Chapter 8
KAI
When Callum dragged me to the shop, I expected nothing more than a quick in-and-out. What I didn’t expect was to turn a corner and slam straight into Alex Taylor - or to send him flying like he weighed absolutely nothing.
He hit the floor hard, egg exploding across him in a mess of yellow and white. For a second I just froze, staring down at him, my brain tripping over itself. It wasn’t the impact that stunned me - it was the fact that it was him .
My heart kicked up, sharp and sudden. Guilt followed right behind it, heavier than the actual collision.
Alex was already the quiet type, the kind who seemed to shrink into himself when too many eyes were on him.
And now here he was, on the ground, covered in egg because I hadn’t been paying attention.
I opened my mouth to say something, anything - but nothing came out. I just stood there, leaning over him like an idiot, trying to figure out how to apologise without making it worse.
The overhead lights caught on the mess across his shirt and in his hair, and for a moment it threw me.
Not because of the egg - but because I’d never really looked at him this closely before.
There was something unexpectedly striking about him, something that made me lose my train of thought for a beat longer than I should have.
I pulled myself together and crouched beside him.
“Are you okay?” I finally managed, my voice sounding rougher than I meant it to. I held out my hand, hoping he’d take it, hoping I hadn’t completely terrified him.
He hesitated - just for a second - then his hand slipped into mine. His grip was small, careful, and I pulled him up in one smooth motion. He was lighter than I expected, and the moment he was steady on his feet, I let go before I could overthink it.
I felt awful. But also… off-balance in a way I couldn’t quite explain.
He shifted once he was standing, rivulets of egg sliding down his cheek. The paper towels were right there in the aisle, and before I even thought it through, I grabbed a pack, tore it open, and stepped toward him.
Only after I’d already moved did it hit me - maybe he wouldn’t want me anywhere near him after I’d practically knocked him out and drenched him in egg. My hands always seemed to move before my brain caught up.
But I was already lifting the towel, already brushing the mess from his cheek with slow, careful dabs.
His skin was smooth in a way that made me pause, like the lights were softening everything about him. I held my breath without meaning to. A bit of shell clung near his eye, and I wiped it away gently. When he looked up at me, the breath I’d been holding escaped in a rush.
He stepped back quickly, and that’s when I realised just how close I’d been leaning in.
Too close. I mentally kicked myself. My legs didn’t want to move, though - they wanted to stay right there, next to him, like they didn’t care about logic or boundaries or the fact that we barely knew each other.
I wanted to be close to him.
And I couldn’t work out why.
I’d never been friends with guys like him - guys who weren’t boisterous and didn’t know their way around the pitch.
But there was something about him that made me curious.
Something in his eyes that felt like an unanswered question, like there were layers there waiting to be uncovered if someone just bothered to look.
It was strange seeing the part of him that wasn’t at school or tangled up in things he definitely shouldn’t have been mixed with. Here, he felt different. Real. And I wanted to understand that difference.
He looked away for a moment, like he expected me to walk off now that he was upright. Maybe I should’ve. Maybe that would’ve been the normal thing to do.
But I couldn’t. I’d just knocked him over and covered him in egg - the least I could do was stay long enough to talk to him.
If I was honest with myself, I wanted to stay anyway.
“So that’s why you couldn’t do today…” I said, nodding at his green uniform.
It hung off his slight frame, a size too big, like he’d been swallowed by it.
He blinked at me, confused, and I couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out.
“…for the assignment,” I reminded him. “You’re a bit of a goldfish, aren’t you? ”
His cheeks warmed instantly, and he gave this small, awkward smile that made something in my chest tighten.
“A goldfish?” he echoed, brows knitting together, eyes still cautious like he wasn’t sure if I was teasing or insulting him.
“Yeah. They don’t have the best memory. Someone said it to me once.” The words tumbled out before I could stop them. Brilliant. I’d knocked him over, drenched him in egg, and now I was calling him a goldfish.
What was actually wrong with me?
I dragged a hand through my hair, wincing internally. “Sorry - was that rude? That was rude, right? I promise I didn’t mean it as a bad thing…” I was rambling, waiting for him to cut me off, to tell me to shut up, to walk away.
