Thin Love(86)

Keira loved the open-mouth, wind-knocked-out-of-her expression that crossed Leann’s face. It made her laugh and when her cousin called after her as she walked toward the locker room, that laugh only got louder. “Who are you? What have you done with my sweet, innocent cousin?”

“Some big Hawaiian corrupted her!” she shouted over her shoulder.

She was still smiling when she walked down the corridor leading to the player’s locker room, ignoring the looks she got the closer she came to the doors. There were girls sporting team jerseys, blue and white scarves and hats that made them look like everyone else in the stadium.

A few girls Keira recognized from the two times she’d gone back to the team house while Kona grabbed a book or changed his clothes before they went out. She’d never been in his room, never wanted to be in the place where he’d defiled one girl after another, but she had waited on the den sofa, sometimes with Luka, sometimes with a few of these girls staring her down in the corridor.

Feeling a little excited and still giggling to herself about Leann’s reaction, Keira wiggled her fingers to a particularly gawky girl as she passed the bathrooms. The brunette with tiny, hooded eyes rolled them at Keira and then she leaned next to her friend, hurriedly saying something that Keira thought sounded like “crazy bitch.” She didn’t care. Her time with Kona, their relationship, his rough kisses, his tender, sweet touches had transformed Keira so that the looks she got didn’t matter. She had Kona. He was all she needed.

There was a wave of blue and white, more girls, some blatantly gawking at her that filled around the locker room doorway, waiting for their men, or who they hoped would be their men. Keira hated leaning against the wall, hated that she was among the same vapid, eager girls who congregated at the team house hoping for an empty bed, but she kept her eyes on the line of players as the doors opened, ignoring the high screams and the grabbing hands, moving her head and gaze over each body, looking for Kona.

When the last of the players—Nathan and Brian who winked at her in between quick kisses—filed down the corridor and Kona still hadn’t emerged, Keira frowned, worried that she’d missed him. Gazing back toward the players and their following groupies, Keira was about to leave, to try and see if she could spot Kona before the players took the field, but the door opened again and Luka emerged, stopping short when he saw her.

“Keira.” He said her name like a point of fact, not a question that told her he was surprised to see her. Then, sounding oddly relieved, he said it again. “Keira.”

“Hey.” She met him just in front of the door worried when Luka’s expression read hard and anxious. “Where’s Kona?”

Keira had never seen Luka when he didn’t have a wide, welcoming smile on his face. But he stood in front her, head moving between her and the door behind him with his mouth set in a harsh line. There was something in his eyes, some small glint that Keira understood to be concern, perhaps indecision. He finally exhaled and closed his eyes as though what he was about to say pained him. Instantly, Keira’s thoughts went back to Lucy’s and the angry scowl Luka carried on his face when he pointed Kona out across the bar. When Kona took a shot from the redhead’s cleavage.

“Tell me.” When Luka didn’t quite meet her eyes, she jerked on his arm, bringing his attention back to her. “Who is she?”

His fingers went through his hair. It was longer, wavier than Kona’s and Keira absently wondered if Luka kept his hair long to stand out from his brother.

“It’s not a girl.” He took Keira’s hand, threaded his fingers with hers and sighed. “You need to know and, Keira,” he looked at her then, eyes glassy. Luka’s voice shook, like he could keep control of his emotion. “I just…” he released her hand and rubbed his palms into his eyes and Keira caught his desperation, the weakened way his shoulders slumped. “I just can’t do this alone anymore. I need your help.”

“Luka, what…”

A nod toward the door and Luka rubbed his eyes again against his palms. “He’ll hate me for this. He never wanted you to see.” She opened her mouth, was determined to get an explanation, but Luka shook his head and moved his palm to the small of her back, urging her toward the door. “Go.”

At first, she didn’t see him. The lockers near the door were the same garish blue of the team colors, too bright, too in your face. A quick flash came to her then, brought her back to that first week of the semester and Kona in the showers naked and moaning. Luka was behind her, keeping his distance and when she looked at him, needing some direction he nodded beyond the lockers, to the row of benches in front of them.