The Year I Became Isabella Anders (Sunnyvale, #1)(29)

“I didn’t know you knew what that word meant.” I chase after him, smirking.

“I learned it ten seconds ago when I took your bags,” he quips, flashing me a haughty smile from over his shoulder as he opens the door. “Don’t think this is all out of the kindness of my heart, though. I’m mostly doing it so you’ll give me my present.” He pauses, waiting for me to confirm if I got him a present like he asked.

I want to tell him no, just so I don’t have to witness that cocky smile I know he’s going to give me, followed by an Ah-ha! I knew you liked me.

But I did get him something while on my trip.

When I remain silent, his face lights up. “I knew you’d get me one.” His grin expands. “Just like I knew you liked me.”

“It’s not that great of a present,” I try to sidetrack his attention off the meaning of my present. “So don’t get too excited,” I warn, but then sigh when he continues to bounce with excitement. “Fine. Take my bags upstairs, and I’ll give it to you.”

“Wow, that’s pretty forward of you.” He bites on his bottom lip, trying really hard not to laugh at me.

My damn traitor skin heats up again. “Stop being such a perv.”

He giggles. Actually freakin’ giggles. And it just might be the adorablest thing ever. But I’m not about to tell him that.

“You’re setting yourself up with these,” he says. “Jesus, Isa. What the heck happened to you while you were on that trip? You leave all innocent and come back with a dirty mouth.”

I pinch him in the side again and he ends up dropping one of the bags, and it lands on my toe.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” He sets the other bag down and reaches to touch me then pulls back. “Are you okay?”

I glance down at my boot. “I’m fine. Totally didn’t feel a thing with the boots.”

“Are you sure?”

I bob my head up and down, and he smiles tensely, fidgeting as he steps back from me.

Why is he acting like a squirrely weirdo?

“Come on.” He picks up the bags, going right back to the chillaxed version of Kai. “I want to see what you got me.”

Nobody’s home. That’s the first thing I notice when I walk in. I’m not surprised my family isn’t here to welcome me home, but it still hurts and makes me want to find my real mom even more.

Kai finds his own way to my room through my house, with me tailing at his heels. I’m surprised he remembers where everything is, since he hasn’t been here for five years. But he navigates through the hallways easily and makes it to my room.

The moment he steps inside, though, he frowns. “What happened to all your posters and drawings?”

Confused, I scramble inside to see what he’s talking about. The moment I catch sight of the bare and freshly painted white walls, my jaw collides with the floor. “I don’t . . .” I yank my fingers through my hair as I turn in a circle. “Someone took all my stuff down.

“You didn’t take them down?” Kai asks, dropping the bags onto my bed.

I shake my head as tears burn in my eyes. “They were here when I left. I don’t know what happened.”

But really, I do. Either my mom took them down, or it was Hannah’s form of revenge. Neither is a good alternative, because both probably mean all my posters and drawings are gone forever.

What if they’re gone? What if I never see some of that stuff again? As depressing as it is, that stuff was a huge part of my life, especially my drawings.

Reality knocks the wind out of me, and a few tears manage to escape from my eyes.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay,” Kai says when he notices the waterworks.

I feel stupid, like a loser again, who cries over ridiculous drawings and posters, because they mean more to her than they should. “I’m sorry.” I wipe away the tears with the back of my hand. “This is so stupid. I shouldn’t be crying over drawings, especially in front of you.”

“Hey, I cry too,” Kai assures me, pressing his hand to his heart. “And I’ve cried over drawings and posters before.”

“In front of people?” I question, and he hesitates. “See? That’s the difference between you and me. You’re not crazy enough to cry in front of other people who could eventually use it against you.”

“I’m not going to use this against you,” he promises. “Seriously, Isa. I’m not that big of an asshole.”

“Sometimes you kind of are, though, to me anyway. With everyone else, you’re usually so chill, but with me . . . it’s like you get your kicks and giggles out of making me uncomfortable.”

He rubs his hand across his jawline, considering something. “Okay, I’ll admit I tease you a lot, but only because I’m comfortable around you.” When I stare at him in disbelief, he adds, “Well, more comfortable around you than most people.” He sighs when I still keep looking at him with skepticism. “Look, when I’m around other people, I’m different—I know this. But everyone expects me to be this intense, serious guy all the time, like Kyler is.”

“I hate to break it to ya, but Kyler’s not that intense and serious all the time,” I say, remembering how much he laughed when we spent those few weeks shooting hoops and hanging out.