Page 26 of His Pretty Little Lies
“Oh noes, you’re eating in your room.” Mom’s face falls in disappointment.
“You gotta let them spend time together, sweetness.” Dad drops a kiss on the top of her head. “Nix coming down?” he asks, pulling her into a different conversation and stealing her focus. He’s the only one who can distract her.
I grab the tray, heading upstairs. My plan might not have been as terrible as I thought. Kinsley is in my shower and staying here for the night.
Now I just have to figure out how to get her here permanently. Hopefully that doesn’t involve more dead bodies, but if it does… so be it.
Chapter Fourteen
KINSLEY
Jax’s shirt slides off one shoulder. I pull it back up, but it only drops again. Even with how tall I am, the shirt still drops a little below mid-thigh. You can’t see his boxers that I have on underneath.
As I stare at myself in the mirror with Jax’s clothes on, I really look like his lover. He’s not even my boyfriend. That term doesn’t sound right for Jax, even if we were together. Which, maybe we are? I don’t know. This whole day has been insane but oddly interesting.
When I step out of the bathroom, I see a tray sitting on the table in front of the fireplace. Jax’s room is massive. I bet it’s bigger than some people’s whole apartments in the city.
The house is a whole other level, but after Jax told me about his mom's dreams, I get it. If I had a family of my own, I’d want the same. I know I’ll be different from my own parents. We’re not built the same. If I’d been smarter, maybe it would have been different.
I peek into the closet to see if that's where Jax is. He had to have been back because of the tray. It wasn't there before.
"Holy crap," I whisper when I step into the closet. It's ginormous.
"Kinsley!" Jax shouts my name. I don't get a chance to respond or step back out of the closet before he's filling the doorway. I watch relief flood his handsome features when he sees me standing there.
"I wasn't snooping." I totally was.
"Told you, I don't care if you do." He steps into the closet, grabbing my hand and pulling me into him. His mouth claims mine in another one of his intense kisses. When it breaks, I have to gasp for air.
"The way you kiss me…" I touch my lips. I've read about these kinds of kisses, but to have one for yourself is a whole other experience. I would have called them made up in the past. I would have insisted that kissing doesn't make your knees weak and your heart flutter. That writers exaggerate, but damn, was I wrong.
“I kiss you like I mean it.”
“I know.” I can’t deny that.
“Come on. I got you food, and my sister gave me some stuff for you.” He leads me back over to the tray of food. There is garlic bread, salad, and lasagna. You can’t forget the sandwich that stands out from the other food.
“You made me a peanut butter and strawberry sandwich?” That is freaking sweet as hell. He really has been paying attention to me.
“In case you don’t like the lasagna, I figure the sandwich is a safe bet since you eat them every day.”
Before I can think better of it, I turn my head toward him and rise on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek, but he turns his head, stealing a kiss. Okay, it's not stealing because I kiss him right back.
"All right." He breaks the kiss. "Eat before I do things you're not ready for." I lick my lips as I sit down on one of the chairs, feeling dazed. How does he do that to my head? I forget abouteverything else but the moment we're in. “You check in with this Mary?”
“Yeah, I told her I was staying with a friend.”
“And this Mary is good with it?” Good with it? She was excited.
It was a reminder that maybe I don’t have the biggest social life. I get along with everyone. You have to if you want information from them, but I fly solo most of the time, and I’m not sure why I do. Is it me? That’s why people don’t try to get closer? It’s a depressing thought I don’t want to get into. Today has been heavy enough.
“I mean, I am eighteen.” I pick up one of the cans of soda and take a sip. “Mary kind of manages our house, and I guess me too.” She comes for a few hours each day. “She’s the one who would notice if I wasn’t home. Your parents would notice, wouldn’t they?”
“Not much that they don’t notice.” Jax pushes the tray closer to me before grabbing one of the plates. “Your parents are doctors. Sure it keeps them busy.”
“Their hours can be crazy, and they love what they do.” Sometimes, I think that’s all they love. Then I remind myself that my situation could be a lot worse. There are people starving and homeless in the world. I shouldn’t complain.
“Not everyone should have children.” His comment catches me off guard.
