Page 37 of Only When We Fall

I nod. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

He studies me. “About him?”

I go still. “What?”

“Kai,” he says simply.

I blink. “Is it that obvious?”

Landon shrugs. “You get this look sometimes. You’re here, but not really.”

The way he says it, it’s not judging. It’s not pity. It’s just noticing. And suddenly I realise how rare that is. Being seen, without someone trying to fix you or pull you apart. “I’m trying to move on,” I admit.

He nods. “Then let me help.”

I raise an eyebrow. “By dancing badly?”

He smiles. “That. And this.” Before I can ask, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a half-melted chocolate bar. “I stole this from the kitchen before we left. Emergency mood booster. You look as if you need it.”

I laugh. And just like that, something shifts. Because it’s stupid and small and slightly ridiculous, but it’s alsoreal. Not a grand gesture. Not some slick line. Just a chocolate bar from someone who noticed I might need cheering up.

I take it from him, smiling despite myself. “Thanks.”

He shrugs. “Anytime.”

Kai

I stare at my phone, the text blinking back at me, daring me to be honest. My thumb hovers, heart thumping way too loud for a message no one asked for. Then I hit send.

Me:Truth 10. I pretend to be something I’m not. I don’t think that’s a surprise to you, because you know me better than anyone. I hide behind popularity. It’s my superhero costume, protecting me from failure. All my life I’ve been told I’m nothing. Not important. Not clever. Not loved. My dad did a real number on me, Em. And I don’t want your sympathy, but these truths have become my therapy, so don’t reply. Just let me offload x

I toss the phone on the bed like it burned me. Because admitting any of that, it’s not something I do. It’s not somethingKai Banksdoes. I’m the guy who’s supposed to have it all together. The one who jokes too much, drinks too much, flirts too much. That’s the whole point of the mask. And if I wear it long enough, maybe I’ll forget what’s underneath.

She won’t see the message yet. Noah already told me she’s out with her housemates. Withhim.

I sink back against the pillows, jaw clenched. I should’ve told her what Landon said. But I didn’t. I told myself it was to protect her or that she wouldn’t believe me.

And guess what? She didn’t.

I told her he was bad news. She looked me in the eye and still chose to trust him over me. And I don’t even blame her. Iwouldn’ttrust me either. Not after everything.

But I’m trying now. I’mtrying. For her. And for what? So I can picture her dancing with him while I sit here bleeding words into a phone like a lovesick idiot?

God, I hate this. I hate that it matters. I hate how much of me still bends toward her like a magnet every time I pretend I’m over it. I hate that being good, beinghonest, still feels as if I’m losing. Because being the bad guy? That at least came with armour.

Now I’m just standing here with everything stripped back.

I pick up my phone again, seeing for sure that she hasn’t read it, before adding another.

Me: Truth 11. Mum leaving was where it all went wrong. It’s the first time I saw Dad lose it. He didn’t leave his room for days, only to get whiskey. He was angry and bitter, and all I had to learn from, was him. I became that way too. What kind of mother leaves her child? When Dad was drunk, he’d lecture me on women. He’d tell me to never let them close enough to con me. Then he’d say how Mum hated us both, so much so, she wouldn’t even tell us where she was. Maybe rejection, or at least the thought of it, is why I always fuck up?

The silence stretches. I stare at the ceiling, my mind working overtime. I meant what I wrote. But now that it’s out there, all I can think is;What if she rolls her eyes? What if she shows someone else? What if she doesn’t even read it at all?

My phone buzzes and my heart jumps. It’s not her. It’s a notification that Zara’s tagged her in something. I open Instagram.

The first story is blurry. There’s loud music and lights flashing, then it cuts to Emmie. She’s laughing and the sound makes me smile. Her head’s thrown back, eyes bright, hair curled around her face like a halo. And Landon’s beside her, doing some stupid dance move that makes her double over.

I watch it on loop. Once. Twice. By the third time, my jaw aches from clenching. He gets to see that version of her. The loose, open one. The one I ruined. And yeah, maybe he doesn’t know her the way I do, maybe he never read the secret messages, or saw the parts of her she keeps locked up, but he getsthis. He gets her now.

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