The Year I Became Isabella Anders (Sunnyvale, #1)(41)

“I don’t even know Bradon, other than the two seconds we met at your locker.”

“Then what’s with the tone?”

I chew on my bottom lip and shrug.

He gives me a stern look. “Isa, don’t make me get it out of you.”

I roll my eyes. “You say that like you have the power to actually make me. And you don’t, unless you’re secretly a wizard.”

He smashes his lips together, suppressing a laugh. Then, with his gaze trained on me, he sets the apple down on the counter and cracks his knuckles. “I do know how to make you, even if I don’t have magic powers. Well, unless you’ve become less ticklish over the last five years.” He bedazzles me with an arrogant grin as I step away from him.

“You promised me when I told you my kryptonite that you’d never use it against me,” I gripe as I take another step back. But this time, he matches my move, stealing the space I put between us. “Kai, I’m serious. You promised you wouldn’t ever tickle me.”

“I don’t remember making such a promise.”

“Oh, yeah, well . . .” I frantically search for a way to stop him.

“I don’t know why you’re acting so scared. There’s nothing to get scared about. It’s just a little tickling.” He innocently bats his eyelashes at me

“Oh yeah, well . . . FYI, you just fluttered your eyelashes like a girl.” I know it’s a lame attempt to get him to stop, but it’s all I’ve got at the moment.

Of course, he finds my attempt more amusing than annoying, and even laughs. I narrow my eyes at him, trying to think of a better insult, but I’m blindsided as he barrels at me with his fingers ready to attack my sides.

“Kai! Stop!” I squeal, hunching over and trying to protect my sides with my arms. I snort a big old pig laugh as he tickles the air out of me. “If you don’t stop, I’m going to tell everyone at school that you know what kryptonite is and that you used to want to be Superman.”

“That was in the seventh grade.” He continues tickling me. “That stuff doesn’t matter anymore.”

I swing around him and skitter around the kitchen island, but he catches the back of my shirt. “So, you just outgrew that phase then, huh?” I ask between my laughs as he drags me back toward him.

“No, I still think it’d be pretty cool to be Superman.” His fingers dig into my sides, his chest is pressed against my back, and his warm breath is brushing the back of my neck. “I just don’t give a shit if anyone finds that out anymore.”

When his fingers stop moving, I peek up at him. “You’re saying that you’ve changed since seventh grade? That you’re not that guy anymore who wants to be so popular?” I roll my eyes just to bug him.

“I’m not even close to that guy anymore,” he promises me, with his hands on my waist. “And it’s not that crazy to change over five years. You changed over three months.”

“Okay, I get your point, I guess, but it’s still kind of hard to believe you’ve changed that much.” This time, I do have a tone.

He sighs heavily. “Isa, I really am sorry I was a dick to you back then. I know it’s not an excuse, but I was dealing with a lot of shit, and . . .” He shrugs, which looks awkward, since he still has his hands on me and his chest aligned with my back. “I’ve wanted to apologize to you for a while, but every time I say anything to you, you’d act like I was the most annoying person in the world. But I get it. I totally deserve for you to treat me like that.”

“You can be the most annoying person in the world,” I joke, but my emotions get the best of me and my voice cracks. “It’s okay, I guess. I mean, I get it. We were different people back then.”

“It’s not okay. And I’m going to make it up to you. Somehow.”

“You don’t have to do that. The apology was enough.” I pause. “I am a little confused about something, though. All during school last year, you teased the crap out of me. It didn’t seem like you were that sorry.”

“My teasing is playful,” he insists, his hands sliding around to my stomach. “I’ve told you that already.”

“Then why did you act like a weirdo when Bradon came up to us while we were talking at your locker?” I decide it’s time to be blunt, instead of tiptoeing around everything. Like in London, when I kissed Nyle. I want to be that girl again and stop letting being home get me so down. “Because it felt like you were acting weird, because . . . you were embarrassed to be seen with me.” My chest tightens as I think about all the times people were embarrassed to be seen with me. “Which I totally get. I know I’m not even close to being popular or anything, and everyone keeps staring at me like I’m some fungus that crawled out of a swamp.”

A strange look crosses his face that I can’t decipher. “You think they’re staring at you, because they think you’re a fungus that crawled out of a swamp?”

“I don’t know,” I say, puzzled over the odd look he’s giving me. “I mean, they probably don’t literally think I’m fungus, but they definitely stare at me like I am.”

“That’s not why they’re staring at you. I promise.”

“I don’t really care why they’re gawking. I just want them to stop. It makes me feel self-conscious, and I’ve had way too much of that in my life. That’s what I loved about being overseas. No one knew me, so I never had to worry about people making fun of me.”