His eyes followed her with amusement as she made her way back to the kitchen. She looked ridiculous, but they were only going to share a meal and talk. She wasn’t trying to impress him. Hell, she was hoping to turn him off.
“Nice try, baby,” he chuckled, taking in her appearance, “but I know what you look like underneath all that fabric. You could wear a trash bag and I’d still want to fuck you.”
“There will be absolutely none of that,” she growled, narrowing her eyes at him. Sex was the last thing they needed. Sex with him clouded her judgment. It turned her legs to Jell-O and her brain to mush. “Why are you doing this?” she asked, her voice pleading. The underlying message clear, if this isn’t sincere, then don’t bother.
“Because,” he sighed, cracking eggs into a bowl. Though his back was to her, she could tell his bravado was slipping. His shoulders slumped and his voice lost its confident edge. “I miss you. I love you. I tried to do it your way, but it wasn’t working for me.”
“Do you think making me crunchy eggs is going to make me forget what you did?”
“No, but I’ve got to start somewhere,” he replied, still focused on his task.
“Or you could just move on.”
“You not being in my life is not an option,” he stated flatly, like it was a universal truth. Like a “money can’t buy happiness” and “all men are created equal” type of declaration. As if it had been written by God and ordained by their souls.
“I don’t get a say?” she croaked, choking on unshed tears. The rawness of his tone unnerved her. She needed to say these things, to ask these questions, but it was easier keeping her emotions in check when he was being a cocky jerk.
“Do you still love me?” he asked, opening the drawer on his left. He pulled out the whisk and began mixing the eggs. It was crazy, the two of them in the same room, saying the words that probably should have been said a month ago, while he made her breakfast for dinner.
Kensie looked everywhere but at CT. She couldn’t lie, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it in front of him, because despite the way she felt, they weren’t lovers, they weren’t even friends. They were just two people whose spirits happened to be connected.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He smirked, the cocky bastard resurfacing once more.
“I need more time,” she admitted weakly, shuffling from foot to foot. She still wouldn’t look at him. It hurt too much. He was too beautiful, and she was too broken.
“Give me one night, then you don’t have to see me again for three months.”
“One night,” she dismissed with a huff. She made that same promise to herself the night they met and look where it had gotten her.
“Kensington, please,” he begged, dropping the whisk and turning to face her.
“Fine. One night. No sex and if I feel like you’re lying to me, I’m done.”
“No sex. No lies,” he agreed. “Should we toast to it?” he asked, offering her a beer.
“No, I need to be sober around you.”
“Suit yourself,” he said, lifting a shoulder up and popping the top off the bottle. She couldn’t help but stare at the way his bicep curled as he brought the beer to his lips, and at the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. His throat was so sexy and so, covered in gauze?
“What the fuck is that?” she seethed, marching over to him.
“What?” he asked in surprise, looking from left to right.
“Is that a fucking hickey?” Livid wasn’t the word. He came here to beg her for forgiveness with a hickey on his neck? She saw red. She saw black. She was going to kill him.
“Oh, this?” He grinned, rubbing his throat.
“Yes, that.” Her hands flew to her hips, but only to keep from wrapping them around his neck. “Did Tiff give that to you?”
“Jealous?”
“No.” She shook her head violently. Calm down, Roth. Calm down. She did her best to control her temper. She tried, but screw it, no lies, right? “Actually, yes. I am jealous, very fucking jealous, happy?”
“So, let me get this straight,” he mused, taking two steps forward, “I can’t fuck you and I can’t fuck anyone else either?”
She nodded. Was it fair? No, but those where her terms.
“Do the same rules apply to you?” He moved closer still, until they stood toe-to-toe. It was the closest they’d been in months. She could feel his warmth. She could hear his heart, low, steady, sure.
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“On if that’s a hickey.”
The seconds ticked by and the corner of his mouth pulled up into a slow, lazy grin. “No, it’s not a hickey and I told you already, I’m not fucking anyone. I got a new tattoo.”
“Oh.” She breathed in surprised embarrassment. A tattoo. She was so blinded by rage that the thought never even crossed her mind.
“Oh,” he mocked, his face inching closer to hers, “wanna see it?”
“Sure, I guess.” A tattoo, not a hickey. Not a deal breaker.
“You can’t get mad,” he warned.
“Why would I get mad?”
His blue eyes held her brown as he slowly peeled back the gauze. He was being dramatic. It was just a tattoo; his body was covered in them. What was the big deal?
“Don’t freak out,” he reminded her once the bandage was off, revealing the Kensington written in purple script across his neck.
“You got my name tattooed on your neck?” she squealed, walking backwards until her ass hit the counter.
He nodded, balling the gauze in his fist, bracing for her reaction.
“You got my name tattooed on your neck,” she stated again as she inspected the swollen skin.
“Yup,” he confirmed.
“You tattooed my name on your neck!” This time it was an accusation. It was official, he was certifiable.
“Why would you do that?”
