Thin Love (Thin Love, #1)(14)
“You really are full of yourself.”
“You don’t know me.” He knocked his knuckles against her wrist so that she’d know he wasn’t pissed.
“And you don’t know me.” Keira cleared her throat, as though she wanted to push back her humor and the smile Kona had raised in her. Pen in hand, she pulled the notebook toward her and tapped the end against the white paper. “So why don’t we stop chatting and get through this. The sooner it’s over, the quicker we can go back to acting like we don’t know each other.”
“There’s a problem with that.” When she frowned again, seeming a little confused that he was challenging her, Kona made sure his smile was sweet and not flirty, that he didn’t bite his lip. “Maybe I want to know you now. You’re angry, maybe I want to know why that is. I like girls who don’t put up with shit.”
“Sounds like you’ve got some mommy issues.” Kona’s smile shifted swiftly and Keira grabbed his hand, gave it a playful shove. “Hey, that was a joke. You know, funny, ha ha?”
“Yeah. I’m in freakin’ stitches. How would you like me trashing your mom?”
“Honestly, I wouldn’t care.” She sat back, withdrew from the good nature of their interaction and Kona knew he’d hit a nerve. “I know what a domineering bitch my mom is. Go ahead an insult her all you like.”
“Well, that’s just sad.”
“Spare me your sympathy.”
Kona wasn’t good with awkward silences. Really, he hadn’t experienced many of them. He always seemed able to take the funk out of any girl he’d pissed off or lighten the mood with a little flirting, maybe some mild touching. But Keira wasn’t like the girls he’d been around. She didn’t do bullshit pacifying. She was blunt, and he liked that about her, but he also knew there was a reason she rarely smiled. He didn’t know her well enough to ask where that came from so he relied on what he was good at; on the skills that never failed to keep girls happy when he was around them.
“Hey, what do you call a dog with no legs?”
“What the—”
“You can call him anything you want, but that * ain’t coming to you.”
And just like that, the awkwardness passed. Keira’s laughter returned and despite the dumbass joke, Kona smiled, liking that she wasn’t so uptight that she didn’t dismiss his attempt to lighten the mood.
“Oh, that’s bad.”
“I know, but it made you smile.” He pulled out his own pen and moved Keira’s notebook around so he could write on it. “Come on, let’s get this shit done.”
“Three years of off-the-radar self-defense classes, Kona. I don’t need a bodyguard.”
“Off the radar?”
Keira shrugged, a flippant gesture that she had to force. She wasn’t interested in detailing her private life. Not to Kona, not to anyone really. “My mom’s radar. She doesn’t think women who are athletic can find husbands so I took the self-defense classes when I supposed to be going to Mass.”
Keira was reminded of Father Reynolds, the funny, excitable Irish priest in her parish. He’d had an affinity for Bruce Lee and was obsessed with jiu jitsu. When she’d asked him about self-defense classes in the privacy of the confessional, Father Reynolds forgot all about doling out absolution for her transgressions. Instead, they made a pact. He’d cover for her when her mother mentioned Keira attending Mass, but she had to promise to show him what she’d learned.
“But you run track.” Kona’s deep voice erased the warm memory of Father Reynolds and his boney legs trying to perfect a roundhouse. Keira noticed that Kona wasn’t walking behind her now. He was at her side, so close she could smell the faint hint of sweat and cologne.
“Yeah, well, running doesn’t count to her. Not much of what I do counts for much with her.” A brief glance up at his face and Keira smiled, amused by how confused Kona looked. It was that frown, those pushed together eyebrows that had Keira finishing her explanation. “She says track is good for my muscle tone and will keep my hips narrow.” Another scan at him and Keira stopped walking. He was no longer frowning, no longer seemed perplexed by her explanation. Kona watched her for a moment, something he did when she told him unbelievable things, and she hated the pitying expression on his face. She hated that he was gleaning more about her relationship with her mother, just as he had tried to do when they were in the study room.
Seeing that expression unnerved her. So did the way he stood at her side, with his eyes fanning around them. He looked on guard, territorial. Keira didn’t like how casually they walked together. She did not like that their steps had kept time with one another, that their movements down the steps and onto the sidewalk felt comfortable, natural. “Point being, I don’t need you to walk me to my dorm.”
“It’s late, Keira.” He didn’t stare at her when he said that. Instead, Kona looked over her head, to the empty sidewalk and the road that ran in front of them. The rain had slowed to a mist and the sky above had calmed. Still, Keira wasn’t scared of the emptiness. She craved it. It had often been a companion that she never tried to drive away.
“It is,” she told him, adjusting her backpack further up her shoulder before she walked away from Kona. He followed. “And I’m capable of fending off would-be whoevers.”