Chapter 20
TWENTY
Isilently pray my blush isn’t as obvious as it feels. But I can still sense the heat crawling up my neck, blooming across my cheeks.
Throwing myself into a deep, dark hole and staying there forever suddenly seems like a solid life plan.
Kai leans in closer, his eyes gleaming with a cold, sharp edge. “What was that?” he asks, and I panic.
“I didn’t say anything,” I reply, maybe a little too quickly, because my voice comes out a little too high. A little too bright.
Forget falling into a hole, at this point I’m digging myself one.
He tilts his head. “No?” His expression doesn’t change, but something in his eyes flickers. “I could’ve sworn I heard my name,” he says casually, running a hand along the spines of the books beside him. “Something about being stupidly good at everything?”
“You hear that a lot, don’t you?” I say, trying for sarcastic, but it comes out more breathless than anything else.
“Jealous?” he says, tilting his head again.
Yes.
“No,” I lie.
He studies me for a second too long, and I can’t help but feel self-conscious under his gaze.
I glance away, pretending to be interested in the shelf beside us, though my eyes don’t actually register any of the titles.
I already know none of them can teach me how to stay calm when Kai Steele looks at you like that.
And when he looks like that, it’s kind of hard not to be hyper aware of the differences between us.
Me, with my wrinkled uniform and cheap shoes, hair frizzing at the edges.
Meanwhile he looks like the kind of beauty that doesn’t belong to this world, like the earth borrowed him for a moment and forgot to take him back.
I hate that I notice. I hate that it matters to me when it usually doesn’t.
Then he shrugs, a slow, easy motion. “That’d make sense. I mean—” he lifts a hand like he’s measuring something invisible, “—it’s hard not to envy perfection.”
I snort. “Wow. You’re humble, too.”
His mouth quirks—not quite a smile, not quite not. “Though what was it you said, before?” He turns his head just slightly, as if replaying the moment in his mind. “Nothing real ever looks perfect up close?”
Then he looks at me again, properly, and it’s… different. His gaze doesn’t skim past me the way it usually does. Instead, it looks as if he’s searching for something in my face.
For a reaction, maybe?
And I don’t know what he finds, but I nod anyway. “Perfect people don’t exist. Just exhausted ones.”
I’m not even sure where it came from, or why I say it. It’s instinctive.
Kai’s gaze sharpens, his eyes narrowing in something like suspicion. But after a pause that feels longer than it is, he simply says, “Hm.”
That’s it.
Then, without another word, he lifts his hand and reaches just above my shoulder toward the shelf behind me. He doesn’t lean in. In fact, he’s careful to keep the distance between us, and his body never so much as brushes mine.
But still, I freeze.
His hand closes around a spine, fingers dragging briefly across the worn edges of the cover.
“Found it,” he says, plucking a book free.
And then he’s stepping back, book in hand, already turning away before I can ask what it is.
He doesn’t look at me again. Doesn’t offer an explanation.
He just walks off, like I was never there at all.
***
I spot Christian across the bookstore, engrossed in a classic novel. A part of me wonders if he heard or saw what happened with Kai—if he even sees anything at all past the words on the page.
Taking a deep breath, I approach him. “Are you interested in buying that book?”
He doesn’t respond immediately, flipping another page before finally glancing up. “Probably.”
I don’t even realize how much I’ve been fiddling, not until his eyes move directly to my hands. Feeling awkward, I turn to leave, assuming the conversation is over.
“You work two jobs,” Christian says, his gaze piercing yet distant.
Caught off guard, I nod. “For now. I applied for another one,” I admit.
“Your sisters work too?” he asks, his expression unreadable.
“It’s complicated,” I reply cautiously.
“That’s not an answer.”
“Not yet,” I say after a pause, feeling slightly exposed in front of him. For a moment, something like surprise flickers in his eyes, but it vanishes as quickly as it appeared.
“You’re the youngest,” he observes.
“Does it matter? Responsibility doesn’t always fall to the oldest,” I counter, drawing a breath. “Age has nothing to do with it.”
Christian gives me a faint smile, though it doesn’t convince. “In some cases, maybe. But I wouldn’t call it that.”
“So, what would you call it?” I ask.
“It’s selfish, Adeline. And if you don’t see that, you’re even more delusional than I thought,” he says before pulling out of his corner and making his way to Edna and Kai, who is already leaving with a book in his hand.
I watch Christian pay and leave, feeling a bit uneasy. Mainly because I know he’s right.
