Chapter 33
Summer's POV
"If he doesn't burn out first. My cousin was on the competition track and she said it's brutal. Kids drop out all the time."
I wanted to scream at all of them. Kieran wasn't going to burn out. He was going to win because he had to, because his entire family's future depended on it, because he'd already sacrificed so much that failure wasn't an option.
But I couldn't say any of that without revealing things he'd never want me to share.
So I sat there, silent and useless, while they gossiped about him like he was some kind of fascinating science experiment instead of a person.
---
By Thursday, I'd made a decision.
I was going to find him. I was going to thank him properly for the notes. I was going to give him the chocolates I'd been carrying around for days like some kind of talisman.
And I was going to do it before I lost my nerve.
The last period before lunch was English. Ms. Peterson was droning on about The Great Gatsby—something about the green light and unattainable dreams—and I couldn't focus on a single word.
The chocolates were in my bag. I'd written and rewritten the card so many times that I'd finally just scribbled Thank you for the notes. You're amazing. and called it good enough before I could overthink it into oblivion.
At 11:40, I raised my hand.
"Yes, Summer?"
"Can I use the bathroom?" My face was already burning. "I—"
Ms. Peterson's expression softened with understanding. "Of course, honey. Take your time."
I grabbed the hall pass and practically ran out of the classroom, my face flaming because apparently everyone thought I'd started my period when really I was just catastrophically bad at lying.
The bathroom was empty. I locked myself in a stall and stood there for ten seconds, breathing hard, trying to calm my racing heart.
You can do this. Just give him the chocolates. Say thank you. It's not that complicated.
Except it felt complicated, because every time I thought about seeing him, my chest got tight and my hands started shaking and I couldn't figure out if this was gratitude or something else entirely.
I left through the side exit and half-walked, half-ran across the quad toward the admin building, staying in the shade of the oak trees where fewer people would see me. My white uniform shirt was sticking to my skin, and I could feel my mint green sports bra shifting slightly under the fabric—I'd worn it because the regular ones felt too constricting when I was this nervous, but now I was paranoid that the straps were visible at my neckline.
The admin building loomed ahead, all red brick and tall windows. I ducked into the shadow of the bulletin board overhang and tried to catch my breath.
That's when I heard voices.
"—seriously, man, MIT's summer program would look insane on your apps. We could room together, hit up Boston on weekends—"
"Can't afford it, Logan."
"Dude, there's financial aid—"
"I said no."
I pressed myself against the wall, heart hammering. That was definitely Kieran's voice, flat and final.
Then Logan's laugh, bright and teasing. "Okay, okay, I'll drop it. Hey, speaking of upgrades—you've got a visitor."
Footsteps. I barely had time to panic before they appeared: Logan with his arm slung over Kieran's shoulders, Kieran shrugging him off with obvious annoyance.
Then Logan saw me and whistled low. "Damn, Cross. Upgraded from study hall to lunch-hour ambushes. I'm impressed."
My face went nuclear. I was suddenly, horrifyingly aware of how I must look—flushed and disheveled from running, my shirt collar slightly askew, probably sweaty and gross and—
Kieran moved.
One second Logan was leering at me with that stupid grin, and the next Kieran had shifted sideways, positioning himself directly between us. Blocking Logan's view.
"Go," Kieran said quietly. "I'll catch up."
Logan's eyebrows shot up, but he was smart enough not to argue. "Yeah, alright. See you in the lab, man." He shot me one last curious look before disappearing around the corner.
And then it was just us.
Kieran stood there, backpack slung over one shoulder, looking at me with those sharp gray eyes that always made me feel like he could see straight through every defense I'd ever built.
He started walking. Fast.
I had to jog to keep up. "Kieran, wait up—"
He didn't answer, but he slowed down. Just slightly. Just enough that I could match his pace without completely humiliating myself.
My lungs were burning. "Please, I just—I wanted to—"
He stopped abruptly and I almost crashed into him.
We were standing in the narrow corridor between the admin building and the library, shaded by overgrown ivy, private enough that no one would see us unless they were specifically looking.
"What do you want, Summer?"
His voice wasn't mean. Just... tired. Like he'd been expecting this and dreading it in equal measure.
I fumbled in my bag and pulled out the chocolates. The pink package caught the filtered sunlight, the Japanese and English text visible: Light as snow, sweet as a kiss.
"I wanted to give you this." My hands were shaking. "For the notes. They really helped, and I just—I wanted you to know that I—"
"I don't eat sweets."
The rejection was immediate and automatic, like he'd been practicing it.
But I didn't lower my hand. "Just take it. Please."
He stared at the package, then at me, then back at the package. Something flickered across his face—uncertainty, maybe, or longing—before his expression locked down again.
His fingers brushed mine as he took the chocolates. Just barely, just for a second, but it sent electricity racing up my arm.
He looked down at the packaging, at the words sweet as a kiss, and his ears went red.
The silence stretched between us, heavy and charged.
Then he spoke, and his voice was different—softer, almost confused. "Why did you leave class early?"
I blinked. That wasn't what I'd expected him to ask.
In my first life, he'd asked me questions like this all the time. Interrogations disguised as concern, checking up on me, making sure I wasn't doing anything that would embarrass him or step out of line.
But this didn't sound like that. This sounded like... like he actually wanted to know.
"Because you don't come back to homeroom anymore," I said quietly, not looking at him. "And I missed you."
The words hung in the air between us.
Kieran went very, very still.