A promise unspoken

The porch lights spilled golden across the lawn, casting shadows around the crowd that had already spilled out into the yard. Music pulsed from the open windows — low, thrumming bass paired with the occasional whoop from somewhere inside.

Delorah stepped out of Kit's car first, her heels crunching against the gravel drive. She hadn't spoken much since they left the house. Not because she didn't have anything to say — but because Sebastian's voice still echoed in her ears.

You and I both know it's only a matter of time.

Kit stepped up beside her and offered his hand without a word. His knuckles were raw again — not from a fight, but from how tightly he'd been clenching the steering wheel. When she took his hand, his grip loosened slightly, like she was a tether pulling him back to the moment.

"Last chance to back out," he murmured, his smirk not quite reaching his eyes.

Delorah tilted her head. "And let you walk in there alone? What kind of partner in crime would I be?"

The word partner hung heavy between them.

Inside, the house was already thick with smoke and too many voices overlapping. Bodies moved in every room — dancing, laughing, drinking. Somewhere down the hall, someone was singing off-key to Lana Del Rey. It was chaos with a cherry lip gloss sheen.

Del pressed in closer to Kit as they maneuvered through the crowd, his hand now resting just at the small of her back. Protective. Familiar. Too familiar, if anyone were looking close enough.

"Do you even know whose house this is?" she asked under her breath.

"Nope," Kit said with a grin. "But Tyler said it'd be wild. Thought we could use a little wild."

She opened her mouth to respond — but a familiar voice cut across the room, high and flinty.

"Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in."

Delorah froze. James.

He leaned against the doorway like he'd been waiting for them, half a drink in his hand, half a scab still showing where Kit had burned him. His lip curled, but his eyes were only on her.

"Careful, sweetheart," he added, giving Kit a smug glance. "Don't want to end up like him."

Kit didn't flinch, but his grip on Del's back tightened—subtly, protectively. His voice, when it came, was low and sharp.

"Didn't think you were stupid enough to show your face again."

James smirked, taking a leisurely sip from his cup. "It's a free party, Adrian. Or wait… do we still call you Kit now?"

Delorah's stomach twisted. The name hung in the air like the smell of gasoline. People nearby had turned to look — drawn not just by the sound, but the tension coiling between the boys.

Kit's jaw ticked, but he didn't rise to the bait."That scar healing okay?" he asked coolly, motioning vaguely to James's cheek. "Looked a little nasty last time I saw it."

James's grin widened, ugly. "It's healing just fine. Not like you'll be around much longer to care. Or maybe I'll send a thank-you card to your daddy. Tell him how his son's been embarrassing the family name."

Del stepped in, voice firm despite the tremble in her chest. "James. Don't."

He turned to her slowly. "You know, I thought you were just another pretty idiot getting off on the bad boy thrill." He nodded toward Kit. "Didn't think you were the kind to slum it."

Before Kit could move, Del's fingers found his wrist — grounding him. She stepped in front of him.

"You've got a lot of nerve, showing up here after what you pulled," she said. "And for what? To brag about getting burned? Real brave, James."

A few people chuckled nearby, whispers starting. James looked ready to say more, but the growing attention — and the clear lack of fear in Delorah's eyes — made him falter.

His smirk soured. "This isn't over," he muttered, turning and disappearing into the crowd.

The air seemed to deflate.

Kit let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Sorry," he said, quieter now. "I didn't know he'd be here."

Del reached for a nearby cup of water, took a sip, then passed it to him. "It's okay. He's the one who should be embarrassed. You didn't even touch him this time."

Kit laughed, just once, but it was genuine.

"You're trouble, you know that?"

"I think we established that already."

They didn't speak for a while after that, just stood side-by-side as the party moved on without them. But something between them had shifted — some strange alloy of danger and devotion.

Delorah felt it in the silence.

He had her back. And for better or worse, she had his too.

The bass dropped hard, rattling the floorboards like distant thunder. Light strobed across a packed room — bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder, laughter rising like steam.

Kit and Delorah drifted into the tide.

Someone handed them drinks they didn't ask for. Del didn't catch what was in the cup, but she tasted the syrupy sweetness of something fruity and dangerous. It burned going down, and she welcomed it.

Kit's hand didn't leave hers.

"I haven't danced in forever," she admitted, her voice barely audible over the music.

He arched a brow. "Lucky for you, I haven't either."

She laughed — really laughed — the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep, somewhere untouched by fear or expectation. Her fingers laced with his and she tugged him into the center of the room.

It started awkward. Kit wasn't a dancer — not really. He swayed more than moved, but Del was fluid, untamed, all hips and messy golden hair. She looped her arms around his neck, and he caught on quick enough.

Soon they weren't dancing to the beat. They were dancing to each other.

Del's head tipped back, laughter bright under the chaos. Kit's hands found her waist, steadying her, grounding her — even as the world pulsed around them. He couldn't stop staring at her. The lights caught in her eyes like fireflies. She smelled like citrus and sweat and something faintly floral, and he didn't care who was watching.

