Chapter 10 #2
“Yes, I’m wearing ugly shoes. Jesus, what is with everyone?” I mutter that last bit under my breath, heat creeping up my neck.
Although I’m almost positive he heard anyway.
His brow lifts slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching as though he’s trying not to laugh.
“You’re welcome,” he says lightly, and with the same posh cadence as Christian. “It was nothing.”
“Well, it meant a lot to me,” I say, trying to regain some dignity. “So… thank you.”
Liam’s expression doesn’t change much, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—understanding, maybe.
“No need to thank me,” he says after a pause. “Take care of yourself, kid.”
Kid? Seriously?
“I will,” I reply, though even I don’t sound convinced. I turn to leave, but his voice stops me.
“You should be thanking Kai too.”
His words make me freeze. I turn back, confusion knotting my thoughts.
Kai Steele?
I stare at Liam, waiting for the smirk, the part where he says he meant a different Kai.
“Kai?” I repeat, slower. “As in… Kai Steele?”
Liam raises an eyebrow. “You know another one?”
“I mean—no, but…” My voice trails off. “He wasn’t the one who brought me to the medical wing.”
“He asked me to take you,” Liam says, and I don’t miss the finality in his voice.
Liam must see the confusion written all over my face, because he gives me a lazy smile, tilting his head slightly. “You were unconscious on the floor. What did you expect us to do, step over you?”
I open my mouth, then shut it again.
Because, actually, yeah. Something like that.
“Yes, but —” I start, voice catching somewhere between confusion and disbelief.
“But nothing,” he says gently, not unkind. “Any decent person would’ve done the same.”
My lips press together, but I don’t respond.
Because I don’t know how to.
Instead, I just stare at him, trying to make it make sense, and he just smiles. Smiles like he hasn’t just rearranged something in my chest.
He says it like he’s not the reason I didn’t wake up to a dozen phones in my face.
I open my mouth to say something else, but I don’t even know what the next question is. Liam just flashes me another grin, one that has probably got him out of real trouble before and starts backing away.
“Don’t overthink it,” he says with a wink. “I’ll be seeing you.”
And just like that, he’s gone.
Leaving me with about five new questions, two shaky legs, and one name stuck under my skin like a splinter.
Kai Steele.
***
The café is bustling when I burst through the doors, slightly out of breath. My eyes scan the room until I spot Rick behind the counter. Relief washes over me as I hurry toward him.
“Rick! I made it exactly on time!” I say, panting. “Can you believe it?”
“That’s impressive, Addie,” he says, grinning.
He should be proud.
Considering I literally sprinted here again. I manage a sheepish smile at his praise. But before I can catch my breath fully, I spot Camille rushing toward me, her face brimming with excitement.
“Addie! Tell me everything about your new school! Are the teachers nice? Is the caféteria food as good as they say it is? Did you meet anyone?” she fires off in one breath.
“Hold on, Camille,” I say, holding up my hands. “Let me get through my shift first. I promise I’ll tell you everything after.”
She pouts but nods, retreating to help at a nearby table. Rick hands me a tray of food and gestures toward table four. “She’s been waiting a while,” he says.
As I approach table four, my eyes fall upon the girl who sits there, engrossed in her textbook.
A girl who looks around my age, probably a bit younger.
Her long brown hair falls in soft waves, framing her face, but it’s her eyes that catch my attention.
Amber, almost golden, and shimmering in the light like liquid sunshine.
There’s something achingly familiar about her, though I can’t place where I’ve seen her before. Strange.
She’s completely absorbed in her studies, her brows furrowed in concentration. It’s obvious that she’s deeply invested in her work, yet her leg bobs up and down with restless energy.
She’s nervous.
I clear my throat. “Excuse me. I have your order.”
She looks up, momentarily breaking free from whatever it is she’s studying. “Thanks,” she says curtly, her tone distant.
Before I can stop myself, I ask, “Studying?”
Why do I always do this? I internally scold myself for starting another pointless conversation.
I’m so pathetic it shocks me.
She nods, her focus already drifting back to her book. “Maths.”
She’s clearly advanced. Pages and pages filled with equation after equation. I don’t even understand some of it.
“Oh, I love Maths,” I say, my enthusiasm slipping out before I can rein it in. Her gaze lifts, mildly surprised, but her expression doesn’t soften.
“It’s alright,” she replies flatly, flipping a page.
“Well, happy studying,” I say, feeling the awkwardness settle over me and making me a little nervous.
“Thanks,” she says, her attention already elsewhere.
As I turn to leave, her phone rings. She answers it quickly, her voice low and clipped. Something about her changes—her posture stiffens, her leg bounces faster under the table. When she hangs up, there’s a storm in her expression—frustration, weariness, and something else.
Fear.
I glance away, reminding myself it’s none of my business. But when I look back, her table is already empty.