Unwritten Chemistry

Super trouper

Malia's POV

Two weeks later

The dorm doesn't feel like just Kylie's anymore—it feels like ours. My clothes are folded neatly in one of her drawers, and my favorite coats hang beside hers in the closet. A toothbrush sits next to hers in the bathroom, and a pair of my shoes rests by the door, right next to her orthopedic boot. It's strange how seamlessly we've fallen into this rhythm, like it was always supposed to be this way.

It doesn't even make sense to keep my own dorm anymore. I haven't been there in weeks, and Kylie thinks it's ridiculous that I still pay for it. And maybe she's right. We've built something here—a little world that's messy and imperfect, but it's ours. And that makes it enough.

Kylie's sitting on the edge of the bed, frowning slightly as she tightens one of the boot straps. Her fingers move slowly, still stiff from the crash, but she's careful and precise. There's that familiar crease between her brows, and I smile at the sight of it, leaning against the doorframe with my arms crossed.

- You good? - I ask, my voice soft.

She looks up, flashing me that grin that still manages to knock the air out of my chest.

- As good as I can be with this thing. - She taps the side of the boot like it's some stubborn pet she's forced to love. - But hey, at least I'm not stuck with crutches anymore.

- Progress. - I step closer until I'm standing between her legs.

Her hands slide up my sides, drawing me in, and suddenly, the air between us shifts—soft and familiar, like we're both breathing for the first time in weeks. She tugs gently at the hem of my shirt, her fingers warm against my skin.

- You know. - She says, her voice low and teasing. - You could just move in. Officially. I'll even clear out half the closet for you.

- Oh, half? - I tease, though the warmth spreading in my chest makes it hard to keep my cool.

- For you? I'd clear the whole thing. - Her grin softens into something more real, more us.

I lean down and kiss her, slow and unhurried. She tastes like mint toothpaste and something else—something familiar, like coming home after a long, messy day. Her lips move gently against mine, and I let myself sink into her, into the feeling of belonging that only she seems to bring.

When I pull back, Kylie keeps her hands on my hips, holding me there like she's afraid to let go.

- Hey. - She murmurs, her thumb tracing slow circles on my side. - You know what's in a week, right?

I raise a brow, pretending to think.

- Hmm, let me guess... my nineteenth birthday?

Her grin turns mischievous.

- Bingo. But don't make any plans. I've got something special lined up.

- Oh yeah? - I tilt my head, amused. - And you think I'm just gonna sit back and let you surprise me?

She hums smugly.

- You will. Trust me.

- You're the worst at keeping surprises. - I laugh quietly, shaking my head.

- Maybe. - She says, her grin softening into something sweeter. - But you love me anyway.

I press my forehead to hers, feeling our breaths sync in the stillness of the room. In moments like this, everything feels lighter—like the weight of the past few weeks melts away, leaving only her and me.

- Eighteen's been a hell of a year. - I whisper, my voice catching slightly.

Her fingers lace through mine, squeezing just enough to ground me.