She looked back at the bar, and a tear rolled down her cheek. “You didn’t that night…”
I closed my eyes and a sigh escaped me. I’d known that night would eventually come back to bite me in the ass. “Kiera…”
Her eyes flashed back to mine. “I had to listen to you have an orgy, Kellan. That…hurt.”
Guilt made me say something stupid. Stepping closer to her, I snapped out, “And I had to watch you leave the club with Denny. You left to go screw him while pretending he was me! If you want to discuss being hurt…then let’s talk about how much that hurt!”
And we did. For hours, we discussed the myriad ways we’d tortured each other. And then, when the angry fire between us was doused, we went over to Kiera’s place and cuddled on her couch until we fell asleep in each other’s arms. Kissing her hair before I dozed off, I told her how sorry I was, and how much I loved her, and she repeated the feelings back to me. And that was how we healed, how we found balance. We allowed ourselves to get angry, to bring up things that had hurt us, over and over again if we needed to. We talked them out instead of brushing them aside, until eventually, the painful conversations became fewer and farther between, and the good parts of our new relationship became larger and more important.
Kiera and I still weren’t having sex, but we weren’t exactly keeping our hands off each other either. We were frequently in some stage of undress—my shirt, her shirt, something always seemed to be missing when we were alone. And while I loved bringing Kiera to the breaking point, then playfully pulling back and telling her we needed to slow down, I was ready to be with her again, and the painful need of wanting her was only growing every time we touched.
A part of me wanted to push us both past the point of no return, but a larger part wanted it to be something we talked about and were ready for, both emotionally and physically. And I didn’t want to be the one to bring it up. It might seem like coercion if it came from me. I wanted Kiera to approach me. I wanted her to be bold enough, and confident enough, to tell me that she was ready to make love to me.
Evan thought it was odd we were waiting, but seeing as he hadn’t even kissed Jenny yet, he didn’t have room to talk. I was just about to put that intervention together when Kiera approached me at Pete’s one night with red cheeks and a stunned expression. “You are not going to believe who I just walked in on in the back room.”
I had a pretty good idea who it might be, since their flirting had ramped up recently, but I played dumb so I could tease Kiera. “Um…Anna and Griffin?” I raised an eyebrow. “Do you need me to scrub your eyes for you?” My gaze drifted down her body. “Or I could scrub somewhere else, if you prefer?”
Her cheeks turned a darker shade as she rapped my shoulder. “No…” Her face brightened again. “Evan and Jenny! They’ve been flirting a lot lately, but they were totally kissing and…stuff…”
She looked away and I wondered what all they’d been doing back there. Good for them. And about freaking time. With a laugh, I told her, “I’ve been waiting for that one.”
Evan rejoined the table before it was time to go onstage. I simply smiled as I stared at him. He ignored me for a long time, then with a sigh, he looked my way and asked in a flat voice, “What?”
Putting my elbows on the table, I leaned forward. “Anything you want to say to me?”
With a sniff, he looked down at my shirt. “I don’t think brown is your color.” My smile not diminishing, I patiently waited until his eyes returned to mine. He sighed again. “Kiera told you she saw us, didn’t she?” Grinning wider, I nodded. Evan rolled his eyes, then muttered, “Okay…you were right.”
Putting a finger against my ear, I tilted my head and said, “What was that?”
He narrowed his dark eyes at me. “You were right. Fucker.” He broke into a goofy, love-struck smile. “I like her.”
Laughing, I leaned back in my chair. “Yeah, I know.” As he was shaking his head, I added, “Hey, Evan…Told you so.” He flipped me off.
I still played the emotional song that I’d written for Kiera at every show. Like always, I tuned out the world and sang it directly to Kiera. She cried every single time, which warmed my heart. A part of me had thought she’d been fine during our breakup, but she’d moped, cried, and thrown herself into schoolwork. She’d been just as torn up inside. It gave me peace that it had been just as hard on her as it had been on me.
One night, when her song ended, I hopped off the stage and rushed over to her. I had to wade through a sea of wandering fingers and eager mouths to do it, but I eventually reached her more or less unscathed. With a smile, she shook her head at my antics, but then my lips were on hers, and she didn’t have time to do anything other than kiss me back. The crowd erupted into screams and whistles while I held her face against mine. I think a large chunk of the audience thought it was part of the act, and that they might get a shot with me later, but that absolutely wasn’t happening.