“Damn, Keira, if you wanted me on my back, all you had to do was ask.”
“Be quiet and close your eyes.”
Keira looked down at Kona, trying not to focus on the precise features of his face. His frown was steady, severe, the pain clearly visible. It was eerily similar to the hard scowl her father used to make. She couldn’t stomach that expression either and so she rubbed Kona’s temples with her soft, firm fingertips. How often had she watched her mother do the same thing for her father? Hundreds of times perhaps, when the woman still loved him, when she still cared about the constant pain that filled her father’s body.
“That’s good.” Kona’s voice was low, light and after only a few quick strokes, the tension began to fade from his forehead. His skin was smooth and Keira liked how the dark, barely distinguishable freckles peppered across his cheeks and on the bridge of his nose. Another rub, this one deeper, and Keira looked away from his face, tried not to count all those delicious brown spots.
“What did you think of Les Mis?” she asked. He responded with a grunt that Keira thought was noncommittal at best, but she then clarified. “Aside from it being depressing.”
“It was okay. Sad as hell, but a good story. Messed up, for sure.” Kona’s large shoulders felt heavy against Keira’s lap but she didn’t mind the weight. He was solid and his body gave off a delicious heat that Keira tried not to enjoy. She was always cold- natured, perpetually had a chill, but Kona poured warmth into her skin, comforted her more than she’d like to admit.
“Messed up?”
“Yeah. I mean, come on, Valjean can’t be bothered to handle his own shit so he lets his guy do it and that poor Fantine lady gets fired?” Kona looked up at her, heading shaking as though he was disgusted. “It’s all his fault. All the shit she went through, it was his fault.”
“That’s why he took care of Cosette. He knew he’d messed up. That’s what I meant by betrayal. Valjean’s betrayal was like Lancelot’s.” When Keira’s fingers stopped moving against Kona’s temples, he tapped her hand to get her to continue. “He did this terrible thing and wanted to make up for it. It’s a story all about betrayal; a lover’s betrayal, society’s, how even the greatest, consuming loves can be harmful.”
Kona was silent, listening to Keira’s theory and she wondered if he was trying to work out the comparisons. She wondered if he was thinking of anything at all other than how close they were now, how intimately she was touching him. She let her mind drift, let herself enjoy the feel of his heavy weight and the easy way she was touching him. She wasn’t nervous. Not just then. She wasn’t sure why she wasn’t, but sitting there with Kona Hale stretched out on her lap, trusting her to take away his pain, trusting her to lead him to a resolution for their project, gave Keira an unaccustomed sense of comfort she hadn’t felt in a while. She wasn’t sure how to feel about that. She knew who Kona was. She knew she didn’t really fit into his world. Keira wasn’t sure she ever would.
“Your theory reminds me of Beloved,” he said, surprising Keira.
“You’ve read Beloved?”
Dark eyes open, Kona frowned at her. “You surprised?”
“Yeah, sorry, but I am. You know Morrison, but not Campbell?”
Kona shrugged and Keira liked him surprising her. She liked seeing there was more to him than the image he wanted everyone to see. “We had to read it senior year. Our English teacher was excited about the movie coming out.” When Kona opened his mouth, as though he’d say something to erase any approval she felt in that moment, Keira deepened her touch, shutting up anything he might have said.
“I can see the similarities. There’s definitely betrayal in Beloved and the whole consuming love thing.”
“You think it’s bad to let love consume you?”
It was a loaded question and Keira knew she’d have to be careful with her answer. Kona knew more about her than she wanted. He’d pried, he’d wondered and for some reason Keira could not name, she’d allowed him in just a bit. She knew his prying was likely motivated by whatever interest he had in her. She didn’t trust it. She didn’t trust him or herself when he was around her.
“You remember Paul D telling Sethe her love was too thick? He couldn’t handle how much she loved him. Fantine’s love was thick. Maybe too thick. Maybe that’s why she had to die.”
“She was doing whatever she had to for her kid, Keira. No good parent would do any less.”
“I guess.”