Page 10 of Watching You
Kinsley bounces ahead, her energy cutting through the chaos like a spotlight. I follow, keeping my bag close, my fingers brushing the zipper every few steps to make sure it’s still closed.
When it’s our turn, the RA hands us each a keycard and a welcome packet. I line the packet’s edges with the counter before sliding it into my tote. The RA doesn’t notice. Kane would have.
We head toward the elevators, weaving through clusters of students. The noise presses in on me, and I start counting my steps, twelve to the elevator, four to the button, six seconds until the doors open. Even numbers.Safenumbers.
Our floor smells faintly of paint and something floral from someone’s open door. The hallway is long, lined with identical doors and bulletin boards plastered with “Welcome Week” flyers.
Room 412. I slide the keycard, wait for the green light, and push the door open.
It’s small but bright, two beds, two desks, two dressers. The window overlooks a courtyard where more students are hauling boxes.
Kinsley immediately claims the bed on the right, tossing her duffel onto it. I take the one closer to the door. Easier to leave if I need to.
I set my bag on the bed and unzip it carefully, pulling each item out in the order I packed it. Tops first, then jeans, then socks. I smooth each one before placing it in the dresser, aligning the edges so they’re flush.
Kinsley’s already halfway through her unpacking, clothes spilling over her bed in a riot of colors. She hums to herself, completely unbothered by the mess.
I glance at her side of the room, then back at mine. My fingers itch to straighten her pile, but I force myself to focus on my own space.
Halfway through folding my last sweater, I hear a knock. My stomach dips before I even turn.
Kane’s leaning in the doorway, one hand braced against the frame, that same slow grin on his face.
“Need help?” he asks, holding the rest of my luggage. His eyes flick to my neatly stacked dresser drawers.
“No,” I assure quickly, maybe too quickly, as I grab my things from his hands.
He steps inside anyway, gaze sweeping the room like he’s cataloging it. “Nice setup. Very… precise.”
I turn back to my sweater, smoothing it one last time before tucking it into place. My pulse is loud in my ears.
Kinsley doesn’t notice the tension; she’s too busy wrestling with a tangled string of fairy lights. “Kane, unless you’re here to hang these, you can go.”
“I’ve got practice, actually, Kins.” His voice is casual, but his eyes are locked on me, not her.
He pushes off the doorframe, taking a slow step into the room. “Just thought I’d check in before I left.”
I keep my focus on the drawer in front of me, folding the same T-shirt twice, once to smooth the fabric, again because the first fold didn’t feel right. My pulse is too loud in my ears.
“Well, you’ve checked,” Kinsley says, still untangling the lights. “Bye.”
He ignores her, stopping just close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off him. “You settling in okay, sunflower?”
I glance up, and the corner of his mouth curves like he knows exactly what he’s doing to me.
“Fine,” I reply, but it comes out thinner than I want.
His gaze flicks to my perfectly stacked clothes, then back to my face. “Looks like you’ve got everything… in order.”
The way he says it makes my stomach twist.
Kinsley finally looks up. “Kane, seriously, go before you’re late.”
He takes a step back, but his eyes never leave mine. “See you around, Blair.”
When he’s gone, the room feels bigger, but not emptier. My hands are still on the T-shirt, smoothing thesame seam over and over, like I can iron out the way he makes me feel.
The door clicks shut, and I’m left staring at the space he just occupied.
