Chapter 35 #3
This was going to be okay.
As I changed out of my clothes, I folded them as neatly as I could and set them on the toilet seat. The fabric was still damp and heavy in my hands. When I straightened up, the mirror above the sink caught me - and my stomach coiled.
The bruises across my torso were still there, not the deep purples anymore but fading greens and yellows, like old paint someone had tried to scrub away.
The pain had eased into a tight, stretched feeling, like taut skin that didn’t want to move.
And every time I twisted too quickly, it reminded me.
And my arms… I didn’t look at them long.
I couldn’t.
They reminded me of too many memories, each one worse than the last. Too many mistakes I was still paying for - etched into my skin like a reminder that never let me forget.
Then my eyes drifted to my face. I looked rough.
The bags under my eyes somehow looked darker under the bathroom light, but at least the scratches from the vodka bottle had healed, though that didn’t make the rest of me any easier to look at.
I didn’t know why Kai wanted to hang around with someone like me. I don’t even like being around myself. It just made zero sense to me.
When I pulled Kai’s jumper over my head, I realised just how much smaller I was than him. He’d said it was his smallest one, but it still swamped me - sleeves hanging past my hands, neckline too wide, the hem brushing my thighs. But it covered everything. It hid the marks. That was enough.
The joggers were the same - too long in the leg - but Kai was right about the drawstrings. They would do.
The tracksuit was nice. Expensive. I hadn’t realised before, but it was Ralph Lauren. And judging by his fancy house, I didn’t doubt that it was real.
I ran my fingers through my wet hair, trying to smooth it down, but strands still clung stubbornly to my forehead, so I sighed and gave up.
Once I was dressed, I let myself glance around Kai’s bathroom.
It was nice. Modern. Clean in a way that didn’t feel clinical.
A shelf on the right held neatly stacked blue towels and a dressing gown.
On the sink sat a soap dispenser and his blue electric toothbrush.
Along the mirror, a line of aftershaves and deodorants stood in a neat row, like he actually cared about where things went.
On the right, a bath that doubled as a shower, the glass still fogged slightly from earlier.
It wasn’t a huge bathroom, but it was still bigger than mine at home. And it smelled… Fresh. Not like damp walls or stale smoke.
For a moment, I just stood there, breathing in the difference.
Then I picked up my folded clothes, held them close to my chest, and opened the door.
I didn’t expect to be greeted by a shirtless Kai.
He was standing by his desk in a pair of black tracksuit bottoms, head bent over his phone as he typed something.
His Calvin Klein waistband peeked above the elastic, and a silver chain rested against his collarbone - something I hadn’t noticed before.
My eyes flicked over him before I could stop myself.
He was… built. Defined in a way that made my stomach flip.
Abs, V-lines, muscle - the whole lot. All the things I didn’t have.
And suddenly I felt even smaller in his oversized jumper.
“Oh-sorry,” I blurted, snapping my gaze away so fast my neck twinged.
He chuckled under his breath, slipping his phone into his pocket.
“It’s okay,” he said lightly, like it was no big deal, like this was normal.
Then he grabbed a black jumper from his bed and shoved it over his head in one quick motion.
“Got distracted,” he added, tugging the hem down. “Callum was blowing up my phone.”
I looked back at him once I was sure he was fully dressed. He caught my eye and let out a soft laugh.
“Wow, they’re a little big, aren’t they?” he said, his gaze tracing over the outfit - the sleeves hanging past my fingertips, the joggers pooling around my ankles.
“A little,” I said sarcastically, lifting my arms so he could see the way the sleeves dangled. The fabric swallowed my hands completely. “I feel like an idiot.” I let my arms drop, the jumper swaying around me like a blanket.
Kai shook his head, a small smile tugging at his mouth as he stepped closer to grab a towel from his chair. “You don’t look like an idiot,” he said, rubbing the towel through his hair. “You just look like you’re wearing my clothes.”
He said it casually, like it wasn’t meant to mean anything, like it was just a fact. But the words still made my stomach twist - not in a bad way, just in a way I didn’t know how to handle.
He gestured to the clothes in my hands. “Let me give those to Mum,” he said, taking them from me gently, careful not to drop anything. “I’ll find out how long dinner is.”
I nodded and watched him leave the room, the door clicking softly behind him.
Now that the panic had eased a little, I finally had the chance to properly take in his room.
It was… nice. Really nice.
A double bed sat in the middle of the room, dark wooden frame, blue bedsheets that matched the walls almost perfectly. Everything felt coordinated, like someone had actually thought about it.
