Chapter 64
KAI
I didn’t know what was going on. One minute Alex was fine by my side, the next he was getting into his brother’s car. And I could feel the shift in him - could feel his breath hitch the second he saw his brother.
He was scared.
And when my eyes reached him, I saw why.
The guy looked mean. Not just rough-around-the-edges mean - the kind of mean that settles into a person’s bones. The kind you learn to recognise if you’ve ever been around someone who enjoys being feared.
Shaved hair. Leather jacket. Tattoos creeping up his neck. And he was a lot bigger than Alex - broader, taller, heavier. The kind of presence that fills a space even when he’s not trying to.
He didn’t look like someone you messed with, who expected people to move out of his way.
He wasn’t bigger than me, though - and I was quietly confident that in a straight, one-on-one, I could take him. I’d fought guys like that before. The ones who puffed their chests out, who relied on size and reputation more than actual skill. If it was fair, if it was clean, I wasn’t scared of him.
But I knew lads like that.
And fair was not how they rolled.
Still, Alex told me he was okay. He told me he’d text. And I had to believe him.
At the start of our friendship, he’d told me not to overstep. Not to push. Not to get involved in things that weren’t mine.
And if I went over there - if I said anything, if I jumped to conclusions - I was sure that would be overstepping. Majorly.
So I decided to trust him.
To let him go.
He’d been alright so far. He’d been okay without me.
He didn’t need me barging in. Didn’t need me making things worse. Didn’t need me acting like I knew better.
I only just got him, and I wasn’t going to push him away. Not now. Not when he’d finally started trusting me. Not when one wrong move could send him straight back behind those walls he kept up around everyone else.
So I swallowed the worry. Swallowed the part of me that wanted to go after him anyway.
It wasn’t long before Callum practically jumped on my shoulder, nearly knocking me off balance as he slung an arm around me.
“She said yes!” he shouted, eyes wide, buzzing with excitement. “Your boy’s got a date.”
“Oh, yeah?” I said, a grin forming despite everything twisting in my chest. “Where you taking her?”
“Carlucci’s, Friday at six.” He smiled like he’d just won the lottery.
I laughed, shaking my head, letting him pull me into his world for a second - the easy one, the uncomplicated one, where the biggest problem was whether Amanda liked red wine or white.
“See, I told you,” I said, patting him on the back. “Girls love that stuff.”
“You’re like the-” Callum paused, grinning like he’d just invented comedy. “The fanny whisperer.”
I stared at him. Flat. Unimpressed.
“Don’t ever call me that again,” I said, shaking my head.
He burst out laughing, doubling over like he’d made the joke of the century. I shoved his shoulder lightly, and he stumbled, still cackling.
“You know it’s true,” he said, wiping his eyes. “You’ve got that… vibe.” He gestured to my build loosely.
“Shut up.” I shook my head, but the corner of my mouth twitched anyway.
“You think I’ll close?” he asked, raising his brows like he was asking the most serious question in the world. “You think she’ll let me take her to Pound Town?” He winked, thrusting his hips like an idiot.
I rolled my eyes. “Not if you do stuff like that.” I pointed at his hips, turning my nose up.
“Well, if she does,” he said, waving his hand like he was painting a masterpiece, “I’ll be thinking of you.”
“Please don’t.” I breathed.
“My very own fanny whisperer.” He slung his arm around me.
“I will hit you,” I said with a chuckle, giving him a shove.
He stumbled, laughing, rubbing his shoulder like I’d actually hurt him. “You love it really.”
“I really don’t.” I countered, shaking my head again.
“You do,” he said, nudging me again, still buzzing, still riding the high of Amanda saying yes.
I shook my head, smiling despite myself. Callum’s energy was impossible to fight - loud, ridiculous, harmless. The kind of harmless that made you forget, for a second, that the world wasn’t always like that.
But even as I laughed with him, even as I shoved him back and told him to shut up again, my hand drifted to my pocket.
To my phone. To the empty screen.
Alex said he’d text. He said he was okay.
And I had to believe him.
Didn’t I?
When I got home, I sat in the car longer than I meant to, engine off, the quiet too loud around me. The street outside blurred past the windscreen - people walking, cars passing - but none of it felt real.
My thumb hovered over my phone again.
Still nothing.
No text. No call. No ‘I’m home’ or ‘I’m fine’ or even a stupid emoji.
Just silence.
I swallowed, my chest tightening. I told myself not to overthink it. Not to jump to conclusions. Not to be that guy - the one who pushes too hard, too fast, the one Alex warned me not to be.
But my hand was already unlocking my phone.
I opened our chat. Stared at the last message he sent. Read it again, even though I’d memorised it.
My fingers hovered over the keyboard.
Don’t overstep. Don’t push. Don’t make him pull away.
But the worry was louder than the rules.
I typed before I could talk myself out of it.
Are you okay?
My thumb hesitated over the send button. Just for a second. Just long enough to feel the fear twist in my stomach.
Then I hit send.
The message sat there, blue and small and too quiet.
I stared at the screen, waiting for the three dots. Waiting for anything.
But there was nothing.
Just the glow of the phone in the dark car, and the sound of my own heartbeat in my ears.
stared at it like it might suddenly answer itself. Like maybe the three dots would appear if I just waited long enough.
If I just breathed slower.
If I just didn’t panic.
He’s fine. He said he was fine.
I leaned back in the seat, exhaling through my nose, trying to settle the knot in my chest. The car felt too quiet, too still, like the whole world was holding its breath with me.
“He’s probably busy,” I muttered to myself, tapping the side of the phone. “Probably just… doing something. Shower. Homework. Whatever.”
My thumb hovered over the screen again. Still nothing.
“He’s fine,” I said again, firmer this time, like saying it with more conviction would make it true. I nodded to myself, as if that settled it. As if that made the silence normal. As if that made the ache in my stomach go away.
“He’s okay,” I whispered, letting my head fall back against the headrest. “He’s okay. He’s okay.”
But the longer I sat there, the more the quiet pressed in. The more the message stared back at me. The more the doubt crept in around the edges.
I locked my phone. Unlocked it again. Checked the screen.
Still nothing.
“He’s fine,” I told myself one last time.
But it didn’t feel true anymore.
I knew better than to trust that Alex was going to text me. We’d been through this before - the whole “I’ll be in school tomorrow” thing, followed by a week of silence and empty seats and me pretending I wasn’t checking the door every five minutes.
I couldn’t have that happen again. Not now. Not after everything.
“Fuck it,” I muttered under my breath.
Before I could talk myself out of it, before the fear of overstepping could sink its claws in again, I clicked on his name.
The call screen opened. My thumb hovered for half a second. Then I pressed it.
The phone rang, the sound filling the car, too loud in the quiet, too sharp against the thudding in my chest.
One ring. Two. Three.
My heart climbed into my throat.
I leaned back in the seat, staring at the ceiling, trying to breathe past the panic clawing up my ribs.
Come on, Alex. Pick up. Just this once.