“Who is in your head, Kona?”
She knew he caught her meaning. She knew Kona understood what she was implying. But instead of coming to his mother’s defense, something he often did, Kona just glared down at her, both hands back in his pockets. “You got something you wanna tell me, Wildcat?”
“Yes,” she said, taking no pleasure in how he lifted his eyebrows, how that stupid surprise on his face had him dropping his mouth open. “I want to tell you that you’re a jealous, insane asshole.”
“That’s not funny.”
“You see me laughing?” Keira walked back to her bed, anxious and needing something to do with her hands. She didn’t want to slap him. She didn’t want her anger to flare up. She could feel him watching her as she busied herself with the trash on her bedside table, with how she closed her book and stuffed her pencils into her backpack.
“You and Luka, Keira? Is that what’s going on?”
Keira threw her bag to the floor. “Yes, Kona that’s it exactly. You know, in those half hour moments when I’m not with you or when I’m in class, that’s what’s going on. Me and Luka are all over each other in the middle of the hallway between classes or behind the cashier’s desk in the cafeteria when you leave to take a piss. Are you stupid?”
Two fast strides and Kona stood in front of her, but Keira didn’t cower away from him. She never did. He was a jackass with a temper, but so was she. She knew he hated being called stupid. It cut too close for Kona, that’s why she said it.
“You wanna say that again?”
Keira tiled her head, ignored the curl on his mouth. “You heard me fine. And you deserve being called stupid if you think for a second that I would do that to you.”
That curl grew tighter, shook his top lip and Keira’s eyes moved down to the fists at Kona’s side. They stared at each other for just a moment longer than was necessary to challenge and Kona stepped back, pacing around her room with his fingers moving through his hair.
“What happened to ‘yours/mine,’ Kona? What happened to us promising we were it for each other? You think that didn’t mean anything to me?”
She hated how he stopped short, how the stupid sneer on his face only got worse. “You tell me. You went with him to Lucy’s.”
“To find you!” Why was he dredging up the past? He was the one who told her to forget about it. “And what did I get for my trouble, Kona? You with your face in some redhead’s tits.”
“Yeah and I got clocked with a bottle.”
That stung. Every time Keira looked at that shiny scar on his face, she felt guilty. Kona knew that, would frequently tell her to “let that shit go.” Now he threw it back in her face because he was angry, because his bitch of a mother was whispering nonsense to him, playing on Kona’s insanely jealous nature and the still simmering anger he held against Luka.
Keira was trying, she had been trying, not to let her temper lead her into something she’d regret. And the past month had been nice, they’d grown closer, they rarely fought. She closed her eyes as he returned to his pacing, rubbing her face as a slow count moved in her thoughts. “He’s your brother.”
“And he’s fucked me over before.” Kona returned to the foot of her bed, hands hanging lightly on his hips as he waited for her reaction. He was goading her again, seeming to forget the peace they felt together; seeming to want that spark to flare between them. She knew he was pushing, trying to urge her to slip up. But there was nothing for her to admit. They only thing she hadn’t told him about was the brief conversations she’d had with Mark Burke the past few weeks and there was no way she’d mention them now. God knows the shit storm that would bring.
“He was protecting you because you put him in the middle of bullshit.” Keira knew her voice was loud, that a shout hinted behind each word she released, each lifted octave. “Besides, Luka may have hurt you, but I haven’t.”
One quick movement of his head and the scowl on his face changed, became a bitter smile that was forced. “Not yet.”
Keira wished he’d slapped her. She wish he’d told her he’d cheated on her. Somehow those things wouldn’t have cut as deep. Instead of lashing out, she sat on his bed, profile to him. She was still tired, still worn out from the flu and the week of inactivity. “Get out,” she finally told him, all the fight out of her voice. She didn’t flinch or pull away from him when he knelt down, when he wrapped his fingers around her arm.
“You fucking my brother, Keira?” Kona’s tone was soft, light, but Keira knew him. It was the calm before the storm. It was something they both did, quiet words that brewed hot, that steamed out with the escalating rage. When she closed her eyes, shaking her head, that grip on her arm tightened. “Are you?”