Chapter 48
KAI
Another night of bad fucking sleep because of Alex Taylor.
My worry didn’t let up for a second. I kept rereading his text - I’m fine. See you at school.
It was always the same with him.
I’m fine.
I don’t need help.
Don’t worry about me.
He was the kind of person who would reassure you he was okay even while he was drowning. And that was exactly why my stomach wouldn’t settle, why my mind kept racing like it was trying to outrun something. Because I wasn’t going to let him drown.
Not if I could help it.
When sleep finally dragged me under, it didn’t help. I woke up more confused than when I’d closed my eyes. Not because of the worry - though that was still there, humming under my skin - but because of the dream.
Alex had been in it.
And not in the usual way, not the way he haunted my thoughts during the day. This was different. He was in my bed, close enough that I could feel the warmth of him. His hair had fallen across my chest, soft and messy, and he’d been tucked into my arms like he belonged there.
Then he’d looked up at me.
…And kissed me.
And the worst part was that I’d liked it.
More than liked it.
It had hit me low and warm and terrifyingly real.
My alarm went off, dragging me out of it, and I jolted upright, breath catching, and my whole body felt wired, unsettled, like the dream had followed me into the waking world.
I scrubbed a hand over my face, trying to shake it off, but the feeling lingered - that swirl in my stomach, that heat in my chest, that sense that something inside me had shifted overnight.
I didn’t know what to do with any of it.
I’d been downplaying my feelings for him - just friends - saying it so many times it had worn itself thin.
I had friends, and Alex wasn’t like any of them.
They didn’t make my heart race. They didn’t make my cheeks heat.
I didn’t lie awake thinking about the sound of their voice. I didn’t dream about them.
And that was the part that terrified me.
My future was too important to get swept up in whatever this was. I’d worked too hard, sacrificed too much. I couldn’t afford to let one person - one boy - derail everything.
I wasn’t gay.
I couldn’t be.
Not if I wanted to get signed.
Not if I wanted to make my father proud.
But the truth was starting to slip through the cracks.
Because I didn’t think I could be without him either.
Yesterday, when I thought he hated me - when he said he didn’t want to be friends - something inside me had cracked open. It felt like someone had reached into my chest and ripped something out.
I’d never felt anything like it.
Not for anyone.
And that scared me more than anything else.
“There he is,” Callum called over my shoulder as he slung an arm around me in the car park, nearly knocking me off balance.
“Jesus, what happened to you?” I said, staring at the blue paint smeared all up the left side of his blazer. It looked like he’d been tackled by a Smurf.
“Dad painted the hallway and forgot to tell me,” he grinned, spreading his arms like he was modelling it. “So now this is my new uniform.”
I snorted. “Brings out your eyes,” I said, because it did - the exact same shade, somehow.
“D’you think?” He batted his eyelashes dramatically, tilting his head like he was posing for a magazine cover. “It’s ocean blue, lad.”
“Its stupidity is what it is… did you not smell the fresh paint?” I laughed, the sound rolling out of me before I could stop it.
Callum shrugged, completely unbothered. “I was running late. Didn’t have time to sniff walls.”
I shook my head, still grinning as we walked toward the building, his arm heavy and familiar around my shoulders. “Is that something you normally do then?”
“If I have time,” he said dramatically, lifting his chin like he was giving a TED Talk. “Nothing like a sniff of paint to start your day off right.”
“You know that can get you high,” I informed him with a raised brow, and his eyebrows shot up so fast I almost laughed again.
He stopped me with a hand to my chest. “You mean to say I’ve been forking out on drugs when I could’ve just inhaled a tub of paint?”
“I should not have told you that,” I muttered, rubbing my forehead.
“No, you shouldn’t have,” he agreed cheerfully. “Now I’m going to be standing in the corner at the next party with a glass of paint instead of alcohol.”
“You need help.” I chuckled, rolling my eyes as we stepped through the doors. “Please don’t be sniffing paint. It’s dead dangerous.” I warned.
He gasped, hand to his chest. “Danger is my middle name.”
“Your middle name is William .” I deadpanned.
“Callum William Danger Cooper,” he corrected, nodding proudly.
I shoved a hand into my blazer pocket. “That’s not how middle names work; you can’t just go adding them as you please.”
“It is now,” he said, giving me a shove with his shoulder as he strutted ahead like he’d just reinvented the concept of walking. “I’m reinventing myself. New look, new hobbies, new me.”
“Your new hobby is huffing paint fumes?” I shot back, dodging another shoulder-nudge he definitely meant to land.
“Don’t judge my journey.” He lifted his chin dramatically, like he was posing for a poster no one asked for.
I snorted, shaking my head as we joined the flow of students. “You’re an idiot.”
“And yet,” he said, slinging his arm around me again with zero shame, “you still hang out with me.”
“That’s ’cause I can’t bleeding get rid of you.” I rolled my eyes and shoved his arm off, though he only grinned wider.
“Admit it,” he said, leaning in with that smug look. “You’d be lost without me.”
“No, you’d be lost without me.” I flicked his hoodie string just to annoy him.
“Aww, aren’t they cute?” Frankie said as she came up behind us, Bryce’s arm slung lazily around her shoulders, both of them wearing matching smirks.
