“What was her name? Misty? The waitress who asked if you were really going home with the old guy?”
“Oh, yeah.”
Kai’s husky laugh permeates the interior of my car. I want to make her laugh my ring tone. Who am I kidding? Friends?
“So . . . friends?” She tosses the question out clairvoyantly, her voice tentative.
Okay. This is tricky. Start the way you mean to go. I should be honest with her.
“Yeeeeees.” I draw the word out, pulling apart the letters, exposing all the “maybes” hidden in the crevices. “I’m willing to try.”
“Try to be friends?” Kai turns her head to look out the passenger window. “That’s kind of the only option, Rhys. It’s friends or nothing.”
She looks back at me, her tilted eyes picking out my features in the semi-darkness of the car.
“I can’t give you anything else,” she says. “Is this a real friendship you want to have or just . . .”
I know what she’s thinking. She’s not stupid. I’d be thinking the same thing.
“Or just a path to the pussy?” I’m only voicing what crossed her mind.
Her mouth drops open and then twists with an astonished laugh.
“I can’t believe you just said that to me.”
“Hey, that’s how I talk to my friends.” I grin, considering for the first time that this might be part enjoyment, not one hundred percent needless torture. “You’re just one of the guys now.”
Kai nods with a small smile left over from the laughter. I think she means it. I think she does want friends she can trust. Grady says she’s been through a lot, and it shows. I know a guard when I see one. I don’t just live with my guard up. It’s padlocked and on motion-sensored lockdown. With good reason, I don’t trust many with much, but there’s something about Kai. And I suspect, for her, there’s something about me. She could use a friend, and I . . . well, I just want to know her, and since that’s all she’s allowing me for now, I’ll take it.
“Hey, good buddy.” I take my eyes off the road long enough to tease her with them. “Could you reach back there and grab my food? I’m starving.”
“Why didn’t you eat at the restaurant?” She unfastens her seatbelt just long enough to grab the Styrofoam container with my burger.
We aren’t there yet. I don’t know if we’ll ever be. No one knows why I don’t really eat in public. Come to think of it, no one ever notices. Not going there tonight for sure.
“Can I have a fry?”
I lean over just enough for her to meet me in the middle with a
French fry. About fifteen French fries later, we’re at her apartment. That went too fast. She told me more about her shitty night waitressing. I told her about my day, which pretty much consisted of sleep, since I’d been in the studio until three A.M. I thought we’d have more time to talk and figure things out. Though it seems she already has it figured out. I’m squarely, immovably in the friend zone, and Kai intends to maroon me there.
“Well, guess we’re here.” I start tapping out on the steering wheel the bass line for the track we laid last night. “I guess—”
“You wanna come in?”
My eyes snap to her face. Her teeth toy with her bottom lip, and she’s blinking a lot.
“I mean, you’re hungry.” She gestures to my Styrofoam container in her lap. “I don’t want you driving and trying to eat this bison burger. That’s just not safe. You could, well, you could . . . eat in my kitchen real quick.”
You’d think, considering that my parents eat their young, and I barely survived it, I would have evolved out of these damn qualms. But no. That dumb voice in my head is qualming away.
“Are you sure you want me to come in, Kai?”
We look at each other, and I imagine the dim parking lot lights aren’t showing Kai much more of my face than they show me of hers, but I see everything. I’m not the only one fighting the attraction between us. Kai has her reasons, and even if I don’t get them, I want to respect them.
She blows out a long breath, tips her head back, and closes her eyes before looking back at me.
“I guess that depends.” She shifts, pressing her back against the passenger door to study me closely. “Do you mean it when you say we can be friends?”
“I mean it as much as I can mean it.”
Her left eyebrow is the only thing on her face that moves, lifting just a bit.
“What does that mean?”
“It means I’m not going to lie and say I’m not still attracted to you.” I reach over and grab the small hand clenched on her knee. “But I’ll try, if it means we can get to know each other better.”
I’ve gone as far as I can with that unless she wants me to outright lie. And I guess she’s gone as far as she can, still seeing me but knowing I’m not completely feeling platonic. Maybe somewhere in the middle, there could actually be a great friendship. At this point, it’s her call. I took a step in her direction tonight. She’ll have to come the rest of the way.
She lifts my hand away and turns to reach for the passenger door handle. She stands outside for a second, leaning her head against the door and watching me watching her. Those exotic eyes have lost some of their sparkle now that we’re past midnight. The ponytail is barely hanging on, drooping around her neck, strands of dark hair escaping and brushing the pale gold of her cheeks. Her lips, maybe from all the nervous biting, are bee-stung, red and wet. If she’d let me kiss her right now, we’d never make it to her apartment.
Who am I kidding? I can’t be this girl’s friend. I’m about to call the whole thing off when she screws with my scruples again.
“Well, come on in then.”
I grab my burger and follow her into her place before she changes her mind.
SO RHYSON GRAY IS IN MY apartment. I see everything with fresh eyes, and wonder how our tiny two-bedroom apartment with its flea market refugee furniture compares to the mansion I’m sure Rhyson will head home to when he leaves.
“Here’s the kitchen if you want to sit down to eat.”
I point to the simple wooden table and three chairs in the little nook where San and I eat our meals. There’s a fourth chair somewhere forever separated from its family, but I can’t feel sorry for it. I haggled the guy down a few bucks when he couldn’t find chair number four at his garage sale.
Rhys sits down in a chair. Thank goodness he chooses the non-wobbler. I grab a plate and transfer his burger to it.
“I can zap it real quick if you want.”
“Yeah, that’s cool.” He glances around the tiny, linoleumed space. “Thanks.”
I pop the plate in the microwave, reach for one of the Mason jar glasses I confiscated from Glory Bee, and rub it between my sweaty palms. I’ve kind of been nervous ever since he showed up at the restaurant, but my body is just now alerting me how bad it is. Rhyson’s in my house, like a poster on the wall come to life.
“Water? Juice?” I croak before clearing my throat. “Diet Coke?”
“Water’s fine.”
I get him some of our filtered water and plop the glass down in front of him, spilling a little . . . again.
“I keep spilling things, don’t I?” I pull off a paper towel to clean up.
“Am I making you nervous?” Rhyson frowns, glancing from the spill to my face.
“I guess it’s just kind of strange.” I toss the paper towel and sit across from him, set my elbows on the table, and rest my chin in my hands. “I didn’t think I’d see you again after our last conversation, and then tonight was just . . . unexpected.”
His opens his mouth to speak, but the beeping microwave interrupts. I spring to my feet to get his burger. When I set the plate in front of him, he grabs my wrist.
“Hey.” His slow, easy, slightly tilted smile releases a fall of feathers in my belly. “Calm down. Sit down.”
I heave a breath and sit across from him again. Why did I invite him inside? He was all set to go, and my crazy . . . heart? I don’t know what part of my body or mind thought it was a good idea to invite him in . . . but it is in direct defiance of my common sense. He’s eating his burger like this is normal. Like for him to be in a tiny kitchenette with a girl he barely knows is everyday behavior for him, when I know it can’t be.