Thin Love(70)

But he didn’t leave when Keira snuggled under her covers. He just sat on the foot of her bed, elbows on his knees as he watched her. The silence rose back up, and after a few minutes, Keira felt stifled by the quiet.

“Don’t you have practice today?” He nodded, but kept his gaze on his hands, twisting the large state championship ring around his finger. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

The bed shook twice when Kona’s jerked around to stare at her. “Shit, Keira, don’t thank me. Don’t fucking thank me when I put you in this situation.”

“We were fighting.” She sat up slowly, rested against her headboard and Keira could tell moving only made Kona’s guilt worsen; he grunted once, nostrils flaring and she shook her head, frustrated by his attitude. “You were mad,” she said. “I was mad. Shit happens.”

“Would you listen to yourself?” He stood up then, fingers sliding through his hair. “When are you gonna get it through your head? I’m no fucking good for you.”

“That’s what you think? You think I’m some sort of enabler?” Keira came to her knees then, ready to slap him if kept insulting her. “Like I’m taking your shit because I’m weak?”

“You’re rebelling again. I’m the new Diego, right?”

Keira hated Kona then. She hated the self-effacing smirk on his face and the way he curled his arms tight across his chest. He was mocking her, trying to sting her on purpose, like she was a child, like she needed to be protected from herself, from him.

“Get out.”

“I’m just saying that you…”

“Get out!” She moved back onto her bed, turning away from him. “Just leave. Now. The project is over. There’s no need for us to see each other anymore. Just walk away.”

“I can’t do that.”

She turned to face him, hating that he still stood back, still kept himself rigid. She knew what he was doing. She knew he was looking for reasons, excuses that would make her angry, have her lashing out until she told him she didn’t want him. Fine, she thought, unwilling to fight for something that was never real.

“You don’t have a choice. I’m done. I’m so done with getting glares from every girl that you’ve been with. I’m sick of people talking behind my back like I’m some sort of naive idiot. I’m sick of being compared to every girl you… just leave, Kona.”

He took a step, cautious, slow but his eyes were wide, desperate. “I can’t just leave you here. I’ll wait for Leann…”

“No!” Keira sat up and the quick jostle of her body had her head swimming again. “Just get out of here. I can take care of myself.”

“Don’t do this. I don’t care about… just don’t do this to me.”

She was mad, distracted by the burn in her eyes, by the collection of tears that stuck on her lashes. “I’m doing what you want, Kona. I’m giving you an out.” She laid back down and pulled her pillow under her chin. “Just take it.”

Keira thought he might stay. She thought the way his breath hissed out of his throat meant that he struggled with ignoring her and walking away like she knew he wanted to do. She counted the seconds, rubbing her eyes against her pillow, breath held until she heard the click of her door. And then, when she knew she was alone, when Kona’s thick scent didn’t clot in her nose anymore, Keira fell asleep with her tears wetting her pillow.





For the first time in his life, Kona didn’t want to play football. It wasn’t the frigid temperatures or the fact that he was running like shit, working his drills like an amateur that made him want to tear off his pads and leave. Kona just didn’t want to be around anyone.

“Hale! Get your fucking head on right!”

Kona stopped mid run, walking back down the field as Coach Robins yelled after him. He tried again, getting back in formation, Luka next to him staring, but Kona bent down, hand on the grass ready to try the Shuffle Read Run again. His heart wasn’t in it and his mind was clouded with Keira’s sobs as Kona stood outside her door listening just an hour ago.

Robins’ whistle blew and he moved, nothing more than instinct making his feet shuffle. Then Chris Willis, their running back, charged forward and Kona twisted his shoulders, not thinking, not really caring that he’d completely taken himself out of the play.

“Son of bitch!” Robins’ voice carried across the field and Kona lowered his head, hands on his hips as he waited for his coach’s approach. The man got right in his face, yanked on Kona’s helmet to catch his eyes and Kona just took that angry scowl like medicine, focusing on the hard wrinkles around the man’s green eyes and the way his already pink face got redder. “You’re behind your runner and somehow still managing to lose fucking ground! Where you at today? Huh? You forget how to run?” Robins pushed Kona’s helmet back as though he couldn’t look at him another second. “You try that shit again and I swear to Christ if you don’t move your fucking feet I’ll kick you off my field.”