I reread the text I haven’t sent: “Hey. We need to talk about what I saw tonight.”
From downstairs, I hear E’s laugh. That specific laugh—the one they only do when they’re a little drunk, a little reckless. The one that used to be just for me.
Maybe I’ll just stand there, in the middle of the room, and let them see me. The real me. Not the easygoing Kenzie. Not the girl who’s always fine. Just the girl whose heart is a raw, open nerve. kenzie love pov
“You’re Kenzie Love,” I whisper to myself. “You don’t beg. You don’t chase. You feel things, but you don’t let them drown you.”
But inside my chest, right now, it doesn’t feel like a safe harbor. It feels like a shipwreck. I reread the text I haven’t sent: “Hey
I set the phone down. Face-down. Because if I see the screen light up with their name, I’ll crumble. And I can’t crumble. Not yet. Not here.
Too confrontational. Delete. “Are you okay? You seemed… distracted.” Too passive. Delete. “I think I’m in love with you and it’s making me stupid.” The one that used to be just for me
My thumb hovers. My heart hammers. I can hear my own pulse, loud and uneven.