𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐄 𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐓

Chapter Nine: Breaking Script

I knocked on her door, and when she opened it, I had to catch my breath. She was wearing a simple black dress, nothing too fancy, but she looked stunning. Her hair was down, flowing in waves over her shoulders, and her eyes sparkled just a little in the dim light of the hallway.

"Hey," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Hey," she replied, her tone a little softer than it had been earlier.

"You ready?" I asked, stepping aside so she could lock up her place.

"Yeah," she said, grabbing her purse and giving me a once-over. "You're actually on time for once."

I chuckled nervously, running a hand through my hair. "Yeah, I figured I'd start making that a habit."

She didn't smile, but she didn't frown either. It was progress.

We walked down to my car, and the drive to the pier was quiet at first. The tension from earlier was still there, but it wasn't as heavy. We made small talk about the shoot, about how weird it was to work together after everything that had happened, but I could feel her slowly letting her guard down.

When we got to the pier, the sun was just beginning to set, casting an orange glow over the water. I parked the car, and we walked to the spot we used to come to before things got complicated—before fame, before basketball consumed my life.

Kiara leaned against the railing, looking out at the water. "It's been a while since I've been here."

"Yeah," I said, standing beside her. "I haven't been here in a minute either.

I leaned against the railing, watching the waves roll in, trying to steady myself for what I was about to say. The sun was dipping low, casting an orange glow over everything, but none of it could distract from the pit in my stomach. Kiara stood beside me, arms folded, her expression unreadable, the wind lightly playing with her hair.

"I thought this would be a good place for us to talk," I said, my voice quieter than I intended.

She didn't move, didn't flinch. "So, talk."

There was no warmth in her voice, just cold indifference. I swallowed, trying to keep my nerves in check. "Kiara, about the other night... I didn't mean for things to go like that. I didn't mean to leave you hanging. I—" I paused, trying to find the right words, but they all sounded weak in my head. "I got drunk the night before. Way too drunk. I was out of it, and I slept the whole day. I didn't even realize what time it was until it was too late."

Her expression didn't change. She glanced at me, almost bored, before looking back at the horizon. "That's it? You got drunk?"

"Yeah," I nodded, though it felt lame. "I messed up. I know it sounds bad, but I wasn't thinking straight."

She raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "You were drunk, so you forgot about me? Sounds about right."

I winced at how nonchalant she sounded. There was no anger, no emotion—just a calm, detached statement that cut deeper than I expected. "I didn't forget about you. I was just... lost in my head. It wasn't intentional."

"Right." She nodded slowly, her tone flat. "You were 'lost.' Got it."

The casual way she said it stung. I expected her to be upset, to yell or call me out, but this? This was worse. Her lack of emotion made it feel like I was talking to a stranger, like she had already made up her mind about me.

"Kiara, I care about you," I said, my frustration slipping through. "I know I keep messing up, but it's not because I don't care."

She turned her head, giving me a small, almost amused smile. "You care? You care so much that you didn't even bother to send a text? Or call? Or do anything that might suggest I was on your mind at all?"