As the bell chimes, Edna looks at me knowingly. “Kai Steele, hmm? I’d be careful with that one.”
I blink. “Why do you say that?”
“People like him,” Edna murmurs, smoothing a paper beneath her palms. “They shine so bright you can’t help but look.” Then she meets my eyes. “But people in the spotlight burn faster than the rest of us.”
A pause.
“And Kai Steele? That boy’s practically on fire.”
My mouth parts, something half-formed rising to the surface, something like maybe or I guess you’re right, but I never get the chance.
“The ones everyone sees,” Edna cuts in, folding the paper once, then again, “are usually the ones no one really knows.”
***
By the time I get home, I’m utterly drained. The walk back somehow feels longer than usual, and my legs ache as I step into the kitchen. As expected, Sam hasn’t prepared food for Mum—again. Sighing, I unpack the food I managed to grab with my meal pass.
I felt so guilty using the pass just for myself, so I grabbed as much food as I could carry and stuffed it all into my bag.
It’s a lifesaver. Although I must have looked like a complete lunatic taking so much.
I had fully stacked my tray with a mountain of food, and things were beginning to fall off.
The sandwiches are starting to go a bit funky, but I can’t afford to waste them. The bananas, on the other hand, have made my entire bag smell awful. I hate bananas—the smell, the taste—but Sam and Naomi like them, so I made sure to grab a few.
After sorting the food, I heat up a microwavable meal for Mum. I don’t have the energy to cook, and honestly, this will probably taste better anyway.
When I walk into her room, my heart aches. Every time I see her, she seems to become more distant, more lifeless, and it hurts so much to witness her like this. I grip the plate of food in my hand tightly as I approach her, taking a seat on the bed beside her.
“Hey,” I say softly, attempting a smile. “I brought some food for you.”
My heart sinks at the sight of empty alcohol bottles scattered all over the place. I know she’s been drinking for a while, and not just drinking, but doing other things too.
My mother doesn’t even bother looking at me, and it feels like she doesn’t even hear my voice.
“Mum?” I ask again, my voice wavering slightly.
Finally, her eyes lift to meet mine, and the sadness in them makes my throat tighten.
There’s something else there too, something I see every time I look at her nowadays.
It’s in the way her gaze flickers, in the way her lips press together like she’s holding back words she’ll never say.
Blame.
It’s always there, lurking beneath the surface, even if she doesn’t say it outright. And maybe she doesn’t need to. I feel it nevertheless.
I take a deep breath, trying to push aside the sadness and disappointment. “I got a new job at the bookshop today,” I tell her, trying to inject some enthusiasm into my voice and failing miserably. “A-and I… I made some friends.”
Her lips twitch, and for a second, I think she might actually smile. “That’s good,” she says quietly. “Are they treating you right?”
“Yeah, they’re great,” I reply, nodding too quickly. “They even offered to go shopping with me. Can you believe it?”
She nods, her gaze drifting away again. “Good to hear,” she murmurs.
I fiddle with my fingers, trying to think of something else to say, something that might connect us, even just for a moment. “After you eat, would you like to go on a walk with me?” I suggest tentatively. “Just around town. It would be good for you.”
She doesn’t answer right away, and I already know what she’ll say.
“Maybe another time,” she says finally, her voice distant.
Another time. It always means never, but I still ask. Every single time, I ask.
I don’t know why I keep hoping.
“You could braid my hair,” I blurt out, desperate to keep her here.
Her eyes meet mine, and for a moment, there’s a spark of recognition. I grab the hairbands from my wrist and hold them out to her. “You always used to braid my hair before school.”
She takes the hairbands, her movements slow. “Okay,” she says softly.
Relief washes over me as she reaches for my hair. Her fingers are a little shaky, but they work with the same gentle precision as always. I close my eyes, letting myself savor the moment.
When she finishes, I reach up to touch the braid, my fingers brushing against the strands she’s woven together. “Thanks,” I say, a smile pulling at my lips.
She doesn’t respond. Her gaze has drifted again, back to wherever her mind takes her these days.
And I place the plate of food on the bedside table, hoping that she’ll eat it later, but knowing she won’t.
***
As I step out of my mother’s room, I’m surprised to find both Sam and Naomi standing there. Sam’s arms are crossed, her usual scowl etched deep into her face. Naomi, on the other hand, gives me a sheepish “sorry” face.
“What?” I ask, feeling a bit defensive.