Chapter 80: Friend? Not Really
It was Friday now, which meant Celestia had officially turned what was supposed to be a weekend thing into a whole week. She’d spent every night at my place since last Saturday, sliding into my bed like it was hers, brushing her teeth with my toothpaste, stealing my T-shirts, feeding Duchess more than I ever did.
At first, I thought she was just being stubborn. That was her brand—she decided something, and that was that. But after Monday, after watching her cry in my arms, I couldn’t even bring myself to joke about sending her home. The truth? She didn’t look like she wanted to go home.
And I didn’t have the heart to make her.
That was a Monday problem anyway. Monday was still days away.
For now, it was Friday morning.
And somehow, I was driving. Again.
"Why are you smiling like that?" I asked, glancing at her out of the corner of my eye. She’d been staring at me since I backed out of the driveway.
"Because you look good when you’re driving," she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
I snorted. "Val, I’m literally just holding the wheel."
"Mm-hmm." She tilted her head, all smug. "Holding the wheel, looking serious, eyes on the road. Husband vibes."
"Husband vibes?" I repeated, half-laughing. "That’s a stretch."
She leaned back against the seat, grinning at me like she’d just won something. "Nope. It’s true. Responsible. Focused. Very reliable. Very mine."
I shook my head, but my ears felt hot. "You’re ridiculous."
"Ridiculously in love," she shot back, quick as anything. Then, with a little smirk, "And you’re blushing. I can see it."
"I’m not blushing."
> "You are."
I tried to keep my eyes on the road, but she was practically beaming. Like teasing me was her favorite breakfast.
---
By the time we parked and started walking across campus, she was still in that smug mood—herself again. Almost enough to make me forget. Almost.
She looped her arm through mine and kept up a steady stream of commentary, most of which was just her narrating things we passed.
> "Look at that couple, they’re cute. Ooo, he’s late. That girl’s hair is so shiny, what conditioner do you think she uses? Kai, are you listening? Don’t ignore your wife."
"Yes, dear," I deadpanned, because sometimes it was easier to just agree.
She laughed and nudged me with her shoulder.
---
We turned into the main hallway, crowded like always. That’s when Trent came into view, walking with a few of his teammates. The usual football energy—loud voices, laughter, the kind of presence that made everyone turn their heads.
But when his eyes landed on me, everything shifted. His laugh cut short, his jaw tightened. He didn’t nod, didn’t say hi. Just stared for a second like he hated me and then kept walking.
Celestia noticed right away. Of course she did.
"What was that?" she asked, tugging on my sleeve as Trent passed.
"What was what?" I said, though I knew what she meant.
"Trent," she said, voice low. "Why did he look at you like you kicked his puppy?"
I lifted a shoulder. "No idea."
> "Did you two argue?"
"Nope."
> "Fight?"
"Nope."
She narrowed her eyes at me like she was trying to see if I was lying. "You’re sure?"
"Pretty sure," I said, sighing. "We don’t even talk much."
She hummed, clearly not convinced, but let it drop for now.
That’s when Avery appeared.
Books hugged tight to her chest, steps careful, like she’d been rehearsing walking down this hall in her head. She looked... softer than usual. Her eyes flicked to me first, then to Celestia.
"Hey," she said, quiet, like testing the waters.
Celestia’s head turned, lips curving into a smile that wasn’t really a smile. She didn’t say a word, the silence sharp enough that it didn’t sound like a welcome.
I caught it instantly—the choice not to reply. Val’s silences were never empty; they always said more than words.
Standing right there in the middle of it, I suddenly found myself wishing it was still just me and Celestia in the car—where the worst thing I had to deal with was her calling me "husband" for using my turn signal.
---
"Hey," Avery said again, softer this time, like maybe she thought Celestia hadn’t heard the first. Her voice was smooth, calm—not sharp, not defensive. Just... real.
Celestia tilted her head, smile still there but thinner than paper. "Hey."
That smile wasn’t her smile. Not the one Celestia gave me, or Marina, or even the Duchess. It was polite, sharp-edged, the kind people wore in photos when they didn’t actually want to be there.
