I hate that I still fuck myself thinking about him.
Studying for finals is even more of a grind without my nightly chats with Kit. I'm not alone. Mal keeps me company when I need it, and leaves me alone to study when I need that. I love my brother, but it's not the same.
I hate not talking to Kit.
I hate how much I hate it.
I hate that I pull out my cell phone after every final, ready to text him. It's a reflex. I can't fight it.
After my last final, I get as far as tapping the message I'm done. Let's celebrate before I remember we aren't talking. Then I slide my phone into my pocket, drag my heels to my car, and drive home.
By the time I'm parked in front of our house, I'm ready to collapse.
But I can't do that.
Kit is sitting on our stoop. He looks as yummy as ever in jeans, motorcycle boots, and a black t-shirt. His leather jacket is laid out on the ground to his right. The takeout is to his left.
Fuck, I want to hold him, kiss him, mount him.
I hug my sweater instead.
He grabs the takeout bag and pushes himself to his feet. "Hey."
"Hey." There's no anger in my voice. Only hurt. But he's hurt too. His eyes are just as heavy with pain as mine are.
I don't forgive him.
But I'm still so fucking happy to see him.
Please hug me and kiss me and tell me we're done fighting.
Tell me you're done running off.
Tell me you want to be with me.
He motions to the bag. "Beef pho, spring rolls, and lemongrass stir fry. Hope you haven't forced a friend to try that dish yet."
"I haven't." It's afternoon and I haven't eaten much today—I'm always too nervous to eat before tests. My stomach growls. The lemongrass stir fry sounds like a strong contender for Piper's Favorite Vietnamese Dish. "Is that a bribe?"
"It's lunch."
"What if I ask you to leave?"
"I'll politely decline." His dark eyes fix on mine.
"What if I slam the door in your face."
"I'll call."
"If I ignore your calls?"
"I'll stand in front of your window singing Britney Spears songs until you come talk to me."
I'm tempted to call his bluff. But I want to talk to him too. I want to talk to him now. Even so... "Prove it."
He cocks a brow.
"Sing a Britney song now."