But he didn’t. He laughed and told me it was fine.
A real laugh - soft and brief but real. Heaven knows why, but as soon as I heard it, my mind went completely blank.
Whatever I’d come in here for? Gone. Vanished. Didn’t matter. All I could focus on was him - the way his shoulders loosened, the way the tension melted off him for just a second, the way he looked more like himself again.
I just looked at him. Maybe too closely.
I’ve been told I stare too intensely sometimes - that I look at people like I’m trying to solve them. And maybe I am. I like understanding what makes someone tick, what they’re thinking, what they’re hiding behind their eyes.
Callum was probably wondering where I was at this stage, but my legs didn’t want to move. They didn’t want to leave him standing there alone, dripping egg down his cheek, looking like he wanted to disappear into the floor.
And maybe that was the excuse I gave myself - that I couldn’t just walk off after knocking him over. But it wasn’t the real reason.
The real reason was that something about him made me stay. Something quiet. Something I didn’t have a name for yet.
So I kept talking. Because walking away felt wrong in a way I couldn’t explain.
The way he smiled - small, shy, like he wasn’t used to anyone paying him real attention - and then looked down at the floor when he said he’d never been called a goldfish before… it did something to me. Something I didn’t have the vocabulary for.
And then he lifted his eyes again.
Just that. Just looking at me.
But it hit harder than it should’ve.
“No, I don’t suppose you have.” I laughed, the sound coming out softer than I meant it to, like he’d knocked the edge off me without even trying.
There was something about the way he existed in his own quiet orbit, something about the way he seemed surprised anyone would bother to talk to him at all. It made me want to stay. It made me want to keep him talking, keep him looking at me like that.
And I didn’t understand it. Not yet. But I felt it - a pull, subtle but unmistakable.
Like gravity, almost.
“Did you need help finding something, or…?” he asked, giving me this unsure look, like he genuinely couldn’t figure out why I was still standing there. Fair enough. I couldn’t figure it out either.
Just play it cool, Fields.
Jeez. Why did it feel like I was losing my grip on myself?
“Funnily enough, I was looking for eggs.” I gestured to the crate, mostly because I needed to look at anything that wasn’t him. My head needed a second to catch up.
What was it about him that scrambled me like this?
“Well, you found them.” He laughed - a small, soft sound - and I felt my mouth curve before I could stop it. I was smiling because he was smiling. Because he finally looked like he didn’t hate talking to me.
He picked up a box, opened it carefully, and checked each egg one by one, scanning for cracks.
Something about the way he did it - gentle, focused, almost delicate - made me hold my breath.
I felt like I was watching myself from outside my own body, like I’d stepped out of the moment and was just observing how ridiculous I must look, staring at him like he was something rare.
The overhead lights made his eyes look honey-coloured as he handed the box to me with a small smile.
“Thanks,” I said, clearing my throat as I took it.
Our fingers brushed, only lightly, but it was enough to send a spark up my arm. And for some reason, I wanted to remember it. The warmth of his skin. The softness of the touch. The way something in me reacted before I could shut it down.
I didn’t know what any of it meant yet. But I knew I didn’t want to forget it.
Then his eyes widened as someone came down the aisle asking about the mess, and something in me tightened. He looked startled, like he expected to get in trouble for something that wasn’t even his fault.
I felt this sudden, stupid urge to shield him from it.
“It was my fault,” I said before I even thought about it. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”
Only then did I turn toward the voice - and of course it had to be Alfie Preston.
Ugh. Perfect.
One of the defenders from the Westley wankers and the most argumentative little prick I’d ever met.
“Oh, it’s you ,” I drawled, squaring my shoulders automatically. My whole posture shifted without me meaning it to - bracing, preparing, like muscle memory. I could practically feel the insults loading in his mouth before he even opened it.
And behind me, I could sense Alex shrinking a little, like he wanted to disappear.
Which only made me stand a little straighter.
“What, you two know each other?” Alex asked, confusion lines visible through the mop of hair falling over his forehead. Of course he’d be confused. One minute I was talking to him, the next I was squaring up like I was about to start a match in the middle of aisle seven.