Page 8 of Only When It Breaks

Me: Pity.

Kai

I can’t lie, the text messages from my new stalker have made me smile, offsetting my earlier mood caused by Emmie.

Guests begin to arrive, so I tuck my phone away and grab crates of beer from the basement.

When I get back upstairs, Austin has already cracked open a bottle and is chatting with some of the other guys. He hands me his empty bottle, then grabs himself a new one. “Who invited the freaks?” asks Bella, sidling up beside me.

“Don’t ask,” I utter.

“Any news about your phone?” asks Henry.

“Nope.”

I take a long sip of beer, letting the fizz sting the back of my throat. The music begins from the living room, the heavy base speakers pumping out the usual dance beats Autin supplies. People are spilling into the garden, drinks in hand, voices risingover the music. And then my eyes land on her. Emmie. She’s standing by the outside bar with Ava, speaking animatedly into her ear. She looks uncomfortable, as if social interaction is her worst nightmare.

Bella follows my line of sight. “Imagine coming to a party dressed like that,” she says, smirking.

Luna giggles. “She’s so weird,” she says rolling her eyes.

“Lay off,” I mutter, moving away before she can call me out.

Austin steps in my path, “How’s it going with Bella?” he asks, wiggling his brows. I shrug, and he slaps my shoulder. “We all know she’s after you, she’s an easy lay. Why aren’t you tapping it already?” And he walks off laughing.

“You know, you should call your friends out on misogyny.” I spin around to find Emmie staring at me,judging me.

“Hi, Kai,” a girl from Maths class giggles as she passes me with her group of friends, and Emmie pretends to stick her fingers down her throat, gagging.

“I see why you never get invited to these things.”

“Right. Because I’m so hideous that everyone hates me,” Emmie retorts, her voice laced with sarcasm. “Cry me a river.” She pours some lemonade into a cup, and when she sees I’m still watching, she holds it up, “Want some? It’s not poisoned.Maybe.”

“Tempting,” I say, leaning against the counter. “But I’m more of a beer guy.”

She eyes the empty cup in my hand. “Clearly. Must be your sparkling personality keeping you hydrated.”

I smirk. “You always this friendly, or is it just me?”

“Just you,” she says, matter of fact.

There’s a long beat where we stare at each other like we’re waiting for the other to break first. She takes a slow sip of her lemonade, not blinking.

“You don’t have to be here, you know,” I say, nodding toward the crowd. “Weird move showing up to a party hosted by someone you clearly can’t stand.”

She shrugs. “I enjoy watching rich kids spiral into bad decisions. It’s likeLove Island, but with more fake tans and less emotional depth.”

I almost choke on a laugh. “You rehearsed that?”

“Nope. That was freestyle.” Her mouth quirks like she’s trying not to smile. “Impressed?”

“A little,” I admit. “I didn’t know sarcasm counted as a party trick.”

She tilts her head. “Says the guy whose party playlist hastwosongs by The Script. Is that your secret shame?”

“Hey, those are bangers.”

“Sure. If you’re going through a breakup and crying into your duvet.”

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