Kesley's Pov
If feelings had a switch, Kelsey would've flipped hers off the moment she realized she liked Kingsley.
It wasn't supposed to happen. She knew the rules—unwritten, but unbreakable. You don't fall for your friend's maybe-boyfriend. Especially not when that friend is Amara—loyal, quiet, tough-as-nails Amara.
But there was something about the way Kingsley laughed. The way he always asked questions in class like he actually cared about the answers. The way he looked at people when they spoke, like he was really listening.
And the way he looked at Amara... yeah, that was a problem.
Kelsey leaned back in her seat as the biology teacher droned on about reproductive hormones. She wasn't listening. Her eyes flicked to Kingsley across the room, two seats ahead. He was scribbling in his notebook, brow furrowed.
There it was again—that twist in her stomach. Stupid butterflies.
Stop it, she told herself. He's not yours to like.
But then again… Amara kept saying they were just friends.
Later that afternoon, she and Amara were walking back to the hostel, books hugged tight to their chests. The heat was dry, the kind that made your skin crack and your brain feel slow.
"Are you coming for the class dinner next weekend?" Kelsey asked.
Amara sighed. "I don't know. If I can finish my shift at the clinic on time."
Kelsey paused. "You could bring Kingsley with you."
Amara laughed, short and careless. "Why would I bring him? He's not my date. He's just my project partner, Kelsey."
There it was again. He's just my project partner.
Kelsey nodded, silent.
But inside, the question flared up like fire: If he's just your partner… is he fair game?
That night, Kelsey lay in bed with her face buried in her pillow, half-listening to the sounds of the hostel: someone playing music on low, water dripping from the hallway tap, footsteps echoing in the distance.
She couldn't sleep.
Her thoughts were full of Kingsley. His easy laugh. The way he called her "Kels" that one time, even though no one else did.
She replayed their small conversations over and over like they meant something. Maybe they didn't. But they made her feel something—and it had been so long since anyone made her feel anything but tired and stuck.
Her mind wandered to Amara.
Kelsey cared about her. Deeply. They had struggled together. Survived humiliation, failed exams, sneers from roommates and lecturers who didn't believe in them. Kelsey had watched Amara grow stronger, day by day, even when she didn't notice it herself.
But there was still a part of Kelsey—small and selfish—that wanted something for herself.
And that something had Kingsley's eyes.
The next morning at breakfast, Kingsley slid into the seat beside her in the cafeteria. Not beside Amara. Beside her.
"Morning, Kels," he said, smiling.
Kelsey swallowed hard. "Morning."
Amara sat across from them, eyes still puffy from sleep. "Kingsley, aren't you supposed to be meeting Geraldine for the group review?"
He shrugged. "She cancelled. Something came up. Thought I'd crash with you two."
Kelsey couldn't help the small flutter in her chest. Don't read into it, she warned herself. It's just breakfast.
But Kingsley turned to her again. "You've read the assignment brief for Friday, right? Mind walking me through it later?"
Kelsey hesitated.
Before she could respond, Amara spoke up with a shrug. "You can go ahead. I'm behind on my med-surg prep anyway."
There it was again.
Open door. Walk through it.
That afternoon, Kelsey and Kingsley sat outside under the mango trees near the clinic building. He had his notes spread across his lap, but his eyes kept drifting.
"Are you always this quiet?" he asked.
Kelsey glanced up. "I think you just talk too much."
He laughed. "Fair."
She bit her lip, feeling bold. "And you… flirt too much."
He paused. "Do I?"
She didn't answer. Didn't have to. The silence between them grew warmer, heavier.
Then Kingsley leaned back, arms behind his head. "You and Amara… you're close, huh?"
"Yeah," Kelsey replied. "She's strong. Sometimes I think she doesn't even know how strong."
He nodded. "I admire her. She's... different."
Kelsey swallowed the lump in her throat. "Different good or different complicated?"
Kingsley looked at her then—really looked. "Both."
That night, Kelsey found herself staring at her reflection in the mirror above the hostel sink. She touched her cheekbones, adjusted her scarf, tried to smile.
She felt like a traitor.
But also, for the first time in a long time, she felt seen.
And that scared her.
Back in the room, Amara was scribbling in her notebook. She looked up as Kelsey entered.
"Hey," Amara said softly. "Kingsley say anything weird today?"
Kelsey froze. "What?"
"He's been acting kind of distant with Geraldine lately. I don't know... the guy's confusing."
Kelsey blinked. "I thought you said you didn't care about stuff like that."
"I don't," Amara said quickly. "I just don't want drama."
Kelsey nodded, swallowing the guilt. "Yeah. Same."
Then Amara smiled at her. Genuinely. Trusting.
And Kelsey's heart cracked just a little.