Chapter 42

Chapter 42


Sera POV

I pressed my forehead harder against the door, the cheap wood cool against my skin, like it could soak up the panic that was invading my mind.

Inside, Kael’s pacing had stopped it was silence now. Heavy, waiting silence that felt worse than the stomping or screaming.

My hand hovered over the knob. One twist and I would be face to face with the guy I spent weeks pretending wasn’t existing. One twist and I will have to look at him after the hallway incident—after the way his eyes had stripped me bare without even touching me.

I couldn’t do this.
The phone in my pocket was a enough reason to make me talk with Kael to prevent things from going too far.

Juliette’s photo. Her threat.

Back off, Seth. Or this goes everywhere.

If I walked in there and told him, he will surely lose it and If I don't, she is gonna send it anyway. Either way, the fuse was lit.

I sucked in a breath surpressing my fear, then pushed the door open. Kael was sitting on the edge of his bed with elbows on his knees, head in his hands.

The lamp between our beds cast a weak dim light circle over him ,his shoulders were rigid, knuckles white where they gripped his hair. He didn’t look up when the door clicked shut behind me.

My side of the room was a messy of baggy hoodies draped over the chair, men’s deodorant on the dresser, the chest binder I worn like armor all day hidden under a pile of laundry.

He knew something was wrong the second I stepped inside. He always did as if he had a radar tuned to my pulse.

“Seth.” My fake name rumbled in his throat.

I shut the door and leaned against it, arms crossed tight over my chest. “We need to talk.”

He lifted his head. His eyes were bloodshot, like he had been crying or fighting something inside his skull and losing. “Yeah? About what part? The part where you let me almost kiss you in front of everyone? Or the part where you looked at me like you wanted it?”

My stomach flipped. “Kael—”

“Don’t.” He stood up so fast the mattress springs shook. “Don’t give me the we can’t speech again. I’m sick of it.” He took one step toward me, then another, until he was close enough that I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. “Tell me you don’t feel it. Look at me and say it.”

I opened my mouth but nothing came out.

His jaw flexed. “That’s what I thought.”

He reached past me, putting his hand bracing on the door beside my head, the same cage as the hallway, but softer now. Like he was trying not to scare me.

“I’m not crazy,” he whispered. “I know what I felt and I sure as hell know what you felt.”

I swallowed. “You don’t know anything.”

“Don’t I?” His gaze dropped to my mouth, lingered, then dragged back up. “Then why are you shaking?

Because I was. Because his voice was unraveling me little by little. Because Juliette’s photo was burning a hole in my pocket and the truth was over both our heads.

I shoved past him before I did something stupid—like close the gap myself. My shoulder brushed his chest and electricity shot down my arm.

I stumbled to my side of the room, yanking open the drawer just to have something to do with my hands.

“Seth.” He said it like a plea this time.

I turned, clutching a random T-shirt like a shield. “There’s a photo,” I blurted.

“Juliette said she saw us in the hall. She sent the picture to me. She’s threatening to—”

His face went rigid. “Show me.”

I hesitated, then pulled out my phone. My hands shook so badly I nearly dropped it. He took it from me, his thumb swiping to the message.

His expression didn’t change, but something dark flickered behind his blue eyes.

“She won’t send it,” he said finally, voice flat.

“You don’t know that.”

“I know her.” He deleted the photo, then the entire thread, and handed the phone back. “She’s fishing. She just wants a reaction.”

“And if she sends it anyway?”

He stepped closer again, slow this time. “Then we deal with it.”

“We?” I laughed sharply. “There is no we, Kael. You’re—” I gestured helplessly at him, at all six-foot-two of golden boy with blue eyes and straight A. “You’re you. And I’m—”

“You’re what?” His voice dropped. “Say it.”

I couldn’t. The words stuck behind my throat.

I’m not who you think. I’m not a boy— I have been lying to you the entire time, posing like your supposed roommate.

He searched my face like he could see the fracture lines. “Whatever it is, Seth, it doesn’t change—”

“Don’t say that.” My voice cracked. “You don’t get to say that. You don't know what you are saying.”

He flinched like I just slapped him.

The silence intensified, thick and unbearable. Then he exhaled, ragged, and scrubbed a hand over his face.

“I can’t do this,” he muttered. “I can’t keep pretending I don’t—” He cut himself off, jaw tight. “I need air.”

He grabbed his hoodie from the chair, yanked it on, and brushed past me. The door opened, then slammed shut behind him.

I stood there, with a shirt still clutched to my chest, staring at the empty space he left. The room suddenly felt too big.

Too quiet.

My phone buzzed again and another unknown number but I didn’t look.

I sank onto my bed, knees pulled to my chest, and tried to breathe through the panic.

I will shower when the dorm was quite and everyone has gone to sleep. I will lock the door and pray no one had a master key.

But now I just sat in the dark and waited for the fallout I knew was coming.