Page 53 of Glitched Fates & Stolen Mates

His eyes widened. He didn’t say anything.

There was a long, horrible pause. His mouth worked soundlessly, like he was trying to find words that didn’t exist.

Something snapped. My heart started pounding like never before. The cold stickiness of spilled beer on my back, the press of bodies around us, the complete impossibility of Kit being at this concert—it was all too much.

I needed to be alone. I needed space to think.

“I’m… I’m going to find a bathroom!” I twisted away before Kit could respond, already weaving through the crowd towards the edge of the arena.

“Wait!” Kit’s voice shouted, but I didn’t stop.

I pushed between bodies, muttering apologies as I squeezed past groups of fans. The crowd seemed endless, a maze of people that shifted and moved just as I thought I’d found a clear path. I followed the overhead signs through the arena corridors, weaving past merchandise stalls and food vendors until I spotted the familiar blue toilet symbols. My heart was in my throat as I rushed through the swing doors, desperate for a cubicle to unravel in.

I’d expected massive queues. Instead, I found blessed, miraculous space. Just a handful of men at the urinals, a couple of others washing their hands. The noise from the arena felt blissfully muffled here.

The door swung open behind me.

I just knew it was Kit. Something about his presence made the air shift, made my skin prickle with awareness.

I turned around. “I’m just getting the beer off me!” I practically shouted at him.

“Okay,” he said, holding up his hands and taking two measured steps away from me.

The other men glanced at us, eyebrows raised at whatever drama we were broadcasting. Heat shot to my face. Brilliant. Just what I needed right now.

Kit stood there watching as I grabbed fistfuls of paper towels from the dispenser and attempted to dry my sodden hoodie. The beer had soaked right through to my T-shirt underneath, making the fabric cling uncomfortably to my skin.

The paper towels were useless, but I wasn’t really focused on getting dry. I was solely focused on Kit. Just… standing there, staring at me with the weirdest expression.

Once I’d taken a few deep breaths and thrown the paper towels in the bin, I turned to face him properly.

“So? What’s going on?”

Kit looked like he was wrestling with something enormous. He placed two hands on either side of his head, his eyes saucer-wide.

I didn’t think I’d ever seen him like this.

What on earth was going on?!

“Can we…” He stopped, started again. “Can we go somewhere? If you don’t mind missing the rest of the concert?”

I stared at him. “Go somewhere?”

“I’d suggest a bar or pub, but they’re all going to be rammed. Can you come back to my house? Just for a tiny bit? Then I’ll order you an Uber home.”

My brain stuttered to a complete halt. Kit now wanted me to go back to his house? Kit, who’d somehow materialised at a sold-out K-pop gig, wanted to take me home with him?

Lily had told me resale tickets for tonight were going for thousands of pounds. And Kit had just… shown up? Caused a massive scene by pulling me away from that guy, and now wanted to take me to his house to explain himself?

What could he possibly have to say that required that level of privacy?

The fluorescent lights hummed overhead. Someone flushed a urinal, and the sound echoed off the tiles. Kit’s eyes never left my face, waiting for an answer I didn’t know how to give.

I found myself nodding, despite every logical part of my brain screaming that this was mental. But the alternative was going back into that crowd, finding Lily, pretending everything was normal whilst my head spun dizzy with questions.

“Alright,” I said warily, feeling slightly like I didn’t have a choice.

Kit’s shoulders sagged in relief. He moved to the door and held it open for me, his hand hovering near my back without quite touching as I walked through. He led the way through the arena corridors, and I pulled out my phone and sent a quick text to Lily: