HIS ROOMMATE

ALWAYS

CHAPTER 32

KAI’S POV

No explanation. No plan. No “we need to talk about Melbourne.” Just… come.

Two years ago he couldn’t leave his mansion without me dragging him. Now he’s dragging me. The irony would be funny if my chest didn’t hurt so much.

“Oh… Okay,” I mumble. I wipe my face with my sleeve, already knowing it’ll just make the mascara worse. “I will just wash my face.”

He nods. Steps back but stays in the doorway like he’s scared I’ll change my mind if he moves too far. “I’ll wait. Take your time.”

I duck to the bathroom. Cold water on my face. The email is still glowing on my bed. *Congratulations, Kai. Melbourne. Jan 15.*

I stare at myself in the mirror. Eyes puffy. Friend. Dream. Confused.

I grab my keys. Don’t grab a bag. Don’t know where we’re going. Don’t ask.

When I come out, he’s leaning against my doorframe, phone in hand. He pockets it the second he sees me.

“Ready?” he asks.

I nod. Small. “Where are we going, Adrian?”

He takes my hand. Same way he did on the dance floor last night. Firm. Safe.

“Somewhere quiet,” he says. “No speeches. No decisions. Just you and me and bad coffee.”

He leads me out. Locks my door behind us.

I don’t know where he’s taking me. I don’t know what happens Friday. I don’t know if I’m choosing dream or choosing him.

But for the next few hours… I don’t have to know.

Because he remembered what it felt like to not have words. And he’s giving me the same thing I gave him two months ago.

Time. Space. Someone who stays.

We drove for a long time. He didn’t turn on music. Didn’t ask questions. Just drove with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on the console, close to mine but not touching. Yet.

He stopped at some small shop in the West Village. Came back with two cups of ice cream. Pistachio for me. Chocolate for him. The same flavors we fought over two months ago when I was trying to make him eat something.

Then we drove more. Out of the city noise. Over the bridge.

He bought ice cream and then drove us to somewhere. I haven’t been here before.

A blossom tree close to a lake in Central Park… The night light made it so beautiful. The city glow reflecting on the water. Pink petals drifting down every time the wind moved. Quiet. No board members. No CEO pressure. No emails. Just us and the sound of the lake, with the distant hum of NYC behind it.

I get out of the car. The air is cool. Smells like water and flowers and his cologne from when he opened my door for me.

"Wow!! This place is beautiful," I said. Voice small. Because it is. Because I forgot the city could be quiet like this.

He leans against the hood of the car, ice cream in one hand, eyes up at the skyline.

"Yeah it's..." he says staring at the stars you can barely see over the buildings. He doesn’t finish the sentence. Doesn’t have to.

I sit on the grass near the tree. Petals land in my hair. He sits next to me, close enough that our shoulders almost touch. He offers me his spoon. I take it. Chocolate and pistachio mixed together. Sweet. Messy. Like us right now.

We don’t talk about Melbourne. Don’t talk about Friday. Don’t talk about the email or the hug or why I was crying in my doorway.

For a while there’s just the lake. The skyline. The petals. The ice cream melting faster than we can eat it.

“This is where I used to come,” he says finally. Quiet. Like he’s telling me a secret. “After my parents’ funerals. Before… everything. When Manhattan got too loud.”

I glance at him. CEO Adrian looks different under the city lights. Younger. Tired. Real.

I lean my head on his shoulder. Just for a second. He doesn’t move away.

“Thank you,” I whisper. For the drive. For the quiet. For not making me decide tonight.

He doesn’t answer. Just lifts his hand and brushes a petal out of my hair. Thumb lingers at my temple for half a second too long.

The ice cream’s almost gone. Just melted chocolate and pistachio swirls at the bottom of the cup. I’m tracing patterns with my spoon while Adrian stares at the skyline.

For a few minutes we don’t say anything. Just breathe. The lake ripples. A petal lands on his suit jacket. He doesn’t brush it off.

“You know what’s crazy?” I say finally, voice quiet. “Few months ago you couldn’t even look at the sky without it hurting. Now you’re counting stars you can barely see over the buildings.”

He glances at me. Small smile. Not CEO-smile. Adrian-smile. “Months ago I didn’t have someone dragging me out here for ice cream at midnight.”

I laugh. Soft. Real. It doesn’t catch in my throat like before.

He sets his empty cup down and turns toward me a little. Not much. Just enough that I feel it.

“Kai,” he says. My name, like he’s testing how it sounds in the quiet.

“I don't know why you were crying and I am not asking you to tell me. But I want you to know that I will always be here for you.” he said gently... Maybe too gently.

Too gently. Like he knows I’m already shattering and one more soft word will break me.

My eyes locked into his and for a second I forgot how to breathe.

CEO Adrian has a stare that makes boardrooms go silent. But this Adrian… this stare isn’t about power. It’s about me. Just me. No company. No Melbourne. No Friday deadline. Just me, with mascara smudged and petals in my hair, sitting on grass in Central Park at midnight.

“Always?” I whisper. The word comes out small. Broken. Because “always” is a dangerous word when you have a flight to book on Jan 15.

He doesn’t look away. Doesn’t flinch. “Always,” he says. Simple. Certain. Like he’s making a vow to the lake and the skyline and the stars we can barely see.

The city hums behind us. Somewhere a taxi honks. Someone laughs on a path nearby. But here, in this little circle of grass under the blossom tree, it’s just his voice and my name and the way my chest hurts in a way that has nothing to do with Melbourne.

I should say thank you. I should say “that means a lot.” I should say literally anything that isn’t dangerous.

Instead I do something stupid.

I lean in. Just an inch. Testing. Like he tested my name.

His breath catches. I see it. The way his jaw tightens. The way his eyes drop to my lips for half a second before dragging back up to mine.

CEO control. Adrian control. It’s there. But it’s thin tonight. Thinner than it’s ever been.

Neither of us moves away. Neither of us moves closer.

The space between us feels electric. Like one word, one shift, and everything changes.

Friend. I was supposed to be just his friend.

But “always” doesn’t sound like friend.

“Kai,” he says again. Softer this time. A warning? A question? I don’t know.

I swallow. Hard. The lake reflects the city lights in his eyes.

I still don’t know what I want. Melbourne or him. Dream or us.

But right now, with him looking at me like I’m the only thing in the world…

I’m terrified that “always” might be enough to make me choose.

He moved back first. Of course he did...

What was I expecting? That he would kiss me? Of course not, we're just friends and that's all.

Friends don’t lean in like that. Friends don’t forget how to breathe. Friends don’t stare at each other like the world is about to end if they don’t.

The air between us goes cold the second he pulls back. CEO control slams back into place. Shoulders straight. Jaw set. Like nothing happened. Like my heart isn’t still racing from how close we were.

"Wanna drink something? I brought some wine," he says, heading back to the car like we were not just inches away from kissing seconds ago. Voice steady. Casual. Like he didn’t just say “always” and look at me like I was the only thing that mattered.

“I guess that would be nice,” I answered. My voice comes out normal. Too Fake-normal.

TBC