“Baby.” His voice was soft as he erased the distance between them. He tugged on the end of her ponytail, tilting her head so that their eyes met. “You are all I want, forever, remember?” he whispered, his eyes trailing down to her mouth. Those two blue storms set in the middle of his face held more determination, more love, than she was ready to accept.
“No,” she said pushing him back and slipping around him. “No. I’ve got some work to do. Just let me know when dinner is ready, okay?” She couldn’t deal with the tattoo right now. They weren’t even together, and he had gotten her name permanently etched on his skin. His name is permanently etched on me, her heart reminded her.
CT nodded, pulling at the hair on the nape of his neck. “Okay,” he mumbled before getting back to work on the food.
“Why purple?” she called from the other side of the breakfast bar. It was stupid. Did it matter? she asked herself, hoping for clarity. Yes, everything mattered.
His eyes pinned hers again. “You said it was your favorite color.”
“Right,” she whimpered, biting down on her lip in an attempt to keep the tears at bay. He remembered her favorite color, something they only ever talked about once, but was it for ammunition against Trey or was it because he cared?
Grabbing both her iPad and MacBook, she went to the couch with the intention of revisiting the first chapter of Smoke and Mirrors, the book she started writing long ago, yet another one of the many things she’d given up on. She tried to concentrate, she really did, but her eyes kept wandering to him. He was handsome, his body, his face, his ink, his everything. On the outside, he was a work of art, a beautiful masterpiece that hypnotized and enticed all who dared stare too long. But inside, he was lost, angry and insecure.
She watched from behind her iPad as he moved around her kitchen like he owned it. Honestly, he probably spent more time in there than he did in the kitchen in the tiny house he shared with his two best friends.
“Baby,” he called to her. Baby, still. If he noticed her staring he didn’t mention it. Instead, he informed her dinner wa
s ready. She made her way to the breakfast bar, eyeing the displayed assortment of food. He prepared French toast, bacon, eggs, and home fries, alongside with an assortment of fresh fruit. It smelled divine and, more surprisingly, it actually looked edible.
“I’m impressed,” she said, taking her seat.
“I’ve been practicing.” He grinned proudly.
“Reagan?” she asked, stabbing into her eggs. They were fluffy, but most importantly, not crunchy.
“My mom,” he answered around a mouth full of French toast, still her immature lost boy.
“Things are good in Bellevue?” she asked because despite everything, she cared. He needed his family, they were far from perfect, but they were his and they loved him, and he loved them.
“Getting better. It’s kind of weird, honestly. It’s like I went from black sheep to wounded bird.”
“Maybe they’re just trying to make up for lost time?”
“Maybe.”
It was quiet, then, and not in a good way. Not in the way it was when they could just sit and be. With so much left unspoken, the silence was almost as bad as the distance. It was a physical measure of how far they’d fallen.
“How’s Liam doing with all of it?” she asked, unable to take another minute of awkwardness.
“Not great,” he confessed, wiping syrup from the corners of his mouth. “It’s hard for him because, you know, his new wife wants to strangle his mother.”
“I know the feeling,” Kensie mumbled, and silence befell them once again. God, this was awkward. All she could hear was chewing, the thumping of her heart, and the low hum of the refrigerator.
More silence.
More.
More.
“How’s the new job?”
“It’s good.”
“Did you catch the Mariners game?”
“Really?” she groaned, throwing her fork onto her plate. “Small talk?”
“I’m trying, baby,”
“Stop calling me baby.”
“No, fuck that, baby,” he emphasized. “I’m completely out of my depth here. I know I need to do this right, and take it at your pace, but all I want to do is drag you to the room and make love to you until you remember how good we are together.”
Kensie swallowed, picking up her glass of orange juice with shaky hands. She’d be lying if she said the thought hadn’t crossed her mind, but sex right now would be like throwing a live grenade into a sinking ship. They didn’t need to worsen the wreckage. “Thank you for dinner. It was really good, but I have a ton of writing to do.”
“Then write.” He stood shaking his head. He was hurt by her dismissal, but he did everything to hide it while he cleared the dishes. “I’ll be quiet. I promise.”
Kensie sat there and watched him clean for a moment. He wasn’t leaving. He was fighting, and that was something, right?
“Okay, well, I’ll leave you to it.”
I’ll leave you to it? Just kill me now, she thought as she made her way back to the living room. Of all the things she wanted to say, that was the best she could come up with? Why was this so hard? A part of her knew the answer even before she asked the question. It was hard because the truth was ugly. It was hard because words mean things and once spoken, they can’t be taken back. She needed to know if it was real but asking might undo all the work she’d done.
Smoke and Mirrors
The sky was gray. It was a sign, an omen. I should run far away. I should turn back now before everything changes. I should. I should. I should, but I don’t. I need to know. I need to see his betrayal. I need to feel it in my bones, not just know it in my heart. Proof. Unalienable, physical.
“What’cha doing?” CT asked, bouncing down on the couch beside Kensie.
