Kyle's pov
I was not the type to notice much about people. Not in the way my sister did, dissecting every expression, filing them into categories of weak, strong, fake, or real, nor in the way my friends expected of me, where beauty was a checklist and girls were at times conquests waiting to happen. I was the kind of person who observed quietly, storing things away without explanation.
But with her, Coco, my attention betrayed me.
I swear the world stilled the first time I saw her.
Her hazel-brown eyes locked onto mine, glowing with that molten warmth that seemed to both welcome and disarm me. It wasn't just the colour, it was the way they lingered, steady and unafraid, like she could strip me down to bone and still find something worth keeping.
Her curls framed her face like they were sculpted by mischief itself, each coil catching the light and promising softness I knew would haunt my hands. My throat tightened, I had no right to imagine touching her, but the thought came unbidden, reckless.
And then, her body, My lord. That tiny waist, those curves in all the right places, she carried them like a secret she didn't even need to tell. She wasn't flaunting, she wasn't trying, and yet, that's what undid me most. Every step was rhythm, every sway a beat I couldn't get out of my head.
I tried, God knows I tried, to stand there like a gentleman, to act as though she was just another introduction, another passing face. But my palms betrayed me, damp in my pockets, my jaw clenched against the raw truth that I already wanted her.
Her smile finished me. Slow, knowing, as if she caught the exact moment my composure cracked. And maybe she did, because Coco didn't just walk into the room that day. She took it.
It started small: the way she carried herself, back straight even when her clothes looked worn, her hair pulled into neat curls as if order was her only defence against chaos. Then her voice, calm and low, clipped but precise, as if each word was measured before it left her mouth. She never looked like she was trying to impress anyone, and that in itself unsettled me.
It did because, Coco, in her quietness, possessed a kind of elegance that no one in my world had any business overlooking.
And then, there were the bruises.
I hadn't meant to see them. I'd walked into the library that afternoon only because I'd forgotten my notes in the study room. Kairo was supposed to be meeting Coco there for their tutoring session, and I had only expected to tease my sister, maybe steal her snacks, but as I entered, I saw Coco shift in her chair, tugging her sleeve down too late.
Purple and yellow marks bloomed across the tender skin of her forearm. Finger-shaped. Fresh.
I had frozen. Something unpleasant curled in my chest, a pressure I didn't want to name.
She noticed my gaze. For a flicker of a second, our eyes met, and I saw something in her expression, fear, shame, resignation, I couldn't tell which, but she lowered her arm as if to erase what I'd just seen. Kairo, mercifully distracted by her notes, hadn't looked up.
I left the room without saying a word, but the image of those bruises followed me. They were burned into my brain, clashing violently with the picture I'd painted of Coco: self-possessed, quiet, unshakable.
Someone was hurting her.
And the thought made my jaw tighten every time I breathed.
I found Kairo later in the garden, lounging with her usual carelessness, scrolling through her phone. She had that look about her, the one that suggested she could detect my mood before I even opened my mouth. I hated and loved that about her.
"You've got that face," Kairo said without glancing up.
"What face?" I asked, defensive too quickly.
"The one where you pretend you're not thinking about a girl when you are." She smirked, finally raising her eyes to meet mine. "Spill. Which one of my followers is it now? Don't tell me you're aiming higher than the usual lineup of social media celebrities."
I shot her a glare, but it lacked bite. "It's not like that."
"Oh, it's exactly like that." She leaned back, folding her arms. "Let me guess. She's smart, she's quiet, and you've already written a sonnet about her in your head."
I groaned. "You're insufferable."
"Coco." Kairo said her name flatly, like it wasn't even a guess, just fact.
I literally went still.
Kairo arched a brow, triumphant. "Knew it."
For a moment, I considered denying it. I could laugh it off, shove my hands in my pockets and walk away, but something about my sister's knowing look made me sigh instead.
"She's…" I struggled for words. "Different."
Kairo tilted her head, unimpressed. "Different how? Because she doesn't scream your name when you walk by like the others always do?"
My voice lowered. "You don't get it. She doesn't… try. She just is. And it's like," I exhaled, running a hand through my hair. "It's like she carries herself as if she knows something the rest of us don't. Like the world didn't crush her when it had every reason to."
Kairo studied me silently for a beat. Then her smirk softened into something else, something almost cautious.
"You saw them, didn't you?" she asked quietly.
My throat went dry at this point. "The bruises."
Kairo nodded.
"She didn't say anything," I muttered, more to myself than to her. "She didn't have to. Whoever did that to her," My words broke off, anger flooding my chest again.
Kairo's eyes darkened, but she didn't look surprised. "I've noticed too," she admitted. "The way she winces sometimes, the way she hides her hands, but she never talks about it. And I…" She bit her lower lip, uncharacteristically unsure. "I don't know how to ask."
I clenched my fists. "It's not right. Someone needs to…"
"Careful," Kairo interrupted. "You sound like you're about to play knight in shining armour. And Coco doesn't need pity. She'd hate that more than anything, I've seen that look in her eyes."
"I'm not pitying her," I said sharply. "I just," He hesitated, lowering his voice. "I want to know her. I want to… be someone she can lean on."
Kairo's smirk returned, gentler this time. "So you want to ask her out."
my ears burned. "That's not," I stopped, realizing the truth was written all over my face. "It's complicated."
"Is it?" she teased, though her tone lacked its usual sting. "You like her. Admit it. It's not rocket science."
I dragged a hand down my face. "Fine. Maybe I do, but she doesn't need me messing up her life even more. You've seen the way she carries her burdens. She's already got enough to deal with."
Kairo leaned closer, her expression uncharacteristically serious. "Then don't mess it up. Don't make it about you. If you really care, Kyle, then just… be there. Quietly. No grand gestures. No swooping in. Just show her you see her. That might mean more than you think."
I looked at my little sister then, really looked at her, and realized she'd changed too. Coco had touched her, softened her edges in ways I never thought possible.
And maybe, just maybe, Coco was about to do the same to me.
That night, I lay awake longer than I cared to admit, my mind replaying every detail: the calm in Coco's eyes, the faint curve of her smile when she explained something to Kairo, the bruises she tried to hide, the quiet grace she wore like armour.
I wanted to ask her out. I wanted to know the sound of her laughter when she wasn't restraining it, the way her hand might feel in mine, the things she dreamed about when no one else was listening.
But for now, it was a secret I'd keep to himself.
Because if I was going to mean anything to her, it couldn't just be about what I wanted.
It had to be about what she needed.
And Kyle Carlisle was determined to wait as long as it took to find out.