His parents were nicer than the version of him I had first met.
His mother asked about my major. His father asked about my course load. Kai sat beside me at the restaurant and kept his hand on my knee under the table like I might vanish if he didn’t hold on. I didn’t film any of that. I didn’t need to. It was already real enough to make my chest tight.
After they left town, the house was quiet again.
Kai found me on his bed with my laptop, trying to finish a paper I had been ignoring all weekend. He took the laptop, set it on the floor, and stretched out beside me.
“You survived the parents,” he said.
“They survived me.”
“They liked you.” He traced the hem of my shorts. “I could tell because my mom didn’t do the polite smile she uses for girls she thinks are temporary.”
I turned my
