Thin Love (Thin Love, #1)(18)
In one of the frames, Kona spotted a smiling Keira, probably ten or so years younger with her arm around the waist of a man that had to be a relative. Standing on the deck of the paddleboat, the Creole Queen, with the Mississippi River wide and endless behind them, they had the same smile, the same bright, round blue eyes and both stared at the camera with their heads tilted to the right. Kona thought Keira hadn’t changed much since that picture was taken. Sure, she’d grown, her hips were now wider, her limbs longer, but her face looked much the same—open, honest with the faintest spattering of freckles dotted sparsely over her cheeks.
Next to that picture was a current one of Keira wearing a fairy costume with wide, green wings and glitter intricately arranged around her eyes. She was smirking, not smiling wide as though she was happy, but she still looked friendly, relaxed. At her side was that Leann girl Kona had always seen her with, dressed in coordinating fairy wings, blue with yellow edges. Upon closer inspection of both faces, Kona saw similarities—Leann’s hair was lighter, thinner and her eyes weren’t quite as round or as blue, but the high cheekbones were the same, as was the arch of their noses and the full pout of their lips.
“My cousin, Leann. We room together,” Keira said, coming to stand next to Kona. He nodded, but made his gaze return to the picture of Keira as a little girl. The frame was cold in his hand when he picked it up and he motioned the picture toward her, curious.
Kona noticed that Keira’s face softened when her eyes ran over the picture, that the straight line of her mouth was less severe. After a few seconds, she blinked and looked up at him. “My dad.” She took the picture from Kona, kept her gaze on the glass for a few seconds, thumb moving over the man’s face, before she replaced it on her dresser.
“When did he die?” His question surprised her, and the soft edges of her faint smile twisted into a frown. “You’d make a crap actor, Keira. Everything you’re thinking is all over your face.” Kona moved his chin toward the picture, but didn’t take his eyes off her expression. “No way you’d look at your dad like that if he was still around.”
She exhaled, shoved the hair off her shoulder and when she spoke, her voice was low, so low in fact that Kona thought she didn’t want him hearing her. “I was ten.” Then louder, she said, “I don’t talk about it.”
He wouldn’t push her. The night had been stupid with drama and from the brief time they’d spent together Kona figured out that Keira’s temper was swift. He just didn’t have the energy to argue with and he was damn tired of apologizing.
He gave her a nod, a silent understanding he hoped would let her know he wouldn’t pry.
Keira waved her hand around the room, a flippant gesture. “Where do you want to do this?”
One step toward the bed, as Keira moved in the same direction, and their shoulders touched. She wobbled a little unsteady on her feet and Kona held her elbow, his fingers moving down to her wrist. That same weird sensation he’d felt outside returned when she pulled his fingers from her arm. He didn’t know what the hell it was or if it meant anything at all, but he noticed how Keira held her breath at the touch, how her bottom lip dropped so that her mouth formed the smallest circle. Yeah, she felt it too, but his brief experience with her, had Kona guessing she would play it off, act as if the electricity she felt came from carpet static at her feet.
She blinked, moved her eyes away from him and Kona repressed the urge to call her out, tell her she was ignoring whatever was heating the air in her room. Instead, he chose to flirt.
He made sure his voice was deep, commanding before he took a step, got too close, breathed too hard against the top of her head. “Get on your bed.”
“What?” she said, eyes round, a little frightened.
Kona moved the right side of his mouth up, bit back the small flirty comment that itched the tip of his tongue. Keira was jumpy, a little anxious and he liked it. “How else am I supposed to check out your back?”
The small attempts he’d made tonight at getting her to relax were gone. The Keira standing in front of him, taking a step, two steps back as he walked toward her, reminded him of the girl he met in class earlier in the week. She tugged her hair off her neck and kept her eyes on her shoes. She was clearly nervous, obvious in her discomfort and Kona knew why. At least, he thought he did. Despite her attitude, the occasional sailor language, Keira was a good girl, the kind that didn’t often have boys in her room, maybe the sort that rarely spoke to guys in general. That told him one thing—she was inexperienced.
Ignoring that thought, Kona sighed, made sure he stepped back so that the burning red color on her cheeks would fade. “I’ll be a gentleman. Promise.” Kona motioned toward the bed, tried not to laugh as Keira eyed him, settled on the mattress with her back straight.
He wanted to laugh, to make a joke about how nervous she was, how stupid it was to think he’d try to take advantage of her. Then the blush on Keira’s face grew, shifted down her neck, to her arms and Kona caught a glimpse of her fingers, of her lips, shaking as though she’d caught a chill.
I make her nervous, he realized and the thought had him feeling contradictory emotions—pride, knowing that she wasn’t as resistant to him as she liked to pretend she was, and shame, remorse, that him just being here was making an already shitty night worse.
Back tight like a horse needle, Keira stilled, stopped moving completely as Kona slipped behind her, bringing his knee next to her hip. The proximity wasn’t necessary, but Kona wanted to test this thing, that weird electric something that had moved between them outside. He wouldn’t push her, hell no, that wasn’t his style, but he had caught a couple of glances from her in the library that made him think she wasn’t as disgusted by him as he thought. Really, he should have felt like a bastard. Less than a foot separated them on Keira’s firm, too tidy, too white bed. His breath moved down her back, rustling the brown hair that covered her cardigan. He could feel something there, something strange, something he couldn’t decide if he liked. And Kona knew he should give her distance, shouldn’t use Keira like a guinea pig.