HIS ROOMMATE

DANCE WITH ME

CHAPTER 29

ADRIAN’S POV

My eyes landed on a figure by the floor-to-ceiling windows. Gold long dinner gown. Back to me, hair down, city lights catching the fabric so it looks like she’s glowing.

I smile. I can never get used to seeing Kai in dresses like this. She lives in hoodies and ripped jeans and “I’ll change if I have to” energy. But when she does this… she stops the room.

I walked up to her. She turned when she heard my steps. And she was grinning from ear to ear. Not the polite boardroom smile. Her real one. The one that makes her eyes crinkle.

“You did it, Reyes,” she says, grinning. Holds up a glass of champagne she clearly didn’t order for herself.

“I guess I did,” I say. Voice comes out steadier than I expected.

She takes a sip, then makes a face. “Ugh. Still terrible. Even when it’s fancy.”

I laugh. Real laugh. First one all night that doesn’t feel rehearsed. “CEO’s can afford better terrible champagne now, you know.”

“Good,” she says, stepping closer. “Because I’m billing you for lunch tomorrow. And therapy. For watching you sign your life away.”

Mr. George’s voice comes over the mic behind us. “To Adrian Reyes. May he lead with the same heart his parents did.”

Everyone raises a glass. Kai raises hers too, but her eyes stay on me.

I clink my glass against hers. Quiet, just for us.

“To staying,” I say low enough that only she hears.

She gets it. Her smile softens. “To not leaving.”

The quartet starts playing. People start dancing. The company’s mine now. The weight is real. But for the first time, it doesn’t feel like it’ll crush me.

Because she’s here. In gold. Grinning like she knew I’d make it all along.

The quartet’s playing something slow. Violins, soft and steady. The whole room’s moving, suits and gowns swirling under the chandeliers. Mr. George is two-stepping with Mrs. Alvarez from accounting. It should feel surreal. CEO. Party. My name on the building.

But all I see is her. Gold dress. Eyes on me like she’s been waiting.

“Wanna dance?” I ask after a while. I hold my hand out. Palm up. No pressure. Just an offer.

She raises a brow. “You are now a CEO, Adrian…”

So? I ask with my eyes.

“Rumors,” she says quiet. Looks past me at the board members pretending not to watch.

I just chuckle. “Like you always say, what others think doesn’t matter.”

Her words. Back at me. From her floor, two years ago, when I wouldn’t leave her apartment because I was afraid of what people would say about me showing up a mess.

She stares at my hand for a while. The room fades a little. Champagne glasses clinking, polite conversations, cameras from PR — all background noise.

Then she smiles. Small. Real. And takes my hand. Her fingers are warm. Her palm slides against mine like she’s done it a hundred times before, even though we never have. Not like this.

I pull her in slow. One hand on her waist, careful, like she’s still glass and I’m still learning how not to break things. She rests her other hand on my shoulder. Gold fabric under my fingers. She smells like her detergent and something floral from the flowers Mr. George insisted on.

We start moving. I’m not good at this. Never was. But she’s leading more than I am anyway, steering us so I don’t step on her heels.

“You’re terrible at this,” she whispers, but she’s grinning into my chest.

“You’re bossy,” I whisper back, pulling her a fraction closer.

“CEO can’t dance,” she teases. “Headlines tomorrow: Adrian Reyes ruins company and dance floor.”

“Let them talk,” I say. And I mean it. For once, the rumors don’t matter. The board can wait. The company can wait.

Right now it’s just Kai in gold, her hand in mine, the city lights behind her.

She tilts her head up to look at me. “You did it,” she says again, softer this time. Not about the company. About getting here. About breathing.

“I did,” I say. “Because you stayed.”

The song changes. Slower. She doesn’t let go. Neither do I.

For the first time since prom night, I’m not thinking about what I lost. I’m thinking about who stayed.

“Thank you, Kai,” my voice was low and steady. Barely above the music. I keep one hand on her waist, the other holding hers. “For staying by my side.”

She looks up at me. Gold dress catching the chandelier light, but it’s her eyes I can’t look away from.

“Well you stayed by my side too,” she says, shrugging like it’s nothing. Like sleeping on my floor for two days, like dragging me out of that mansion, like terrible coffee every morning was just… normal. “You always made sure I was okay. I was just doing what any friend would do.”

Any friend.

I almost laugh. No. Not any friend.

Any friend doesn’t learn your silence. Doesn’t know that “I’m fine” means “don’t leave me alone.” Doesn’t push me to bed and threaten me with soup. Doesn’t show up on CEO day in gold just to make sure I don’t drown in handshakes.

But I don’t say that. Not here. Not with the whole board watching.

I just tighten my grip on her hand a little. “Maybe,” I say against her hair. “But you’re my friend. So it matters more.”

She goes quiet for a second. We sway. The quartet hits a low note and the whole room seems to slow down with it.

“CEO’s aren’t supposed to get sentimental on the dance floor, you know,” she murmurs into my chest. But she doesn’t pull away.

“Good thing I make the rules now,” I say, and she snorts.

For a second it’s just us. No rumors. No company. No Valerie. No ring box.

Just Kai, who stayed when staying was hard. And me, who finally learned how to let her.

The song ends. People start clapping for the musicians. She doesn’t let go right away. Neither do I.

Mr. George’s voice comes over the mic again, but it sounds distant. Like it’s happening in another room.

“You ready for speeches?” she asks, finally stepping back but keeping my hand.

I shake my head. “Ready for you to steal me a plate of those desserts first.”

“Deal,” she grins. “CEO Reyes can have terrible champagne, but he can’t have dessert without me. House rules.”

And just like that, the weight’s lighter.

Mr. George’s hand lands on my shoulder before I can follow Kai to the dessert table. Firm. Warm. The same hand that used to ruffle my hair when I was ten and hiding in his office during board meetings.

“Speech, kid,” he says, low enough that only I hear it. Then louder for the room, “Ladies and gentlemen, if I could have your attention.”

The quartet stops. Glasses pause halfway to mouths. Two hundred eyes turn to me.

Kai’s fingers slip from mine, but not before she squeezes once. Quick. Steady. Her version of *I’m here*.

Mr. George steps up to the mic first. “I’ve known Adrian Reyes since he was stealing cookies from my desk,” he starts, and the room laughs, easy and fond. “His parents built this company on two things — vision, and heart. Adrian’s got both. He just needed time to remember that.”

He turns to me. Eyes soft. Proud. Like a father. “Mr. Reyes.”

My throat goes dry. CEO. Twenty-two. Two years ago I couldn’t get out of bed without Kai checking if I was still breathing. Now there’s a mic and a room full of people who expect me to say something worthy of the name on the building.

I step up. The mic picks up my breath. For a second the silence is loud. Like the mansion after prom. Like the two days I didn’t answer my phone.

I scan the room. Board members in suits. Employees who’ve been here longer than I’ve been alive. And Kai. Back by the window in gold, arms crossed, but she’s nodding. Small. Just for me. *You got this, Reyes.*

I clear my throat. “Two years ago I thought I lost everything,” I say. No script. Mr. George didn’t give me one. “Thought the company, the name… all of it was too heavy to carry.”

A few people shift. This isn’t the speech PR wrote.

“But I was wrong,” I continue. “It’s not heavy when you don’t carry it alone.” My eyes flick to Kai for half a second. She doesn’t look away.

TBC