She rolled her eyes and scooted down to make room. “Writing,” she grunted, ignoring him. She hadn’t opened the Smoke and Mirrors file on her laptop since she’d originally written it in college. It was better than she thought, but it needed a lot of work.
Smoke and Mirrors
I stood before the door marked 36B, my hand shaking as I reached for the knob. I turned it with a click—
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
“Can you not?” she huffed as CT patted out the drum solo to Sex God on the tops of his thighs.
“Sorry,” he apologized, inching towards her.
Smoke and Mirrors
I stood before the door marked 36B, my hand shaking as I reached for the knob. I turned it with a click. It was unlocked. I was either the luckiest bastard alive or—
Ping!
“What is that?” She turned so that her entire body was facing the source of the noise.
“Pokémon GO.” He shrugged. At least he had the decency to look contrite.
“Maybe you should go.”
“Chill out, Friend. I’ll turn it down.”
Smoke and Mirrors
I stood before the door marked 36B, my hand shaking as I reached for the knob. I turned it with a click. It was unlocked. I was either the luckiest bastard alive or I was cursed.
The room was dark and—there’s an arm draped around my shoulder. Why is there a fucking arm draped around my shoulder?
“CT,” she seethed, pushing him off her. “I am trying to write.”
“What’cha, writing?”
“My manuscript,” she gritted.
“What’s it about?” he asked, resting his head on her shoulder, peering down at the screen.
She pulled back, breaking his connection. His breath on her neck sent a chill down her spine, but she ignored it and instead, answered his question. “Love, friendship, and betrayal.”
“Sounds interesting.”
“Yup,” she said, trying to ignore him and his close proximity.
A long, tattooed arm snaked its way around her waist and he pulled her into his side. “I’m bored.”
“Then go away.”
He plucked the laptop from her hands and set it on the coffee table, then pulled her all the way onto his lap. “Talk to me. Yell at me. Kiss me. Call me Fuckface, anything. I just can’t take this…” he paused, searching for the word, “indifference.”
“You think this is indifference? CT, I’m experiencing about a million different emotions all at once. This is so overwhelming. I want you to go. I want you to stay. I want you to fuck me into the middle of next week. I want you to beg for forgiveness. I want you to move on. I want you to love me, forever. I just haven’t decided what I need.”
“I know what I need,” he growled into her neck.
Kensie, be strong.
Be brave.
Do something that makes you uncomfortable.
“Let’s play a game,” she suggested.
“Okay?” His voice was laced with confusion.
“It’s called real or revenge. I just made it up. I’ll ask you a question and you tell me if you were being genuine or if you were just fucking with me to get back at Trey.”
“Kensie,” he warned, turning her body so that she was straddling him, “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
“I’ve been obsessing over this for weeks. What was a lie? What was real? I need this if we have any hope of trying again. I can’t always wonder.” She rested her forehead on his, pushing his hat off so she could run her fingers through his curly hair. She wasn’t fighting fair, but she needed to know the truth.
CT sighed. He relished her touch, but his eyes were worried. “Okay,” he agreed after almost a full minute, “but you can’t shut down if I say something you don’t like. You can get mad, you probably will be mad,” he clarified, “but you can’t shut down.”
She nodded, biting her lip. She was prepared for the brutal truth. “I’ll start with an easy one, that first night at your party.”
“Revenge,” he answered without hesitation.
“The no condom thing?” she continued.
His body tensed and he pulled her in, closer still. “Revenge. I’m sor
ry. I’m a dick.”
She figured as much. He told her that he always wore condoms. He wasn’t that drunk and as much as it hurt her to think, that first night, she wasn’t special. She was just a hate fuck. “You pushing me to apply at Safe Haven?”
“Revenge, but I wasn’t trying to be cruel. I just figured Trey was the reason you were so hell bent on staying at a place that you hated because you said, ‘sometimes you have to do what’s best for your future.’ Trey’s dad used to drill that into us. I pushed you towards Safe Haven because I knew he was trying to keep you at CMC, but I swear it was more about sticking it to him than hurting you. I wouldn’t have pushed you to quit if I didn’t think you’d be happier there.”
She was happier, and he is the reason she took the leap, but damn if it didn’t suck hearing the why. “Okay. That same night, we talked until two a.m. Were you trying to get to know me or were you digging for clues?”
“Baby,” his mouth found her ear, “I sound like a fucking asshole.”
“Real or revenge?” she pressed, pushing her palm flat into his chest until his back hit the cushion. His mouth on her ear was sending all the blood from her brain down between her legs, and she needed to focus.
“Revenge,” he groaned. “I’m so sorry.”
“Liam’s party?”
“That’s enough, now, Kensington. I don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t want you to hate me more than you already do.”
“Real or revenge?”
“I don’t know,” he huffed.
“Real or revenge?”
“Stop.”
“You asked me not to shut down, you can’t either.”
Silence consumed them once again, but she wasn’t giving up. If he didn’t want to play, then there was no point in him staying. She moved to stand.
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