Chapter 5: Thoughts
The cool hallway air did nothing to quell the fire in Kai’s veins. For three days, the memory of that kiss—Liam’s lips on Emma’s cheek, Emma’s closed eyes—had played on a relentless loop behind her eyes. The jealousy that had gripped her in the library felt like a foreign entity, a sickness she needed to purge. It didn’t make sense. It couldn’t be what it so blatantly was.
It was a fluke. A moment of possessive friendship, twisted by the firelight and the whiskey. That was all.
So she invited Allan over. Alone. The house was quiet, her parents at some endless charity committee dinner. This was the antidote. This was the reality she was supposed to want.
They were in the sunroom, the late afternoon light casting long, lazy shadows across the terracotta tiles. Allan was talking about a new sustainable architecture project, his hands sketching shapes in the air. He was handsome. He was kind. He was perfect.
“...and the cross-laminated timber structure would actually reduce the carbon footprint by nearly forty percent,” he said, his voice a pleasant, steady hum.
Kai nodded, forcing a smile. “That’s incredible, Allan.”
She watched his mouth as he spoke. It was a nice mouth. Well-defined. She wondered what it would feel like. Really felt like. Not the polite, expected goodnight pecks they’d exchanged, but something with intention. Something that could overwrite the other, unwanted memory.
“Kai?” He’d stopped talking. He was looking at her with a soft, curious expression. “You’ve been a million miles away all afternoon.”
“No,” she said, her voice a little too bright. “I’m right here.”
She moved before she could second-guess the impulse. Closing the small space between them on the sofa, she placed a hand on his cheek, feeling the slight stubble against her palm. His eyes widened in surprise, then softened with understanding. He leaned in.
The kiss was pleasant. It was fine. His lips were warm and dry. He was careful, respectful. She tried to lose herself in it, to focus on the solid reality of him, on the rightness of this path. She willed a spark, a flicker of the heat that had so terrified her in the library.
Nothing. There was only a hollow echo, a performance where her body went through the motions while her mind screamed in static.
The sudden, explosive sound of the front door slamming open made them jerk apart.
“Helloooo? Kai? Your housekeeper let us in, hope that’s cool!”
Emma’s voice. Of course it was Emma’s voice.
They appeared in the doorway of the sunroom, backlit by the hall light. Emma, a whirlwind of energy in a vintage band t-shirt and ripped jeans, her hair a messy halo. And Liam, hovering just behind her shoulder, a dopey, smitten grin on his face.
Kai felt a hot flush of shame, as if she’d been caught doing something illicit. She subtly shifted away from Allan.
“We’re not interrupting, are we?” Emma’s eyes danced, flicking from Kai’s flushed face to Allan’s slightly embarrassed one. She knew. She always knew.
“Not at all,” Allan said, ever the gentleman, recovering his composure. “We were just… talking.”
“Talking. Right.” Emma winked, a quick, infuriating gesture. “Well, stop talking. We’re going out. The Gilded Cage, remember? Liam got us on the list for the VIP section.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Kai started, the protest automatic. “It’s a weeknight, and I’m not really—”
“Nope. No excuses.” Emma marched into the room, a force of nature impossible to resist. She grabbed Kai’s hand, her grip firm and warm. The contact was a jolt, a direct line to the very nerve endings Kai was trying to numb. “You’ve been cooped up in this mausoleum for days. You’re coming. Both of you. It’ll be fun.”
Kai looked at Allan, who just shrugged, a good-natured smile on his face. “Could be fun,” he echoed.
She looked at Emma, whose expression was a challenge wrapped in a grin. This was a test. Another one.
Emma leaned in close, her voice dropping to a whisper meant only for Kai, laced with a teasing note that felt dangerously like a caress. “Unless you’re scared?”
The words hung in the air between them. Scared of what? The club? The noise? Or of what she might feel, what she might do, under the thrum of a beat and the cover of darkness?
Kai pulled her hand away, the ghost of Emma’s touch lingering on her skin. She smoothed her trousers, a gesture of pure habit. “I’m not scared,” she said, her voice cooler than she felt.
“Great!” Emma clapped her hands together, the sound sharp in the quiet room. “Then it’s settled. Let’s go cause some trouble.”
She turned, linking her arm through Liam’s and leading him out, already talking a mile a minute about the DJ. Allan stood, offering a hand to Kai.
She took it, letting him pull her to her feet, but her eyes were fixed on Emma’s retreating back. The hollow feeling from the kiss was gone, replaced by a familiar, treacherous current of anticipation. The night was no longer a sanctuary. It was a runway, and she was hurtling toward an edge she couldn’t yet see.