Kenzie Love Pov __exclusive__ < 2024 >

My thumb hovers. My heart hammers. I can hear my own pulse, loud and uneven.

I set the phone down. Face-down. Because if I see the screen light up with their name, I’ll crumble. And I can’t crumble. Not yet. Not here. kenzie love pov

I reread the text I haven’t sent: “Hey. We need to talk about what I saw tonight.” My thumb hovers

Instead, I stand up. I splash cold water on my face. I look at my reflection—messy bun, mascara slightly smudged, a small silver necklace with a crescent moon that E gave me for my birthday. I touch the charm. It’s warm from my skin. I set the phone down

I’m staring at my phone screen. The cursor blinks on a half-typed text to a person I’ll call “E.” I’ve known E for three years. We’ve shared a blanket during a power outage. We’ve fought about whether Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind is romantic or tragic (I said both; they said neither). And tonight, I watched them put their hand on someone else’s lower back. Just a casual thing. A friendly gesture. But the way their fingers curled? That wasn’t friendly.

It’s 11:47 PM, and I’m sitting on the cold tile floor of my bathroom, my back against the tub. The party is still roaring on the other side of the door—bass thumping through the walls, laughter echoing up the stairs. I should be out there. I’m the one who planned the playlist. I’m the one who bought the extra guacamole. I’m the one everyone expects to be smiling.