She Loves Me, She Loves Me Not(7)

Chapter 6: Quartered

Gage

Kenny eyes the vanilla latte like it’s a homemade bomb instead of a nice gesture. Her friend, Cam, is smiling at me, which helps to ease the knots in my stomach that formed when I saw them standing together.

Call me crazy, but I really don’t want Kenny to have a boyfriend.

Before I can ask her if she’s allergic to coffee, or just nice gestures, her friend speaks up. “Look, Kennedy, Gage brought you a coffee. Isn’t that nice?” I’m ninety percent sure Kenny thinks this gesture is a lot of things, nice not being one of them, but, after another second of hesitation, she reaches out and takes the travel cup from me.

I hold onto it just long enough that she has to drag her fingers against mine. The contact brings a little bit of heat to her cheeks, turning that olive skin a gentle pink.

“Thank you.” She doesn’t choke on the words, though they sound a little rusty.

“You’re welcome.” We stand awkwardly for a second, me staring at her, her staring anywhere but me, and Cam watching us both. If her plan is to ignore me, and wait for me to leave, she’s about to be disappointed. Rather than fidgeting or trying to make small talk that I know she’ll shoot down, I stand next to her and enjoy the view that is Kennedy Russo.

Her brown hair is piled on top of her head today, and, for a second, my fingers itch with the urge to sink into it and pull it free, just to watch is cascade down around her. I stick my hands into my pockets, allowing my eyes to trace a line down her figure and back up. She’s small—like a foot shorter than me, small. Her legs look nice in dark jeans, though, and I smile when I see her Chucks again. She’s wearing a teal hoodie, zipped up almost all of the way. The small expanse of skin I can see inside of the small jacket is smooth and tanned.

How I missed the hotness that is Kenny in the last three years, I don’t know. It has to be straight population related—fourteen hundred students, only one Kenny.

Whether he really has some place to be, or he’s giving in to the discomfort and fleeing, Cam clears his throat and makes his exit. I can’t say I’m sad to see him go.

“Whelp… I need to get some help on my math homework. You two kids have fun.”

Kenny’s head whips up. “I can help you,” she begins, but he’s already halfway to the door, leaving her glaring after him.

Swinging a friendly arm around her shoulders, I feel Kenny tense, but I ignore it. “Looks like it’s just the two of us, my darling life-partner. Why don’t we go somewhere, so we can talk about our next five weeks while you drink your coffee?”

She stares after Cam for a second longer, and though the urge to pull her closer is strong, I resist. I’m ninety percent sure they aren’t an item, but I have to ask before this goes further. Because, while I’m finding I like the idea of things going further with Kenny, I’m no homewrecker.

“You can call your boyfriend about his homework later.”

Her head snaps around, shoving her face into my side before she tilts back enough to look up. “Why do you keep saying that?”

“What?”

“Boyfriend. Cam’s my friend. I don’t have a boyfriend.”

Booyah. My expression stays neutral, but inside my mind is a-wandering. “You do have a life-partner, though.” I give her a smile. She frowns, and, though I think her eyes instinctively try to go to slits to convey her loathing and irritation, it also appears that she’s battling that instinct, choosing instead to show only mild disdain for my statement. Interesting.

“About that,” she says, all brisk business. Why it’s appealing to me I’ll never know. “I outlined a plan last night in a Google doc, so I can print a copy for you.”

“Then, let’s head to the library.”

Between the bus drop off and library, Kenny pulls a few ninja maneuvers and sneaks out from underneath my arm. I could countermove, but I play it low key instead, letting her walk a safe two feet away from me in the empty hallways, lest anyone see us together. In the library, I head to a cozy chair in the corner while she signs on to a computer and prints her outline.

Since it’s still early—way earlier than I’m usually at school, mind you—there’s only a few other students scattered throughout the space, and one librarian behind the large U-shaped desk. I sit in the deep-seated chair, and watch Kenny, enjoying the way she ignores everyone else while she completes her task and searches the library for me. When she spots me, she frowns, but heads over, holding out a clean piece of white printer paper with a rather simple outline on it.

I skim over it, raising my brows when I see that it includes questions to be answered and uploaded. Nowhere on the outline does it show actual time spent together. When I’m done, I look up at her.

“You want to plan our future through a Google doc?”

She takes the chair snugged across from mine, sitting on the edge while she sips from the coffee, nodding when she lowers the cup. “It’s more practical. This way, you don’t have to keep seeking me out, and neither of us have to change our lives. We just get our assignment each week, upload them to the doc, and answer them.” She must see my face because she frowns. “The instructions never explicitly say that we have to discover these things about our partners in person. They just said we have to get to know them.”