Undecided(29)

“I—”

“And I felt like an idiot.”

“Please—”

“And I was starving.” Because I wasn’t expecting to see Kellan for a while, I really hadn’t decided how to handle this confrontation. It looks like I’m going with the direct approach.

He rubs his free hand over his face. “I was drunk when I got home and I didn’t even remember. I turned off my phone at the game and this morning I saw the call from the restaurant asking about the reservation and it all came back to me and—I’m sorry, Nora. Really. Truly. Please forgive me. I like you and you’re a good roommate and I’d never hurt your feelings on purpose. Or make you hungry, for any reason.”

I try to hold onto my anger, but even though I’m offended to have been forgotten—again—the truth is, Crosbie’s visit took away a lot of the sting of Kellan’s disappearing act. I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding. “Forget about it,” I tell him. Unlike my “whatever” to Crosbie last night, this time I mean it. Those two events hurt on two wholly different levels, and I’m not about to risk taking the time to figure out why.

Kellan looks relieved. “Thank you,” he says, stepping in and folding me in an awkward hug. Apart from our initial handshake and one high five he insisted on after achieving a top score in Fire of Vengeance, I’m not sure we’ve ever actually touched. Except for that time we had sex and he forgot about it.

“No problem,” I say when we step back. “Now if you’ll excuse me…” I hold up the crackers. “I’m going to have breakfast, then take a shower.”

He eyeballs the crackers. “That’s breakfast?”

“It’s grocery day.”

“Do you want some mac and cheese instead? I have lots.”

My stomach roils. “I’m all set.”

Suddenly he points at me. “That’s it,” he announces, like he’s just solved all the world’s problems. “I’ll take you to the grocery store. I have a car, so we can go to Carters, not the place on campus.”

As much as I don’t want to rely on Kellan for anything right now—even something as simple as a trip to the grocery store—the campus shop is tiny and overpriced, which might account for my meager food supply. Carters is a huge chain store and a much better bet, but it takes three buses to get there and is too much of a pain to manage. “Are you sure?” I ask, narrowing my eyes doubtfully. “I’m not going to get out of the shower and find you missing?”

“Cross my heart,” he says, tracing an X on his chest with his index finger. And for once I don’t find myself admiring what a beautifully muscled chest it is—I’m wondering how much weight his words hold.

I guess we’ll find out. “Okay,” I say. “Give me twenty minutes.”

“I won’t move a muscle.”

My mind instantly fills with images of a sexy, muscled torso—but it’s not Kellan I’m picturing. “Make it ten,” I say, hightailing it out of the kitchen. No way I’ll be able to withstand a cold shower for longer.



*



Going to the grocery store with Kellan McVey is a lot like what I imagine it’s like to go to the grocery store with Zac Efron: it’s crazy. Everybody stares. It’s like no one has seen a handsome college kid before. And don’t get me wrong—Kellan’s super hot. But he’s wearing a ratty old T-shirt, sweatpants, sandals, and a baseball hat. He’s not trying whatsoever and yet every pair of eyes seems to follow him through the parking lot, into the store and down each aisle.

I can’t help but wish I’d dressed a little better for the outing. Because we were only coming to the grocery store, I’d opted for skinny jeans, ballet flats, and a baggy white button-up shirt. My hair is tied back and the only makeup I’d bothered with is mascara and tinted lip gloss. None of my clothes have holes in them, but you’d swear I was wearing garbage bags from some of the disapproving looks I get.

We’re in the cereal aisle when Kellan’s phone rings. He tugs it out of his pocket and glances at the display. “It’s Crosbie,” he says, then answers. “Yo.”

I can’t make out the words, just the muffled sound of Crosbie’s voice.

“Yeah,” Kellan says, scratching his ass and adding a box of granola to the cart. “I’m just at the grocery store with Nora. She was eating crackers for breakfast.”

A mumbled answer, then Kellan looks me over from head to toe. “I know,” he says. “I’m going to fatten her up.”

I make a face and he makes one back, and I can’t help but laugh.

“Actually,” he continues, “I’m trying to win my way back into her good graces. Remember how I told you I was taking her to dinner last night? I totally forgot about it and went to the game instead, so—”

I hear Crosbie’s frantic tone as he tries to interrupt. But it’s too late—I’d started to suspect as much last night, but now it’s confirmed: Crosbie knew Kellan stood me up. He knew we had dinner plans, he knew Kellan decided to go to the game—and he came over with some lame excuse about a video game then stuck around to “read” and order pizza. He saw the abandoned dress and heels in my room; he saw everything.