Alright! Here's a continuation of
Lia Moretti liked the quiet.
Not the kind that came with empty rooms or long pauses—but the kind where no one expected her to talk. To smile. To be her mother's daughter. Perfect grades, perfect posture, perfect mask.
She closed her locker gently, ignoring the whispers down the hallway—girls talking about Kai's latest conquest, boys talking about cars they didn't even drive yet. High school at its loudest. But even in the noise, she knew exactly when he was coming.
"You missed lunch," came Kai's voice, right on cue.
Lia didn't flinch. "Didn't feel like watching you flirt with anything that breathes."
He grinned. "You wound me, Moretti."
She shot him a look. "You'll survive."
They started walking, side by side—familiar, but not comfortable. Not anymore.
"So what were you really doing?" he asked, tone quieter now.
Lia hesitated. She could lie. She was good at that. But something about the way Kai looked at her—like he saw the parts no one else did—made her pause.
"I was with Mrs. Lewis," she said eventually. "She's helping me prep for early college apps."
He raised a brow. "Always two steps ahead."
"Someone has to be."
Kai didn't reply, and for once, silence settled between them without tension. Just a beat. A breath.
Then he said, "My parents are hosting a fundraiser next weekend. You'll be there."
It wasn't a question. It never was with their families.
Lia sighed. "Another night of forced smiles and fake charity?"
"Don't forget the overpriced wine."
She cracked a small smile, quick and rare. Kai caught it like a victory.
"Maybe we'll even get to dance," he added.
She shot him a look. "You don't dance."
He leaned in, voice smooth. "I'd make an exception for you."
Lia didn't answer. She didn't need to. Her silence was sharper than words.
As they reached the courtyard, she pulled away slightly. Not enough to be obvious. Just enough to remind him.
"You're still trying," she said.
He tilted his head. "Trying what?"
"To turn this into something."
Kai's smile dropped, replaced by something she rarely saw in him: vulnerability.
"And you're still pretending it wasn't already something," he said.
Lia's breath caught.
For a second, the world tilted. For a second, they were more than childhood memories and cold shoulders. More than parties and reputations.
Then the bell rang, snapping everything back into place.
She turned, walking toward class without another word.
Kai stood there, watching her leave—again.
And for the first time in a long time, he didn't feel like the boy with all the answers. Just the one still chasing the girl who kept slipping through his fingers.