Thin Love (Thin Love, #1)(23)
“It’s not a date. It’s research.”
“Is your mom coming to campus or something?” Leann’s voice was a little worried, anxious as though she was concerned Keira’s mother could be showing up. Leann was her mother’s only niece, the only person left of the brother she lost years before. But Keira’s mother always had a somewhat Scrooge/Fred relationship with Leann. They’d never gotten along.
Keira lowered her guitar, pulling her fingers from the frets in order to give her cousin her full attention. “Not that I know of. Why?”
“You cleaned my junk.” Leann glanced around the room. It had taken Keira an hour to put away Leann’s things, to organize her cousin’s mess so that their room didn’t look like a tornado had touched down in it. It always bothered Leann when Keira did this, as though the tidiness was some sort of insult to the weird, unkempt way Leann filed her belongings. “Your stuff is always sorted because you’re an OCD clean freak, but you cleaning my shit? Something is up.”
“Nothing is up, calm down.” Keira picked up her guitar and strummed a few notes, not eager to hear the big deal she knew Leann would make about tonight. She didn’t look at her cousin’s frown or the way she tapped her foot against the carpet, the soft pat of her dance shoes not making a sound. There would be suspicion, Keira knew, and quite a bit of warning because that’s what Leann did when she thought Keira was being irresponsible. She had never understood why her cousin, who was only six months older than her, always felt it necessary to treat Keira like a kid. Maybe it was because Leann got to experience life a bit more. Maybe it was because Leann’s mother wasn’t as controlling, as overbearing as her own.
Whatever the reason, Keira’s cousin was wary on her behalf. Always. When she didn’t immediately explain her reasons for cleaning up Leann’s mess, the girl sat next to her on the bed. “Well?”
Keira looked down at the fret board, plucking out a soft, sweet melody she hoped would calm her cousin. “Um, Kona Hale is coming by to watch Les Mis.”
She didn’t notice Leann’s reaction, too focused on the notes under her fingers and so she was a little shocked that Leann grabbed the neck of the guitar, stopping Keira’s fingers. “What?” she asked her cousin.
Keira wanted to laugh at Leann’s wide eyes. “Did you say Kona Hale?” At Keira’s nod, Leann dropped her hand from the guitar and leaned back. “I don’t think I can wrap my brain around the fact that you are going to have a real live boy in this room, not to mention that boy is CPU’s resident whore.”
“Leann, we’re working on a project together. There will be no whorish activity going on.”
The older girl seemed doubtful, suspicious, and then annoyed when Keira rolled her eyes and returned her attention to her guitar. “Keira, you don’t know what kind of person he is. Besides, I thought your mom has been after you about Mark Burke.”
“She keeps trying to get me to go to the hospital and accidently run into him when he’s there doing his internship. ‘To have lunch with Steven, oh, look, it’s Mark.’ But I haven’t gone yet.”
“Is he ugly?”
“No idea, Leann.”
“Well, he might be better than Kona Hale, at least.” When Keira ignored her, Leann threw a plain, blue pillow at her.
“You really think that of every guy on campus, I’d pick him?”
“He is pretty.”
“Oh, he’s gorgeous, but I’m not stupid.” She adjusted her body, turning toward her cousin with her arms resting on her Gibson. “And I’m not blind. I know how Kona operates. I also know that he’s not interested in me. Not like that.”
Keira didn’t like the look Leann gave her. It was pity and sympathy and all the things that she never wanted to see on anyone’s face when they looked at her. Especially not Leann. Her cousin knew this. She knew that above all, Keira wanted to be free from the control that had weighed her down her whole life. She knew that Keira wanted to make mistakes because she’d never been allowed to before.
So Leanna did what she always did when there was tension between them. She pulled on the end of Keira’s long hair and gave it a tug, gentle, but just enough to tell Keira she was sorry for doubting her.
“Bitch,” Keira said, her head down and gaze still focused on her guitar.
“Brat,” Leann returned and she stretched her legs across the bed and nudged Keira with her foot. “Play me that sad song.”
Keira knew what she meant. Leann had been requesting that same song for months now, ever since she and her boyfriend Michael started sleeping together. Leann was happy it happened, she’d told Keira that much, but she suspected that her cousin missed that sex was one experience she’d never get to have again for the first time.
There were smooth grooves on the fret board; slight dips that Keira’s father had made over the years. They were wider than Keira’s fingertips, but whenever she played her father’s guitar, she felt close to him. It was like reaching through the ether and touching him, paying tribute to the hope, the heartache he’d laid down on that instrument. Keira’s own emotion, the sliver of hope that lived in her heart, came through with every note, with each line of lyric that left her mouth.
He’d taught her to play at eight and by nine, she was as good as he’d ever be. He told her she had a natural ability, that he wanted her to never forget what it felt like with the music in her mind, swelling her heart the very first time she played.