“Get a room, lads,” Bryce added, tapping my shoulder as he squeezed past us.
“I would, but your mum’s was taken,” Callum shot back instantly, not even looking up from where he was messing with the paint on his sleeve.
I snorted, trying - and failing - to hide it behind my hand.
“You just can’t seem to keep the women in my life out of your mouth, can you?” Bryce said, narrowing his eyes as he stepped in front of us.
“I wish the women in your life were on my mouth,” Callum said, puckering his lips dramatically and leaning forward like he expected applause.
Frankie recoiled, scrunching her nose. “Ew. You’re actually gross, Callum Cooper.”
“What’s on my arm!” Bryce suddenly shouted, jerking back as he spotted the blue paint smeared across his blazer where Callum had bumped him.
“Ocean blue, lad,” Callum said proudly, turning Bryce’s arm like he was inspecting a masterpiece.
“What the fuck is ocean blue?” Bryce demanded, voice climbing.
“It’s a colour,” Callum replied, slow and patient, like he was explaining basic maths to a toddler.
Bryce looked ready to combust. “Someone explain to me before I knock him out.”
“It’s paint,” I said, laughing as Bryce stared at his blazer like it had personally betrayed him.
“Paint?” Bryce repeated, horrified. “Why have I got paint on me?”
“Because you touched me,” Callum said, shrugging like it was obvious. “I’m basically a walking art installation.”
“You’re a walking disaster,” Frankie muttered, folding her arms.
“You said masterpiece wrong,” Callum pointed, winking as he flicked a bit of dried paint off his sleeve like he was dusting off an award.
Bryce groaned, rubbing at the stain like friction alone might erase the trauma. “I swear, Cal, one day-”
“One day what?” Callum grinned, leaning in with way too much enthusiasm. “You gonna serenade me? Sweep me off my feet? Confess your undying love?”
“Mate, I’d rather lick the paint off your blazer.” Bryce deadpanned.
“Careful,” Callum mused, wiggling his eyebrows as he tapped the paint patch. “I might let you.”
Frankie shoved him sideways, nearly knocking him into me. “Stop flirting with my boyfriend.”
“I flirt with everyone,” Callum declared, throwing an arm around both of us like he was the star of his own sitcom intro. “I don’t believe in discrimination.”
“You’re sick,” Frankie said, rolling her eyes as she adjusted her bag higher on her shoulder.
“You’re right. I am sick. I think I need mouth-to-mouth,” Callum said, clutching his chest dramatically and staggering a step like he was auditioning for a medical drama.
“It’s a miracle you’ve made it this far without being knocked out,” I said, shaking my head as we walked, though I couldn’t stop the laugh that slipped out.
“I don’t mind being the first,” Bryce taunted, nudging him with his elbow.
“Your girlfriend, maybe,” Callum shot back instantly, “but you don’t stand a chance.”
Bryce rolled his eyes, but Frankie looked smug, like she’d just won something.
“Did you like that one?” Callum asked her, raising his brows like he was waiting for applause.
“Shut up,” she said, punching him on the arm playfully.
Callum recoiled dramatically. “Your girlfriend just assaulted me,” he whined, pointing an accusing finger at her.
“Well done, babe,” Bryce said, leaning in to kiss her on the lips. “I knew there was a reason why I chose you to be my girlfriend.”
“You chose me?” Frankie pulled away, eyebrows shooting up. Callum snickered behind his hand.
“What, like I’m just some toy you picked up in the shops?” she said, folding her arms and giving Bryce the kind of look that made him visibly rethink his life choices.
“She’s an independent woman, lad. Can’t be saying that,” Callum commented, shaking his head like he was disappointed in Bryce’s entire existence.
“Shut up, Callum,” they both said at the same time.
Callum grinned, delighted. “Look at that. Unity. I bring people together.”
“No, you bring headaches,” Frankie said, nudging him with her shoulder.
“And paint fumes,” Bryce added, turning his nose up at the blue smear on his blazer.
Callum gasped. “I bring colour into your lives. You’re welcome.”
“You bring chaos,” I said, laughing as we pushed through the doors.
“Chaos could be a colour,” Callum insisted, pointing at his paint-stained blazer like it was a masterpiece.
“It’s not,” Frankie said deadpan.
“It is now,” he replied, winking. “And it resembles ocean blue.”
I shook my head, still laughing as we all headed to our form rooms - the noise, the teasing, the ridiculousness of it all wrapping around us like it always did.
But even as I walked, even as Callum nudged me and Bryce complained about his blazer and Frankie kept threatening to swap boyfriends if Bryce didn’t stop whining…
I kept scanning the corridors.
Just in case.
A flash of dark curls. A familiar hoodie. A shape that moved like him.
Every time someone passed, my chest tightened for a second before easing again. It was stupid - I knew it was stupid - but I couldn’t shake it.
Not after last night. Not after the way he’d ended the call or the dream that had left me rattled and restless.
So I kept my eyes open. Kept my steps slow. Kept pretending I was listening to the conversation. Because somewhere in this building was Alex Taylor.
And I needed to see him with my own eyes before my heart would settle.