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"Jenny," Kyle says from behind me as he gently grips my elbow.
I turn around, ripping my arm out of his grasp. "What?"
"I'm sorry," he apologizes as he moves closer to me. "I didn't know."
"How could you?" I cry. "You don't know what it's like to be madly in love with someone when they don't want you. It sucks, Kyle. It sucks so bad."
His eyes shift to his feet, and he shoves his hands into his pockets. "I do know what it feels like."
I look up through a curtain of angry, hurt tears. "You do?"
He offers me a small smile. "Let me take you home."
I swallow hard, willing the remainder of tears to stay at bay. "I'd actually like to finish my burger." And, as if on cue, my stomach growls with hunger.
We both laugh as the anger begins to dissipate in my chest.
Kyle steps aside, giving me a clear view of the door. "Alright. Let's eat then."
Chapter 7
I can hear the muffled sound of voices as I hang my damp towel on the rack and open the bathroom door. A trail of steam follows me across the hall, into my bedroom, dissipating when it comes into contact with the cold window.
My stomach is in knots as I run my fingers through my wet hair, my pointer finger snagging on a tangle. I gently pull and prod until the snarled hair comes loose.
I'm not looking forward to what I have to do this morning.
Brunch at Cedar Ridge Lodge is a long-standing tradition between the Kearns and Thompson families. Every time someone has a birthday, we all gather for an elaborate breakfast buffet. Kyle even drives home from Boulder for the day for the super fun festivities.
Since today is Matt's 18th birthday, I have to endure two miserable hours in his company. Guess I'll manage somehow. At least Mom will be there to deflect the conversation. She's good at that.
After taking much longer than necessary to blow-dry my hair straight, I slip out of my robe and into a pair of jeans, an oversized cobalt blue sweater, and white sneakers. That's as much effort as I'm putting in. At this point, Matt should just be happy I even grace him with my presence.
When I enter the kitchen, I'm not surprised to see Kyle leaning against the counter, a cup of coffee in hand, wearing black jeans and a navy, long-sleeved shirt. He's talking to Mom about her store's marketing strategy as his dark eyes flick quickly to me, then back to Mom. If I hadn't been watching him, I would have missed the split second the corner of his lips slipped into a crooked smile before rearranging back to his normal, unimpressed smirk.
Interesting.
"Morning baby," Mom greets me a little too enthusiastically as she sets her empty coffee cup in the sink. Her chestnut hair, with it's golden honey and amber highlights, is pulled into a low ponytail. She looks effortlessly put-together wearing black slacks and a cream-colored, frilly turtleneck with ruffles and lace.
"Morning," I grunt as I open the pantry door and peer inside. Eggs Benedict, fluffy waffles, and an endless array of fruit and spreads are not my ideal breakfast choices. I prefer cereal. Or Pop-Tarts. Anything sickeningly sweet.
I go to grab for a Pop-Tart as Mom pulls the door open wider and hip-checks me aside.
"Mom!" I yell in shock as I stumble from the force of her body slamming into mine.
"No," she points a finger in my face. "Today you eat real food for breakfast."
I roll my eyes as she slams the pantry door shut, cutting off all hope of putting myself into a lethargic sugar coma.
"Tell her, Kyle," Mom urges. "Tell her it's not good to eat that crap for breakfast every day."
Kyle flashes his eyebrows at me, silently tsking me. Something strange flips and flops in my belly and I wonder what that feeling is.
"You really should eat a healthy breakfast, Jenny," he chastises me from across the kitchen. He sets his coffee cup in the sink beside Mom's before returning his gaze back to me. I watch his eyes trail from my eyes, down to my lips, and then back up again. "It's good for you."
I'm not sure if I'm imagining it or not, but there's a hot flash of tension flickering between us. Kind of like passing a sparkler back and forth. The bright sparks lick and jolt and dance as our eyes lock. As much as I want to look away, his sharp gaze holds me in place, completely mesmerized.
"Um," Mom furrows her brows as she looks from Kyle to me wearily, snapping me out of the strange hold he seems to have on me. "It's time to go."
