Keira could not take that look, the quick slap of frustration, rage, something she put out of her mind as quickly as she glanced at it, turning from him, knowing that it was Kona’s shout of rage echoing in the alley, bouncing off the bricks and empty pavement. She could feel him coming, each step getting faster and the bottle in her hand lowered, as Keira readied herself for his hands on her arms, to do battle and not think of the consequences.
When he spun her around, jerked her toward him, Keira lifted the bottle, a threat, a promise that put a quick, taunting smile on Kona’s face. “Gonna hit me, Wildcat? Go ahead.” Kona slapped his own face, swelling up to her, daring her to react. “Do it, you little coward. Hit me.” Another slap, another step and Keira’s temper broke. He was too large. Too much altogether and Keira lost her sense, let reason shift from the forefront of her mind. She wanted that condescending smile off his face.
Keira swung hard and the bottle in her hand cracked against Kona’s cheek. It took him to the ground and when he looked up at her, eyes wide, confused, Keira fell to her knees. “Shit. Kona. Oh God.”
Blood poured from his cheek and Keira tasted the bitter, sour tang of vomit on the back of her tongue.
What did I do? What the hell did I just do?
She couldn’t touch him. There was too much blood and even though Kona reached for her, needed someone to steady him, Keira retreated, scrambled off the ground.
“Keira, wait…” Kona held his hand against his face and that sick taste in her mouth doubled. Behind her she heard the scatter of activity; the quick thunder of feet on the pavement and then Luka was next to Kona, cursing, scared, glaring at her.
“What the fuck, Keira? You did this? Are you crazy?”
Kona pushed against his brother as he got to his feet and Keira moved around them, ran for her car, tears blurring the light above her and the outline of her Sunfire just feet in front of her. “I… I’m sorry,” she said, over her shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”
She dropped her keys, trying to unlock it, trying to hurry as Kona shouted at Luka, as he tried fighting against the small crowd that had gathered.
“No, brah,” she heard Luka tell Kona. “Let her go.”
And the last thing she heard before she shut her door and fired up the engine was Kona’s ragged voice screaming her name.
Keira couldn’t sleep. Her mind was pumped full of adrenaline and guilt, her heart twisted like someone had a grip on every inch of the muscle.
She hated Kona.
That’s what she told herself. Hate was easy. Hate, she was used to. She had practice with pushing her feelings down deep, with ignoring any semblance of affection. She should never have wanted him. Wanting only led to disappointment.
But the girl tonight with her arms around Kona, with her lips rubbing precariously close to his ear, had Keira questioning those repressed feelings she’d felt over the past weeks. God knew how much she wanted Kona. She liked his kisses. She loved the way he looked at her. She loved the way his skin smelled after he’d run to the library with no time to shower after practice.
He did things to her body that she wasn’t used to. They’d flirted. They’d made out and afterward, each time, she felt her body burn. He never pushed. He never asked for more than what she offered and it drove her insane.
And Kona’s mouth, his hands, his skin made her wonder why she held him off, why she hadn’t pushed, hadn’t asked for more. Keira closed her eyes and long red hair, shattered the darkness. The girl had been actually pretty, not like the familiar, vapid clones on campus. She stuck out. Of course Kona would take what she offered. The thought of it made her sick. Keira knew he wouldn’t change. Weeks and weeks she had lied to herself, had repressed the knowledge that he was a beautiful, popular athlete who could have his pick of anyone he wanted. She hated that Kona made her doubt herself, made her feel somehow subpar. But even through her anger and pain she had to acknowledge that if the last weeks had told her anything, it was that Kona wanted her too. Maybe not forever, but he definitely wanted her.
He wanted her like air, like breath. He’d showed her in every lingering glance, in the small movement of his fingers down her neck, in the calm, settled way he rested against her chest while she raked her nails through his hair.
Keira tightened her eyes at the memory of his lips on her neck. Her traitorous nipples hardened, and her skin felt fevered as she lay in her bed remembering what his tongue had felt like on her neck, his fingers just under the clasp of her bra, working inside her, making her come so hard she thought she might pass out. A quick shudder moved across her skin and Keira had to turn on her side, pull her knees up to shake off the sudden hum that throbbed between her legs.