid had been standing felt like a physical emptiness. “An old one,” she murmured, the words tasting like ash.
She spent the next three hours in the library, but the words on the pages bled into nonsense. Her phone lay face-up on the desk, a silent accusation. She sent a text, her thumbs clumsy.Saw you earlier. That was just Kai. My dad’s friend’s son.
It showed as delivered.
No reply.
She waited five minutes, the fluorescent lights humming overhead. She typed another. Last night… are you okay?
Delivered.
The blue bubbles sat there, inert. She imagined her words floating into the void of his pocket, ignored.
A cold, creeping dread began to settle in her stomach. It was a familiar feeling, one she’d spent years perfecting—the ache of watching him from a distance, the certainty that he was moving in a world she couldn’t touch. But this was different.This was after. After the warmth of his skin, the softness of his mouth, the whispered breaths shared in the dark. This felt like a door being quietly, firmly closed in her face.
She gathered her things, her movements automatic. The walk across campus felt longer, the golden afternoon light now feeling harsh and exposing. Every tall figure in the distance made her heart lurch, but none of them were him.
By the time she got home, the dread had curdled into a sharp anxiety. She retreated to her room, the lavender walls feeling more like a cell. The photo on her nightstand—the two of them as gap-toothed children, him with an arm slung over her shoulders—seemed like a artifact from a different life. She picked it up, her thumb tracing the crack in the glass over his eight-year-old grin.
Her phone buzzed. Her heart leaped into her throat.
It was a notification for a psychology seminar.
She threw the phone onto her bed, a surge of frustration burning behind her eyes. This was ridiculous. He’d kissed her. He’d held her hand. He’d looked at her like she was the only real thing in the room.
And now… nothing. Because of Kai? Because of a stupid, meaningless moment in a parking lot?
An old, stubborn part of her, the part that had watched him for a decade, warred with the new, raw vulnerability he’d created. The observing Jennie would wait, would orbit patiently. The Jennie he’d kissed wanted answers.
She grabbed her phone again, her fingers flying over the screen. She didn’t overthink it. I’m coming over.
She didn’t wait for a reply. She changed out of her clothes, pulling on an old hoodie she’d stolen from him years ago—a faded grey thing from some obscure band, softened by a hundred washes. It smelled faintly of her detergent now, but for a moment, pressing it to her face, she could almost conjure his scent.
She waited until the house was quiet, until the soft sounds of the evening news filtered up from the living room. She slipped out her window, the routine as natural as breathing, her feet finding the familiar footholds in the trellis. The night air was cool on her skin.
The walk to his dorm was a blur of streetlights and shadow. Her mind raced, rehearsing words that dissolved as soon as they formed. She didn’t know what she would say. She just knew she couldn’t let the silence fester, couldn’t let him build that wall again.
She stood outside his building, the concrete stairs lit by a flickering bulb. She took a deep breath, the air tinged with cigarette smoke and damp earth. This was his world—cramped, anonymous, real. Hers was lavender walls and whispered expectations.
She climbed the stairs, each step echoing in the narrow stairwell. His door was at the end of the hall, a cheap, scarred piece of wood with the number peeling off. Light spilled from the gap underneath.
She raised her hand to knock, her knuckles hovering an inch from the surface. Her heart was a frantic drum against her ribs. She could hear the low murmur of music from inside, a bassline she could feel in her teeth.
She knocked.