On the left side was a desk - where Kai had been standing before - with a computer, a proper gamer chair, and a stack of school books pushed neatly to one side.
His dresser sat next to the bathroom door, and beside that, a matching wardrobe.
On top of the dresser was a TV, and his Xbox stood upright beside it, two controllers resting neatly next to it like they had their own assigned spots.
On the left wall was a large window with a wide sill - the kind you could probably sit on and read, if you were into that. The rain streaked down the glass, blurring the view of the cul-de-sac outside.
I walked toward the window, drawn in by the little action figures Kai had lined up along the sill.
But the closer I got, the more I realised they weren’t action figures at all - they were football players.
Little figurines, each one frozen mid-stride or mid-kick.
He had loads of them, all arranged in a neat row like they were guarding the glass.
I wasn’t big on football, but even I could name a few. Messi. Ronaldo. The obvious ones.
But one caught my eye.
Blond hair - like Kai’s, but a shade darker. I picked it up carefully, turning it around in my hand. Fields , it read on the back of the blue jersey.
Then my eyes drifted to a picture frame beside it. A photo of Kai as a kid, perched on his dad’s shoulders in a stadium packed with people. Kai was grinning, cheeks round and flushed with excitement, and his dad looked just as happy - head tilted back, mouth open mid-laugh.
The resemblance was uncanny. Same jawline. Same smile. Same hair, just a bit darker and messier. He had stubble, sure, but it was still Kai. Older. Broader. But Kai.
Wow, he wasn’t kidding when he said his dad was a big deal.
“Dinner’s going to be ready in about an hour,” Kai said as he opened the door.
I jumped so hard the figurine slipped right out of my hand and clattered onto the floor.
“Sorry,” I blurted, dropping to my knees to grab it before it rolled away.
“It’s fine,” Kai said, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. His voice was calm, not even a hint of annoyance. He crouched slightly, watching me pick it up like he wanted to make sure I didn’t panic again.
I set the figurine back on the sill, a little crooked now, and wiped my palms on the oversized jumper. My heart was still thudding from the surprise.
Kai’s eyes flicked from the figurine to me, softening just a little. “Didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, straightening up and brushing rainwater from his hair. “Mum’s just sorting the dryer. She said she’ll shout when it’s done.”
I nodded, trying to steady my breathing, trying not to look like someone who jumped at doors opening.
Kai stepped further into the room, hands in the pockets of his joggers, and glanced at the window display. “You found my dad’s one,” he said, noticing the figurine I’d dropped. His voice was quieter now, almost thoughtful.
I swallowed, unsure if I should apologise again or pretend I hadn’t been snooping.
He didn’t seem bothered. If anything, he looked… proud. Or maybe just nostalgic.
He nudged the figurine back into its proper place with one finger, then looked at me again. “You alright?”
I nodded, tugging the sleeves of the jumper over my hands. “Yeah. Just… didn’t hear you come in.”
Kai gave a small smile - not teasing, not pitying, just understanding. “I’ll stomp louder next time.”
The joke was gentle, and it loosened something tight in my chest.
“I didn’t realise how famous your dad was,” I said, pointing to the photo. “That’s a lot of people.”
“Yeah,” Kai said, stepping closer and picking up the frame. “That’s Wembley Stadium, up in London.” He brushed his thumb over the glass before setting it back down with a small smile. “There were ninety thousand people at that game.”
“Wow,” I breathed, fiddling with the cuffs of the sleeves, the fabric swallowing my hands. “How old were you there?”
“I was only four or five, but I remember it like it was yesterday.” His voice softened, and when he looked at the photo again, something shifted in his expression - a sadness flickering behind his eyes.
It reminded me of Mum sometimes, the way she’d look at old pictures when she thought I wasn’t watching.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you upset,” I said awkwardly, rubbing my thumb over the cuff of the sleeve.
“You didn’t.” Kai shook his head, eyes flicking back to the photo for a moment.
“It’s just a happy memory; that’s all.” He let out a breath, then clapped his hands together like he was physically shaking the mood off.
He crossed the room and sat on the edge of his bed, elbows resting on his knees.
“Now we’ve got an hour until dinner. What do you want to do? ”
I shrugged my shoulders.
“Fancy a game of COD?” He said as he pointed to his TV.
“Sure thing, Kballer ,” I said, smirking.
“I’ll make you pay for that.” He said with a chuckle as he grabbed the controllers and handed one to me.
“You’re going down,” I challenged, sitting beside him.
“Game on.”