She wraps a pink strand around her finger. It matches the cherry blossom tattoo on her forearm.
“You have something to add?” I ask.
She brings her hand to her other arm. “Kaylee deserves better.”
“I’m aware of that.”
“But the heart wants what it wants. And she’s clearly in love with you.” Leighton pushes herself to her feet. “If you care about her—and we all know you do—then grab onto her or let her go.”
“I do—”
“No. I see the way you look at her. The way you flirt with her. You keep tossing her I want you breadcrumbs. You’re keeping her in waiting.” She reaches for the door. “She deserves better than that.”
At home, Kaylee is on the couch in a tiny tank top and smaller shorts, her arms wrapped around her knees, her hands on her Kindle.
She looks up at me as the door swings shut. Her eyes fill with frustration. Then regret.
“Hey.” I toss my keys on the table. Leave my shoes by the door. Like tonight never happened. “Emma go to bed?”
“Yeah.” Her voice is shaky. She looks back to her Kindle. Taps her fingers against its edge. “So, we’re… we’re gonna act like everything is normal?”
Not exactly, but close.
Leighton is right.
I need to let Kaylee go.
To be her friend, and nothing more.
“That’s for the best,” I say.
“Yeah.”
“Oh.” Her voice is hollow. “So, we’re…”
“We’re friends.”
I wish there were some way to make this easier for her.
To wipe every thought of me from her head.
But if I can’t stop thinking about her, I don’t see how I can convince her to stop thinking about me.
“Yeah. Of course.” There’s no fight in her voice. Because she’s tired of fighting or because she understands this is how it has to be?
It doesn’t matter. She’ll get used to it.
We are friends. The sooner we act like things are normal, the better.
I take a seat on the other side of the couch. “I’m gonna watch something.”
She sets her Kindle down. Sits so her back is against the back cushion of the couch, her legs hanging over the edge. “Something dumb with explosions?” There’s humor in her voice. It’s not all the way to Kaylee teasing me, but it’s getting there.
“Not that you’d ever judge?” I tease back. Almost. I’m only at eighty percent.
She forces a smile. “I’d never.” Her eyes catch mine as she turns toward me. “What do you like about that stuff anyway?”
“What do you like about The Hunger Games?”
Her eyes light up. All of a sudden, the tension between us melts. I don’t know she’s a virgin. She doesn’t know I want her. It’s just Kaylee and Brendon on the couch debating movies again.
“What don’t I like about The Hunger Games? First of all, there’s Katniss. She smart, strong, brave. But she’s not trying to start a revolution. She’s not even trying to resist. She’s just trying to survive.”
I know exactly how to press this. “Yeah, but she’s a Mary Sue.”
Kaylee jumps off the couch. “Excuse me? Katniss is all flaws. Mary Sue is a bullshit sex term anyway. You never hear anyone complain about guys being good at everything. You never hear people saying Harry Potter is such a Gary Stu. If you actually read the book, you’d know that her moodiness and her struggle to connect with other people is a big hindrance.”
Warmth fills my chest. I fucking love seeing her like this.
And it feels normal.
“That guy she’s into. He’s boring.” Truth be told, I enjoy The Hunger Games quite a bit. Even the love triangle. But it’s too much fun seeing Kay’s eyes light up.
“Oh, big surprise. Another guy complaining about Peeta. Where is it guys got the idea brooding and angry is better than supportive and funny?”
I raise a brow. “You could let a guy dream.”
She laughs so hard her tits shake. “Is that why you’re on Team Gale?”
“Brooding and handsome has to count for something.”
He cheeks flush. “Yeah. But a sense of humor is important too. And being able take care of someone. Do you really think you would be able to take care of Katniss?”
“I’m not sure anyone could take care of Katniss.”
Kaylee’s lips press together. Her voice gets soft. Uncertain. “Yeah. I guess… I guess she’s kinda broken at the end. But I like to believe she’s okay. That time and love are enough.”
“Me too.”
She turns toward me. There’s something in her eyes, but I don’t know what it is. “Why do you love action movies?”
“I can’t go after that. Your answer is poetic. Mine is boring.”
“Then make it poetic.”
“I’m not the writer. If you want something pretty, well, check out your temporary tattoo in the mirror.”
She shakes her head. “I want your boring answer.”
“The boldness of them grabs my attention.”
“Hmm.”
“Don’t hmm me.”
“You do it all the time.”
“Still.”
She laughs. “You’re a hypocrite. But I guess I’ll forgive you.” She sinks into the leather. Her voice gets earnest. “I do forgive you.”