Page 43 of Tiny Fractures

Vada has an inquisitive look on her face, her arms crossed in front of her chest like she just caught me red-handed.

“I just walk,” I whisper, holding on to my kiss with Cat, guarding it like a fragile piece of glass.

“Well, you have an awfully happy look on your face for someone who ‘just walks,’” she says, making air quotes.

“What are you getting at?”

“I got a text message from Cat.” Vada grins, pushes herself off the doorframe, and walks toward me with a smug look. “So, what are your intentions with her?”

I raise my eyebrows in amusement. “What?”

“What are your intentions with her, Ran?” She takes another step toward me, poking her index finger into my chest. “I mean, you just happened to walk by her house? That’s kind of weird, isn’t it?”

I laugh. “It was a complete coincidence. I swear I had no idea she lived there. I mean, what kind of guy do you think I am?” I press my lips together, pretending to be offended, but the corners tug into a smile.

“And you two just talked? In the middle of the night?” Vada raises one eyebrow. That means Cat didn’t tell her about the kiss, and I appreciate this because it makes me think the kiss was just as precious to Cat as it was to me.

I nod, keeping my face neutral, unwilling to give anything away.

“Okay,” Vada finally says, not looking convinced. “Just do me a favor. Don’t hurt her, alright? Don’t just hook up with her if you’re not interested in anything more. I’m not stupid; I can see that she likes you, and if you don’t feel the same way then please, please don’t lead her on,” Vada says, taking on a serious tone.

I nod slowly. “I have no intentions of hurting anyone, Vada. I promise.”

She moves in for a quick hug. “Thanks, Ran. I should get back to your brother, although he looks like he wouldn’t even know if I just left.” She giggles and walks back through the bathroom into Steve’s room, shutting the door behind her.

I move to shut the bathroom door, finally get out of my jeans, and then crawl into bed, turning off the light.

My fingers trace a line over an inch-long scar on my left palm. I got this scar when I was nine and my mother swung a kitchen knife at me after I didn’t take out the trash before I left for hockey practice. I tried to shield myself and the tip of the knife slashed into my hand, cutting it open. And then I got my ass whipped for daring to bleed onto the kitchen floor. The one thing I always tell myself is that I would never intentionally hurt anyone I love. And although I have no idea what I feel for Cat, I know in my heart and soul that the last thing I will ever do is intentionally inflict pain on her—physical, emotional, or otherwise.

My phone rings, waking me up. I reach for it next to my pillow without opening my eyes. “Hello?” I manage sleepily.

“Hey! Happy fucking birthday, dude! Did I wake you?” Shane’s voice says on the other end.

I move the phone away from my ear to get a look at the time. It’s nine in the morning. “Kinda. What’s up?” I slowly sit up in my bed. I can hear the shower running in the bathroom and giggles coming from behind the still-closed door. I roll my eyes, shaking my head.

“Want to come to the gym with me? I have a shit-ton of pent-up energy and feel like lifting some weights, but I need someone to spot me. Plus, you’re getting older; can’t let you get rusty,” he adds with a chuckle.

I contemplate this, but my mind is made up the second I hear Vada moan in the bathroom. “I’d love to join you,” I say, and jump out of bed.

“Sweet. Meet you there in twenty,” Shane says, and hangs up without a further response from me.

I grab some gym clothes from my closet and get dressed. Then I take a few steps toward the bathroom door, from behind which I can now hear heavy breathing. I take a deep breath, exhale, and pound my fist against the door.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I need my toothbrush,” I say loudly, and the noises stop.

A few seconds elapse before I hear the door lock slide back. The door opens just wide enough for Steve to shove my toothbrush at me before he slams the door shut and the lock clicks back into place.

“Thanks,” I say, more to myself. Judging by the renewed giggling, I don’t think Steve can even hear me.

When I come down the stairs, my mother is in the kitchen pouring herself hot water for tea; I wonder if she knows Vada spent the night. I pause in the hallway, hesitating, analyzing my mom’s posture, her movements. She’s humming, which makes me think she’s in a good mood, so I risk it and venture into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water from the fridge.

“Happy birthday,” she greets me lightly when she notices me.

“Thanks.”

“Are you heading to the gym?” She turns toward me and leans against the kitchen counter, taking a sip from her steaming cup.

“Uh-huh,” I nod.

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