I shut the door, watching her stand in the middle of the room like she doesn’t belong.
It irks my nerves. “Don’t do that,” I say.
“What?” she asks, pulling her sleeves over her hands.
“Stand there like this place is foreign.”
She sighs. “Well, it’s been a while, and the last time I was here…things were…”
“I know.” I step toward her, tossing the keys onto the counter. She watches me as she bites her lip.
“Do you want to be here?” I ask, grabbing her hands out from her sleeves, careful of her cuts. She lets me link our fingers.
“Yeah,” she says quietly.
“Good,” I reply. “Don’t worry about what happened here. What’s done is done.”
“Okay,” she agrees softly.
“You hungry?” I ask, dropping her hands and walking over to the fridge. I sent my Aunt Lou a text on the way here, letting her know we were coming home. “Aunt Lou said she had some pasta in the fridge.”
“I could eat,” K says, walking behind me. She slides onto a stool as I heat up the food. While it’s in the microwave, I grab two beers and pop the caps off before handing her one. She takes a swig and then rests the bottle on the island.
I watch her pick at the label as I lean against the counter. “What’s on your mind?”
She clears her throat but doesn’t look up at me. “Us.”
“What about us?” I push off and walk to the counter, resting my forearms on it so I’m at her eye level.
She shrugs a little. “Where do we stand?”
I narrow my eyes. I told this girl I love her. Where else would we stand? She told me she loves me, but her unsureness makes me worry. What if she was just wrapped up in the moment? What if now that we’re back at home, she doesn’t want what I want?
I stand up straight and rub the back of my neck. “I don’t see us standing anywhere but together,” I say, looking over at her. “If that’s what you want?” I add.
God, please be what you want.
She takes another sip of her beer as the microwave goes off.
Dammit. Something always seems to interrupt us during big talk moments. I reach over and pull the door open, pulling out the now steaming pasta. I plate our food and take my seat beside her on the island.
We eat silently.
Me, over here wondering about what she wants. Her, thinking about God knows what, considering what she’s been through.
I probably should have taken her home. This all might be too much for her. She probably needs her best friend.
I wish that were me, but the way I acted toward her after my mom OD’d, I don’t deserve to be called this girl’s friend.
But she did introduce you as her friend to Mills.
Fuck, that pissed me off. I had just told her my feelings for her, and she told her father I was just a friend.
Fuck that.
Fuck all this.
I need to tell her what the hell I want, and she needs to tell me what she wants.