The Falling (Brightest Stars, #1)(65)

“No one has ever said that to me before.”

“It’s become one of my favorite things to do. I’m going to miss this when I leave.”

His eyes were on my mouth.

My heart was beating out of my chest.

“I wish you weren’t going,” I confessed to him.

“One day you’ll regret saying that.” Kael’s breath covered my cheeks.

His lips were so close to mine. Was he going to kiss me, here, now, out of the blue, with the dew of orange on his lips?

My mouth begged for his to inch closer, to touch mine. I had never wanted something more than I wanted him to kiss me, there in my kitchen.

Was he going to kiss me?

His lips soon answered my question. He leaned over and put his soft mouth on mine. Everything went quiet then. The traffic on the street outside. The faint sound of the TV. Even the noise in my head went quiet. I had no words. No thoughts. Just him.

He was timid at first, gentle . . . until I pushed my tongue between his lips and tasted him. His fingers cupped the sides of my jaw and down the skin of my neck. He pulled me closer and I sighed, feeling relief from a pain I didn’t know I felt.

The flooding relief was immense but short-lived when Kael gently pulled away, kissing the corner of my mouth while whispering, “I’m so sorry.”

The high I felt was ripped away, replaced with a different kind of pain taking stabs at me. The look on his face wasn’t just surprise, but remorse.

“I’m sorry. I really don’t know what I was thinking,” he continued, wiping his mouth with his fingers. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

I nodded, almost agreeing in silence, but it felt like a rejection. “Yeah, you really shouldn’t have.” My words didn’t match what I was really feeling, but I wasn’t going to let him know that. I stood to leave the kitchen, wanting the safe haven of my room, wanting to curl up into a ball. That was it for me and oranges.





CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE




I hadn’t heard from Kael at all the next day, and by the time I got home from work I was so exhausted that I barely wanted to undress, let alone shower. Dad and Estelle were still in Atlanta, so thankfully, no Tuesday-night dinner. Elodie wasn’t home, and she hadn’t told me where she was going. The whole day at work I tried to avoid her, because I didn’t want her to sense that something was off with me. I felt like she would know that Kael had kissed me when she looked at me. I didn’t plan on telling her. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust her, I just didn’t want anyone to know. I didn’t know why, but I wanted to protect whatever this was with Kael from anyone’s judgment or questions.

No matter how much I adored Elodie, managing her curiosity and keeping her entertained were more than I could handle today. I was emotionally drained and, after having two no-shows and a very high-strung walk-in who didn’t tip, I really wanted the house to myself. I collapsed into the cushions of my couch and closed my eyes. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt this way.

After a quiet nap, and realizing how badly I needed to relax, I decided on a pampering shower, using nearly every product in the bathroom. I shaved, twice, and even double-shampooed my hair, just to feel more lavish. After the long, hot shower, I combed out my hair, braided it the best I could, and put on the only matching pajama set I owned. They were soft, a silky rose fabric that clung to my body—a gift, of course, from Estelle. Hardly my comfort zone, but I had to admit they looked pretty flattering; if only I had someone to appreciate me wearing them.

My nails were up next. I was really leaning in to this self-care thing everyone kept talking about online. Tiny flakes of sky blue were left on my fingernails, and instead of picking at them like I always do, I grabbed the acetone and cotton balls and headed to my bedroom to get a bottle of white nail polish from the basket on my dresser, along with a candle that I had “borrowed” from my stash at work. On my way to the kitchen I collected a towel from the hall closet in anticipation of my mani-pedi. A cup of tea seemed the perfect accompaniment to my spa-at-home preparations . . . but Elodie and I had finished the supply of tea packets that we’d brought home from the salon. So a cup of microwaved water with a spoonful of honey in it would have to do. I carried the steaming liquid carefully to the living room, pausing to turn on my speaker and Bluetooth, as the honey dissolved into the clear water.

My wrists were a little sore from the no-tip client who was full of demands. He barked at me every time I spoke and didn’t want to pay for a deep-tissue, even though he continuously asked me to use more and more pressure. The joints of my fingers had a dull ache, a manageable but not ignorable type of pain. I decided to paint my toenails first.

Actively not thinking about Kael caused me to think about him. It scared me how comfortable I had become with his proximity, his quiet and intense presence in my house. He had rapidly become a subtle, essential part of my life. But he was very, very clear from the start that we would never be a thing, and I went along with it, acting as if I was used to spending all my time with a guy and not calling him my boyfriend. But after last night, this turned into a more dangerous reality. I had to constantly remind myself not to read too much into that kiss. Even if it was the best kiss of my life . . . But I know exactly what happens when you expect something from people. It never ends well.

I felt the cold polish touch my skin and I jumped a little, dragging the white paint farther down my toe. Thinking too much about him distracted me from being able to paint my toenails properly. I really needed to get it together. I took a sip of the steamy sweet water in my mug and felt the wetness from the end of my braid moistening my back through my PJs, when a knock at the door made me jump. A visitor was the last thing I wanted right now, and I definitely wasn’t expecting anyone, but there it was. I stood up and looked around for my phone so I could check to see if anyone had called. Austin? I couldn’t find my phone, so I gave up and tiptoed to the door as the knocking came again. This time harder. Like the side of a fist pounding against my fragile screen door. I yanked it open to see Kael standing there; his hand was midair and he looked surprised to see me. It had started to rain again, and a mist floated around Kael, clinging to the cotton of his sweatshirt.