Page 46 of Fault Line

When we arrive at the Surfbreak, the bar’s already swarming with people, and I quickly lose sight of my buddies as they scatter in different directions.

I scan the room, hoping to catch a glimpse of Kaia out here tonight, but she’s nowhere to be seen. Naturally, I shouldn’t have assumed that Rai would play matchmaker again. Nonetheless, I’m slightly disappointed as I head to the back of the bar solo.

Before I can even take the first sip of my beer, though, a striking redhead approaches me, clad in a dress that could barely pass for a napkin. “Hey there,” she croons, sliding onto the stool beside me. “I was at your game tonight. You were amazing out there.”

I force a polite smile, hoping she’ll take the hint and back off. “Thanks,” I mutter, attempting to dissuade her advances.

Unfortunately, my lack of charm must be lost on her because she leans in closer and runs her fingers up my arm. “So, what are you up to after this?” she purrs, her lips strikingly close to my ear.

If this were a few weeks ago, I might’ve been down. She’s smoking hot and clearly not one to play coy. But right now, my thoughts instantly drift to Kaia, and I feel a twinge of guilt.

We’re not technically in any sort of relationship, but I’m already loyal to her in a sense. There’s no way I could betray that by hooking up with someone else. Not now, not when my mind is still so fucking fixated on the girl.

“Not sure,” I say, trying to keep it vague. “I might just head home.”

Red doesn’t seem to take the hint, though. She persists with her flirtatious banter, and her touch unsettles me. I try to brush her off and focus on the bar, but it seems like every time I glance up, another girl’s heading my way, each one more determined than the last. I don’t want to be rude, but I also don’t want to lead them on.

I’m not interested, and I definitely don’t want any whispers of this getting back to Kaia.

As the night drags on, I withdraw further. I nurse my singular drink, trying to blend into the background, hoping the girls will catch on and leave me alone. But they don’t. They surround me like moths to a flame, and I grow more and more uneasy.

Enough is enough. I drain the last dregs of my beer, get up, and make my way out of the bar. The other guys can catch their own ride home.

On my way back to the house, I can’t help but feel let down. I’d secretly been hoping that Kaia might show up after all, but no such luck. Instead, I spent the night batting off unwanted advances from other girls.

I know, it’s not something I have any right to complain about. Because she’s not mine, and I’m not technically hers, either.

So when I finally collapse onto my bed at home, I know I need to figure this shit out as soon as possible. Kaia and I need to establish some ground rules, define exactly where she wants this thing to go.

We tried one night to cut the tension, and it didn’t fucking work. Now, I’m cool being the guy she calls when she needs her fix, but I need to know exactly where the boundary lies. What’s the line, and how do I make sure I don’t cross it?

* * *

On Monday,I slide into my usual spot in the Calc lecture hall, at the back and across from Kaia. She’s sitting in the same place she always does, only this time, Elio’s usual seat beside her is empty.

Now that I think about it, he missed out on class last Wednesday, too. If I know Kaia as well as I think I do, then I’m certain she’s not taking his absence in stride.

The minute hand on my watch ticks closer and closer to the top of the hour, but still, there’s no sign of the kid. I feel a burst of courage, and before I can talk myself out of it, I push out of my seat, making my way toward her.

She looks up, her annoyance clear as she asks, “What are you doing here?”

I raise an unimpressed brow. “I think it’s pretty obvious at this point he’s not coming. Mind if I sit here?”

Her eyes narrow. “Actually, I’m still saving this seat.”

I let out a low chuckle. “You think he’s gonna show up?”

“He could.”

“And if he does, I’ll leave.”

She tilts her head with a huff. “Whatever, fine. Just don’t distract me, okay?”

I spend the next hour unconsciously pestering her, with the occasional flirtatious comment thrown in for good measure. She keeps telling me to shut up and focus, but I know she’s enjoying our little back-and-forth.

“Can you please stop talking to me?” she asks, poorly concealing a smile, her eyes darting back to her desk.

“I’m just trying to make this more interesting,” I whisper back with a grin.

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