Someone to Love(51)

She might as well be talking about Kenny and me.

“Look, I gotta run.” I lean over and tousle her hair. “Do me a favor and give this guy the cold shoulder, will you? Stay in and catch a movie with Mom. She could use the company. And don’t let anyone stick their tongue down your throat, or I’ll have to track them down and rearrange body parts.”

“Where you going?”

“I’ve got some shopping to do.”





Flowers. I give a little laugh as I stare down at the bouquet of bright red roses I picked up from the florist. I wanted it to look special, not like I swiped it out of a plastic bucket off a street corner, so the florist peppered in a bunch of baby’s breath, and it looks like a song came to life right here in my hand.

I tried to text Kenny to see where she’s at, but she didn’t answer. I figured I’d hit a few of the usual haunts before waiting it out at home. I’m amped and ready to tell her how I feel—that she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid on eyes on, that her inner beauty outshines the stars, the moon—makes them look like amateur hour when it comes to phosphorescence. Then I’m going to say it. I’m going to say those three little words I haven’t uttered in so long—and for the first time ever, I’m finally going to mean them.

The Beamer is parked right outside Starbucks, amassing snow an inch deep over the windshield, so she must have been here a good long while.

I park and brace myself before getting out of the car—hell before imparting such a life changing statement. Everything about the two of us will change in that very moment. She’ll either say it right back or laugh in my face.

A flurry of snow greets me as I make my way inside. The flowers feel foreign in my hand, like I’ve donned a costume and this is just some prop. It doesn’t feel real. My heart drums out a vicious beat as I pan the establishment. I spot Ally behind the counter, and her jaw drops. I tick a quick hello before scouring the crowd and spot Kenny off in the back.

My stomach bottoms out.

Kenny has her arms wrapped around the waist of a familiar looking bald-headed bastard—Cal.

She belts out a laugh and her neck arches with pleasure in a way I only thought it did for me.

Looks like Kenny is taking the game to a whole new level—flying solo with Cal of all people. And here I didn’t think she had it in her, that she secretly may have wanted only me.

A little girl walks in with her mother. Her long hair, those large brown eyes with the slight look of hurt in them remind me an awful lot of Molly.

“These are for you.” I hand her the flowers and dart back to the truck.





She didn’t come to my room last night.

I glance out the window bleary-eyed as the sun crests the hillside, casting an eerie tangerine glow over the mounds of snow that piled overnight. I lie back down and throw my arm over my eyes, trying to block out the dismal light, the world—reality in general. Kenny seemed so innocent when I saw her that night at that party. I knew she wasn’t coming home with me to heat the sheets, but she held the oxygen in the room, and I damn well needed to breathe. I was floating on the wreckage from my last heartbreak and Kenny was a beautiful island that emerged from nowhere, one that I longed to explore. And now I’m petrified that what I really came upon was a volcano ready to blow my world to pieces. If I thought Blair was bad, her blatant F.U. after years of being together, then I have a feeling Kenny is going obliterate me in the worst way possible.

I didn’t think I could feel pain so deep from someone I’ve hardly known a month. I never knew I could have my heart ripped from my chest and set on fire by my sheer desire to have someone who has no real interest in me.

This afternoon I’ll be wearing nothing but a smile in Kendall Jordan’s art class. I know for sure she’s enrolled in it because I double-checked her schedule last night.

I’ll have to put on that invisible suit of armor I’ve donned since last summer when everything went to shit just hoping to make it through the hour.

I could always not go—forfeit two hundred big ones. Technically, I’m staff, so I shouldn’t be so eager to shed the stitches, although Professor Webber made it a point to let me know graduate students were her primary pool of applicants. Besides, I should probably get back in the game—start tearing through that industrial-sized box of condoms I’ve got stashed in my nightstand. Kenny was just a misstep. I let her get too far in my head, and if I keep trekking in the same direction, I’ll turn into one big emotional pussy.

After a quick shower, I don’t bother getting dressed. Instead, I wrap a towel around my dripping wet body and venture into the kitchen.