Thin Love(20)

“I can.” She tried twisting away from him again, but not only did it cause sharp twinges in her back, his grip was like a vice on her elbow.

“You double jointed or something?” For the first time since Kona had nearly choked that kid, the frown left his face, replaced by what Keira could only guess was a wistful grin of hope.

“I can get one of the girls to help me.”

“Keira, I watched you.” He stopped them just before they reached the bottom steps of her building, but did not release her arm. “You don’t even look up when you’re walking down the sidewalk. You don’t smile and acknowledge anybody. The only person I’ve ever seen you with is that Leann girl in class. I highly doubt you’re cool with the girls in your dorm. Stop being pigheaded and let’s check this out.”





Kona had been in many dorm rooms. CPU girls didn’t have a problem letting him hang out, in fact, they encouraged it. There had been that redhead from Spencer who practically sat on his lap when he told her he had to leave and the blonde from Easton that invited him over at two a.m. Her opening the door completely naked had been something akin to the warmest welcome he’d ever gotten.

To him, going into a girl’s dorm usually only meant one thing; the thing he loved most. The thing that most twenty-year-old guys loved most. But Kona wasn’t in Keira’s dorm for that. He’d like to be, maybe, but he knew that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

In all those slipping-in-for-a-little-hey-now times he’d been to the girls’ dorm-side of campus, he’d never once bothered to give more than a passing glance at how they lived. Most times, he barely took note of the color of their walls or the fluffy pillows and the feel of their sheets.

“Give me a second,” Keira said, waving him in before she threw her bag onto her bed and headed to the bathroom. Keira didn’t have fluffy pillows and her bed was made up like a soldier’s, corners tight, and a simple white comforter with small blue pillows lined against the headboard.

The room was divided with Keira’s bed on the right and her roommate’s on the left. The difference between the two was enormous. Where Keira’s side was uniformed, bordering on obsessively organized, her roommate’s was chaos. Shoes on the left side of the room where thrown haphazardly under the bed and discarded shirts, skirts and bras littered the unmade bed. Keira’s shoes were neatly stacked on a white shoe rack next to her desk and a dark wood dresser was next to the door with only a small silver box and two framed pictures on top of it.

In one of the frames, Kona spotted a smiling Keira, probably ten or so years younger with her arm around the waist of a man that had to be a relative. Standing on the deck of the paddleboat, the Creole Queen, with the Mississippi River wide and endless behind them, they had the same smile, the same bright, round blue eyes and both stared at the camera with their heads tilted to the right. Kona thought Keira hadn’t changed much since that picture was taken. Sure, she’d grown, her hips were now wider, her limbs longer, but her face looked much the same—open, honest with the faintest spattering of freckles dotted sparsely over her cheeks.

Next to that picture was a current one of Keira wearing a fairy costume with wide, green wings and glitter intricately arranged around her eyes. She was smirking, not smiling wide as though she was happy, but she still looked friendly, relaxed. At her side was that Leann girl Kona had always seen her with, dressed in coordinating fairy wings, blue with yellow edges. Upon closer inspection of both faces, Kona saw similarities—Leann’s hair was lighter, thinner and her eyes weren’t quite as round or as blue, but the high cheekbones were the same, as was the arch of their noses and the full pout of their lips.

“My cousin, Leann. We room together,” Keira said, coming to stand next to Kona. He nodded, but made his gaze return to the picture of Keira as a little girl. The frame was cold in his hand when he picked it up and he motioned the picture toward her, curious.

Kona noticed that Keira’s face softened when her eyes ran over the picture, that the straight line of her mouth was less severe. After a few seconds, she blinked and looked up at him. “My dad.” She took the picture from Kona, kept her gaze on the glass for a few seconds, thumb moving over the man’s face, before she replaced it on her dresser.

“When did he die?” His question surprised her, and the soft edges of her faint smile twisted into a frown. “You’d make a crap actor, Keira. Everything you’re thinking is all over your face.” Kona moved his chin toward the picture, but didn’t take his eyes off her expression. “No way you’d look at your dad like that if he was still around.”