Thoughtful (Thoughtless, #1.5)(55)

Only looking at Denny, I replied, “Yeah, I was…out.” I shifted my gaze to Kiera on the word “out.” Take that any way you want to. I don’t care.

Kiera seemed uncomfortable and scooted off Denny’s lap. He laughed as he put an arm around her. My stomach twisted as I watched them cuddling. They looked so f*cking happy together, but it was just as big of a lie as the two of us had been. Denny wanted his old job back, and Kiera…well, who the f*ck knew what she wanted.

“See you guys later,” I muttered as I ambled up the stairs and into my room. I shut the door and lay down on my bed. My anger was only increasing with each breath I took, but I welcomed the heat. The heat kept away the pain.

Denny was at the bar when I strolled in that night. If we didn’t have to play later, I would have strolled right back out; being around him was painful. Being around him and Kiera together was agony.

Like I was still drawn to her, even though it was pointless and futile, my eyes locked onto Kiera. She had her hair pulled up, exposing her slim neck. Her Pete’s shirt was tight to her body, and she wore these tiny black shorts that showed all of her lean legs. How good she looked was torturous.

Her full lips were parted, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d swear she was holding her breath, like just seeing me affected her. But I knew it didn’t. I was nothing to her. She flicked a glance over to Denny, like she didn’t want to be caught staring at me. I looked too, but Denny was greeting the band and not paying any attention to us. Knowing he was going to sit at the table all night, further making my life a living hell, I walked over to Kiera. If tonight was going to be half as awkward as I thought it would be, I might as well be half-cocked for it.

When Kiera noticed me approaching her, she seemed uneasy, like she sort of wanted to run. I didn’t entirely blame her for that. I hadn’t exactly been nice lately. Well, I could be nice now, since Denny was watching. I could be cordial, but I wouldn’t be friendly. That, I couldn’t do anymore.

“Kiera,” I stated dispassionately, as if I’d read her name from her nametag.

“Yes, Kellan.” Her tone was guarded, and she seemed to be making herself look at me.

Liking that I made her uneasy, I smiled. “We’ll have the usual. Bring one for Denny too…since he’s a part of this.” The largest part. Much bigger than me, that’s for sure.

Some girls decided to cuddle with me before the show, and I let them. In fact, I lost myself in their feminine attention. It was better than watching Kiera and Denny make googly eyes at each other. Needing the distraction from my pain, from my guilt, I mercilessly flirted with the girls; I didn’t even look Denny’s way.

When it was time for the band to go onstage, a sneer was on my lips. I couldn’t contain my satisfaction. I’d changed the lineup so that we were playing every I hate you, you suck song we had in our arsenal. I needed to vent, and I was going to do it through music to help prevent me from doing it with my mouth.

I knew the second Kiera understood that my set list was about her, in feeling, if not by the lyrics. The one we were currently playing was one fans often misinterpreted as being about one-night stands. It wasn’t, but I played it up that way, so Kiera would think it was. Yes, it’s about meaningless sex. And yes, Kiera, I’m dedicating it to you, and the meaningless sex we shared. As I sang, I flirted the hell out of the audience. Too sexual? You haven’t seen anything yet, Kiera.

Kiera gaped at me, and I swear her eyes misted over. It hurt me some to see her in pain, but I pulled my anger tighter around me and trudged onward. She was just upset because I was calling her out, not because she cared. She’d never cared. It had all been a lie.

The next morning, I felt a little better. Sure, I was being a dick, but being an * was better than brooding or curling up into a fetal position because some bitch had devastated me. Fuck that. I’d survived worse.

I was reading the paper and drinking my coffee at the table when Kiera stepped into the kitchen. She looked nervous yet irritated when I glanced up at her. I watched as she closed her eyes and took a deep, calming breath. I thought she might say something to me about my performance last night, but instead, she made a cup of coffee. Liquid courage perhaps?

By the time she sat at the table, I was invested in my paper, or at least, I pretended to be invested. I’d read the same paragraph three times. I considered ignoring Kiera, but purposely not speaking to her would imply that I cared. And I didn’t. We were nothing, and that was fine. Just fine.

“Mornin’,” I said, not bothering to look up.

“Kellan…”

I looked up at her. What, Kiera? What more could you possibly want from me? Because I’ve got nothing left for you.

“What?” I snapped.

Avoiding eye contact, she whispered, “Why are you mad at me?”

What? Did she really not get what she’d done to me? How she’d treated me like meat, just like every other girl I’d been with? That, until that moment, I’d thought we were different? I’d thought I loved her. No…I did love her. I do love her. But I needed to hate her right now, so I had to push all that aside.

“I’m not mad at you, Kiera. I’ve been exceedingly nice to you.” Even though she wasn’t looking at me, I gave her a snide smile. “Most women thank me for that.” And write me off, just like you did.