For once, there wasn't a mask to wear. No one calling him Adrian. No Sebastian looming. No dinner parties. No lies.

Just her.

Just them.

Their foreheads touched briefly, too close to call accidental, not close enough to be a kiss. Her lips hovered — uncertain. His eyes searched hers, asking a question with no words.

Del turned her face away, biting her lip. Not yet.

Kit didn't push.

"Want to go outside?" he asked, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

She nodded, breathless. "Yeah. Let's catch our breath before I melt."

Delorah stepped into the night air like surfacing from underwater. Her heart was still drumming from the music — and from how close Kit's mouth had been to hers.

The cool air kissed her skin. "God," she muttered, "it was boiling in there."

Kit followed behind her, his hoodie loose around his shoulders, hands stuffed into the pockets of his black jeans. "You say that like you didn't just drag me into the sun."

She smiled, glancing over her shoulder at him. "You were smiling too."

"I don't smile." He was, a little.

A swing set creaked faintly in the breeze, two seats still intact. Del padded across the lawn and sank into one of them. The chain groaned in protest, but held. She started swaying gently.

Kit took the other swing, less graceful about it. They rocked side by side, not speaking for a moment.

From here, the house looked like a paper lantern — glowing, fragile. The beat of the music felt distant now. It was like the world had stepped back, giving them a few borrowed inches of peace.

"I used to have one of these," Del said quietly, twisting the swing's chain until it tugged tight. "At our lake house. I'd sit there for hours pretending I was someone else."

Kit's brows lifted. "Someone better?"

"Someone braver." She shrugged. "Someone who didn't care what anyone expected."

"You seemed pretty brave tonight," he murmured. "On the dance floor, at least."

"That wasn't bravery. That was vodka."

Kit chuckled under his breath, kicking at the dirt. "Still counts."

They swung in silence again, boots scraping the grass.

Then she asked, softly, "Did you really not notice me before that party?"

Kit didn't answer right away. He let the swing drift, chains rattling faintly. "I noticed you." His voice was low, deliberate. "You had this way of disappearing into yourself. Thought maybe you were pretending to be someone else too."

Delorah looked over at him. His profile was cut clean in the faint glow of the string lights. "So… why didn't you ever say anything?"

Kit shrugged, the motion lazy but hiding something. "I figured you were out of my league. You always looked… clean."

"And you don't?"

"I'm not saying that." He leaned back, letting the swing creak. "But I'm not the guy you introduce to your parents."

Del snorted. "Good, because mine are terrifying."

Kit smiled. Not wide. Not cocky. Just honest.

They both looked up at the stars — pale behind faint clouds. For a second, nothing else mattered. Not Sebastian. Not secrets. Not whatever the hell was waiting for them tomorrow.

Just two broken kids, swinging in the dark.

Kit's phone buzzed in his pocket. He ignored it the first time.

Delorah was humming something under her breath. Nothing recognizable, just a soft tune to fill the dark.

The phone buzzed again. Longer. Persistent.

Kit pulled it out reluctantly and glanced at the screen.

Father.

His stomach turned.

"Everything okay?" Del asked, watching the shift in his face.

Kit stood abruptly, fingers tightening around the phone. "Yeah. I'll be back."

He walked off toward the side of the house, far enough that the music and voices dulled to a blur. The phone kept ringing until he finally answered.

"Adrian," his father's voice came sharp and businesslike. "I trust you're keeping your priorities straight."

Kit's jaw clenched. "I'm doing what I need to."

"There are expectations, Adrian. Sebastian has been tasked with finalizing arrangements that the board insists on. This isn't just about you—it's about the family's future."

"Family's future? Sounds like obedience to me."

"Call it what you will. Your brother understands the importance of presenting a united front and securing alliances. You'll learn to do the same."

Kit's heart hammered in his chest. "So who's 'her'? The one you want me to marry?"

There was a pause—thin ice over a darker truth. "I don't discuss family matters over the phone. You'll know soon enough. Just remember, this choice could make or break everything."

The line went dead.

Kit stared at the phone, the weight of his father's words pressing down like a storm cloud. Someone was being chosen for him. Someone he didn't know yet. And the name 'Adrian'—his given name—felt heavier than ever.

Kit slid the phone back into his pocket, his fingers trembling slightly. The cool night air did little to calm the storm swirling inside him. Adrian. The name felt like a noose tightening around his neck, pulling him back into a life he was desperate to leave behind.

He ran a hand through his dark hair, trying to shake off the cold dread settling in his chest. The family's future. Arranged marriages. Words like chains, binding him tighter with every breath.

When he returned to the living room, Delorah looked up, her emerald eyes searching. "Everything okay?"

Kit forced a tight smile, the one he had perfected over months of hiding pain. "Yeah," he said, voice steady but softer than before. "Just some family stuff. Nothing for you to worry about."

She studied him for a moment, but said nothing. Instead, she reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair behind his ear. The warmth of her touch was a brief reprieve, a tether to the life he wanted but feared was slipping away.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. "Let's get back to the party."

But inside, Kit felt like a ghost trapped between two worlds—the boy he was, and the man he was supposed to become.