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"That's...unusually nice of you." I want to reach out and brush his arm with my fingertips, but I don't. Because it would obviously be weird and inappropriate. And hello? It's Kyle.
"I know you and I don't get along all that well," Kyle gently says, "but I don't like seeing you hurt."
My heart squeezes abruptly in my chest and it feels...better, less achy. I stare at him, wonder what's gotten into him.
What am I saying? This is probably some game he's playing.
But what if it's not?
"If you having pity on me helps me get my driver's license, then I'm sure I can muster up some more tears," I jokingly elbow him in the arm, trying to break the weird tension roiling between us.
Kyle groans. "Please don't. I can't handle any more of your tears this week."
Chapter 6
I should not have worn a long-sleeve shirt today. I mean, normally it would be fine. But not today. It's an unusually hot day on the mountain. 53 degrees. Average temp in late March: 38 degrees Fahrenheit.
So, I'm sweating as I carry yet another box marked 'shoes' up the three flights of stairs to Sunny's apartment, my legs aching from the climb, lungs burning from overuse.
Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful Kyle offered to teach me how to drive. It's just...when he said his friend Sunny needed help moving into an apartment, I thought Sunny was a guy. Sonny. With an 'O'. Not the leggy, curly redhead with intense green eyes. She has these long, neon yellow, sharp nails that can literally slice through the packing tape on the boxes. It's scary.
She likes Kyle. He'd have to be blind not to see it. The way she twists tendrils of burnt orange between her fingers. The endless string of giggles after he makes the lamest jokes. The pretty smile permanently plastered on her face. While I'm carrying up boxes, she's running her taloned fingers up and down his T-shirt clothed chest. Asking him what he thinks about the couch in this corner. Should she get new curtains? Can he fix a leaky sink? Is her bathtub big enough for two? Blah, blah, blah.
I know Kyle is good-looking. Everyone knows it. Girls have been chasing after him for years. What I don't get is why he never seems all that impressed by the never-ending string of gorgeous women constantly throwing themselves at him. He rarely sticks with a girl for long. They pique his interest, he spends time with them, and then he gets...bored? Almost as if he's looking for more of a challenge.
I don't know.
I'm not even sure why I'm trying to psychoanalyze him. Maybe because he's always been a mystery to me? Someone I've spent tons of time around, but I don't actually know him. I know he has an unhealthy obsession with strong, black coffee and prefers baseball to basketball, but I don't know what he's majoring in or what his favorite food is. I should probably ask.
Mom and Kyle have always gotten along really well. He stops by to check in with her when he comes home from college on his breaks. Sometimes, I think he spends more time at our house than his own. Kyle doesn't like his mom. They fight a lot. They had a falling out a few years ago. Matt doesn't know why. Their mom, Diane Watts-Thompson, is a well-known criminal lawyer who spends a ton of time traveling to Denver for high-profile cases. Well, high-profile compared to the lack of crime on the mountain. Tourists are usually the only people who get into any type of trouble around here. And it usually involves alcohol, snow and terrible decision-making.
My phone vibrates in my back pocket as I step through the open door into Sunny's small living room. I glance over to the kitchen area and see Kyle's lower back leaning against the white-tiled countertop, Sunny's plump lips accosting his neck as she presses herself against him. Yuck.
I quickly look away and set the box down as quietly as I can before making a beeline for the open front door. Watching Kyle make out with his current flavor of the week is not part of our...arrangement. But since they're taking a break, guess that means I can, too.
I sit down on the top step overlooking the full parking lot below. Far enough away so I won't hear any strange noises that may come out of Sunny's mouth, but close enough so Kyle can hear me scream in the event of an emergency.
It really is a gorgeous day. The sun is shining as I listen to a cacophony of cars passing by and the muffled sounds of distant voices. The smell of pine trees and fresh air drift by as a gentle breeze carries through the covered walkway. It's all an illusion. The weather is always perfect right before the sky unleashes a frozen hell on the mountain. It's probably going to snow tomorrow.
My parents have always loved the cold weather, but I prefer a warm, sandy beach. I don't care for the freezing temperatures. Or the layering of clothes before marching into the whipping cold wind. Or the snow flurries that stick to everything. Cheeks. Eyelashes. Hair. Car windows...ugh.
Matt.
Everything always leads back to him, doesn't it? Even a gorgeous spring day.
My phone vibrates in the back pocket of my jeans again. I can guess who it is, but I'm just not sure I'm ready to deal with him yet. Tomorrow is his birthday and I know giving him the silent treatment must end at some point. Soon. Besides, we always spend his birthday together. Well, that was BA. Before Audra. Now I don't even know if I should give him his gift.
Stupid, stupid Matt. Why does everything have to be so complicated right now?
I know things can't stay the way they are. They have to change because Matt and I are getting ready to journey down different paths in life. But I would have waited those four years of college. Patiently bided my time while we both worked toward degrees and goals and dreams separately. I wouldn't have minded the distance if I knew we were both hoping for the same thing in the end—a life together.
But he had to go and ruin that.
I think I made a mistake.
Not really the words a girl wants to hear after the guy she's madly in love with kisses her. How could he do that to me? He asked Audra to Prom the day before and thought he could just play with my emotions? I guess that makes me...what? His side chick?
I'm mad and hurt and so, so, so embarrassed. But I miss him. I don't just miss the big stuff like basketball on Saturdays and having a history partner for our last project of the semester. I miss the little things the most. Like the way he playfully raises his eyebrows at me when he's telling a story and he's getting to the really good part. Or how his arm gently brushes mine in the car as he adjusts the radio. I even miss just sitting next to him while we eat a meal together. His warmth. His kind eyes. His laugh. The way he calls me 'Jen'. He's the only one who calls me that.