Avery shifted the books in her arms. "I wanted to say..." She paused, searching, then let out a breath. "I get it. I lost."
Celestia’s brows arched. "Lost?"
"I mean, I’m not trying to pretend anymore," Avery said quickly. Her eyes flicked between the two of us, but mostly landed on Celestia. "You won. Kai’s yours. I’m not standing here to... to compete. I just—" She bit down on her lip, then forced herself to finish. "I just want to be friends."
The word friends hung heavy in the hallway air.
Celestia blinked, her smile not budging. But I felt her arm tighten around mine. "Friends?" she repeated, light but laced with something sharper underneath.
"Yes." Avery nodded, her tone steady. "No games, no hidden agendas. Just... friends."
Celestia hummed under her breath, tilting her head as if she were considering it. But I knew her too well—she wasn’t considering. She was biting back a thousand sarcastic lines that wanted out.
Her lips parted, but then her eyes darted to me. I didn’t say anything, didn’t even move, but maybe my expression gave me away. Because she shut her mouth again and leaned back slightly, reigning herself in.
Her "hmm" stretched longer this time. "Interesting."
Avery exhaled, clutching her books tighter. "I mean it, Celestia. I know... I’ve been a lot. I know I’ve said things, done things, crossed lines. But I’m not asking for anything more than that. A truce. Friendship."
Celestia tilted her head, her smile growing just a little wider—too wide. "You really think it’s that simple?"
"It can be," Avery said.
Celestia gave a quiet laugh. "See, that’s the problem. You think it can be." Her voice stayed smooth, almost gentle, but there was steel hidden inside it. "But it’s not."
Avery frowned. "Why not?"
"Because you don’t want to be my friend," Celestia said plainly, shifting to face her fully now. "You want to be his friend." She tugged at my sleeve slightly, like she was reminding both of us who I belonged to. "And I’m not sharing."
Avery’s eyes widened slightly, but she didn’t flinch. "That’s not fair. Just because I want to be friends with him doesn’t mean I can’t also want to be friends with you."
Celestia chuckled, low and soft, like Avery had just said something ridiculous. "Oh, sweetheart, it’s not about fair. It’s about trust. And right now? You don’t have mine."
Avery shifted the books in her arms, voice careful. "Didn’t you hate Marina once too? And now look—you’re friends. So maybe..."
Celestia’s head tilted, the kind of tilt that meant she was sharpening her words before letting them fly. "See, that’s the difference." She held up a finger. "Kai and Marina? They grew up together. Childhood friends. History I wasn’t part of." Another finger. "And she never once tried to play dirty. Never once tried to—what’s the phrase—test the waters behind my back."
Celestia’s smile dropped, honesty flashing through just for a second. "You did."
Avery stiffened.
"You want me to believe you’re just here for friendship," Celestia continued, her voice calm but sharp as glass, "but you like him. Like, like like him. Don’t try to deny it. I know."
Avery’s throat worked as she swallowed, her knuckles white around her books.
For a moment, the hallway noise around us—the chatter, the lockers closing, the footsteps—blurred into nothing. Just the three of us.
Avery finally exhaled. "I do like him," she admitted quietly, surprising me. But Celestia, not so much. "I did. But it doesn’t matter anymore. He’s yours. I see that now."
Celestia’s eyes narrowed, but before she could say anything else, Avery’s gaze slid to me. "What about you, Kai? Do you even want me as a friend?"
Both their eyes landed on me, and suddenly it felt like I’d been shoved into the center of a boxing ring with no gloves.
I rubbed the back of my neck, choosing my words carefully. "Honestly? I’m not the one you should be asking."
Avery blinked. "What?"
"If you can’t get her on board," I said, nodding toward Celestia, "then that’s it. End of story. Because she’s my girlfriend. She’s my priority."
Celestia’s head tilted slightly, her smile softer this time, and something warm flickered in her eyes.
Avery’s lips parted, like she wanted to argue, but no words came out. Her gaze darted between us, then she finally looked down at the floor, nodding once.
"Right," she murmured. "Got it."
And just like that, the hallway noise returned, flooding back in around us. But the air between the three of us? Still thick.
---
To be continued...