Avenged (Altered #2)(35)

“I threw myself at you,” she blurted.

He laughed. “And I loved every second of it.”

“I kissed you.”

“Again, not sorry.”

“I’m sitting on your lap.” Her voice dropped. “Like some hussy bimbo.”

That sobered him. He glared at her, his teasing gone. In fact, he was outraged. “Where the hell would you get that idea?”

She shrugged. She didn’t have enough time to count the ways she was messed up.

He finally spoke as if he was choosing his words carefully. “I’m holding you. People need to be held sometimes. Right?”

That was so reasonable, it made her feel even worse. Of course he was right. They were hugging. If anything, he seemed to need to know she was all right as much as she needed to make sure he was fine.

She listened, but she could tell he was guarding his thoughts again. It was funny, how she was starting to know him.

She’d overreacted. If he didn’t know she was inexperienced before, he definitely figured it out.

He watched her, waiting for her to say something, as if he was afraid to spook her. His thoughts remained quiet, focused only on rubbing his hands along her arms to soothe her. She had no idea how much to tell him. So, she offered what she hoped would make her sound the least crazy. “My parents. They were very religious. They didn’t think girls should throw themselves at boys.”

He took that in. She wanted to sink into the ground. She was a nineteen-year-old girl. She bet he didn’t know a lot of nineteen-year-old girls who felt guilty about hugging someone.

Finally, he snorted and pulled her closer, the hug so tight she felt like her ribs were being squished together. “Well, then they wouldn’t have anything to worry about. You didn’t throw yourself at me. I’ve had a hard day. I’m shaken. You were comforting me.” He rubbed his chin against her hair. “It’s very Christian of you.”

She couldn’t help it. She laughed.

As she let herself relax, she wondered where her awkwardness had even come from. Her parents were gone, and she’d always secretly scoffed at their puritanical views on dating. Oh, she’d never fought them. There hadn’t been any reason to, really. There hadn’t been any boys who wanted to date her, and it was easier not to argue with them unless it was necessary. She learned early on to pick her battles, and that wasn’t one she chose, but she never thought she believed any of that stuff.

Maybe she didn’t believe it. Maybe she just didn’t know much about easy displays of affection, even how to recognize them. Her parents weren’t the hugging sort, not with her and not with each other. Kitty was surprised they’d gotten close enough once to reproduce.

Role models like that, well, it was no wonder she might be dysfunctional.

And Nick… In his dreams over the past day, she learned his family was her family’s polar opposite. His parents, his sisters, their extended relatives—they touched constantly, their eyes full of love. They hugged, kissed each other’s cheeks, filled each other with food and laughter.

She smiled, remembering his memories, and allowed herself to sink into him. Under her ear, she could hear his heartbeat, and the sound reassured her. As she listened to that steady beat, she focused on that, not her weirdness.

He had made it. They were still together.

But…they needed to get out of here.

“We should figure out what your new talent is. Kenny is coming tomorrow, and we need to be ready.”

“You’re right.” He gently moved her off his lap to sit on the cot next to him. He stood, doing a few arm crosses to stretch his shoulders. “I guess I can’t hear thoughts.” He grinned at her. “More’s the pity. So, what else could it be?”

“Most people apparently get either telekinesis, or increased strength and ability to strategize.”

“Huh.” His brow furrowed. “Why is that do you think?”

Kitty shrugged. “Fields seems to think that the drug enhances personality traits you already have. Like, Blue and Luke are in tune with their surroundings. They’re active. Doers. A bit typeA, even. Tactile.” She fiddled with the sleeve of her jumpsuit. “The ones who get the strategy and the strength are usually in their heads. Watchers. Thinkers. They sit back more often and observe. They’re thinking of the next step, of how it fits together.”

“So what about you?”

“I don’t know if anyone else is like me.”

“What?” His eyes widened. “Really?”

She shrugged again. She knew it was strange, but having it pointed out didn’t exactly make her feel good about herself.

“Huh.” He rolled up his sleeves. “Well, I suppose it makes sense.”

“What makes sense?” Nothing about this situation ever seemed to make sense.

“You.” He smiled, his eyes softening. “You’re the most sympathetic and empathetic person I know. I bet the drug enhanced that. You are so in tune with the people around you, so sensitive to their emotions… The drug gave you the ability to see inside them.”

Her chest felt tight. Is that what had happened? She had always been sensitive…too sensitive, as if she could feel other people’s embarrassment, their anger and fear. It’s why she kept to herself. She felt raw.