Thin Love (Thin Love, #1)(66)
“I’m not interested,” he told her, the adrenaline cooling in his veins, sobering him slightly.
The barmaid shuffled away from the table in a huff but Kona didn’t care, didn’t bother to apologize for being rude, didn’t even answer Nathan when he asked him why he made the redhead leave.
“I gotta take a piss,” he told Nathan, nodding to the few people that tried stopping him as he left the table. He felt the prickle of something familiar against his neck, that quiet whisper that had him hesitating earlier and as he made it to the bar, Kona looked to his right, squinted at Luka at the other end. His brother was talking to Brian and both shot a glare at him. He started to join them, moved around two girls who looked eager, happy that Kona was moving in their direction, but when Luka stepped back and Kona saw Keira holding a beer in her hand, when he caught the cool fire that licked anger and fury in her eyes, Kona stopped where he stood.
Had she seen his stupid scene with the redhead? Was that and his loud ass mouth why his brother was shooting venom at him with his expression? He considered both for a few seconds and then all thought left him as Keira whispered something in Luka’s ear, her hand laying lightly on his chest. His brother squeezed that hand, stood too close to her, held her attention for too long and Kona didn’t care if either of them was pissed off at him. He was going to find out what the hell they were doing there together and why his brother was touching his girl.
Kona pushed two guys out of his way with his shoulder as he hurried across the bar, ignoring their threats, careless about their protests. He wanted to get his hands around Luka’s neck, wanted to slug him again. The closer he got, the harder Keira stared at him and just before he met his brother in the middle of the bar, Keira turned away, guzzling on her bottle of beer as she headed toward the door.
“Brah, calm down,” Luka said, then his twin staggered back when Kona pushed his chest.
“What the f*ck are you doing here with her?” Brian was behind him, trying to hold him off of his brother, but Kona deflected his arms easily.
Luka straightened, then grabbed Kona’s collar, his face hard. “She came here to talk to you, *, but then you had your mouth all over that redhead’s tits.”
He slapped Luka off him, still reeling from the image of his brother touching Keira. “You didn’t f*cking answer me.”
Luka closed his eyes, rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I brought her here for you.”
“You… what?”
“Yeah, asshat, I talked her in to coming. I was trying to get her to give you another chance.” Luka straightened his shirt, took a swig of his beer. “You are such a f*ck up, you know that, right?”
Kona glanced toward the door, catching the back of Keira’s head as she left. “I know, brah.” He looked back at his brother, scratching his fingers over his face. “I know what I am.” And then Kona ran after Keira.
Keira was going back to her dorm to finish that damn song. The hook would come, she knew it would, but as she walked in front of the building, glancing once at the huge, vertical letters spelling “Lucy’s” against the chipping white paint, toward the parking lot, she tried to think of words that rhymed with “*” and “wayward dick.” Those were words she intended to include in her song. She decided then she’d call it “Kona Hale is a Useless Whore of a Boy.” It wasn’t a catchy title, but it damn well would make her feel better.
Maybe.
She dug in her pocket, searching for her keys as she took another swig of her beer, not caring that her fingers were freezing against the cold wind that blew through the alley and the frigid bottle in her hand. She wanted to drink, something she usually didn’t even think about. She wanted to be drunk and she thought of who on campus could score some liquor for her. That was her last thought—names of her dorm mates who had fake I.D.s or at least an old enough boyfriend—before the pound of feet behind her had her twisting around.
“You really need to go back inside.”
Kona didn’t even slow as he caught up to her. “Wildcat—” she pushed him, shutting him up with a shove.
“Do not even try it. Walk away.”
“Would you let me explain?”
She laughed at him, disgusted at herself, at him, at the useless hope that she held onto as she followed Luka through the city toward Lucy’s. Once again Kona had proved he would never change.
“There’s nothing to explain, Kona. You doing what you always do isn’t a surprise to anyone.” He looked like she’d slapped him and she was glad, for three full seconds, that she’d stung him. Then Kona’s face screwed up into something like a frown, it could have been a scowl. Keira planned to not stick around to find out. She gave him her back, made a double effort to find her keys in her deep pockets and was nearly to her Pontiac when Kona’s shout rang out behind.
“I don’t f*cking want anyone but you!”
Did he think she was stupid? Did he honestly think what she’d seen him doing tonight could be explained?
She turned around, bottle still in hand. She wanted so badly to slap him. Her fingers itched to do it, but then Kona moved quick, coming in front of her like a man ready to plead for his life with the executioner.
“I know what you saw. I know what it looked like, but Keira, my head isn’t on right tonight. I’m…” he growled, hands shaking as he turned away from her and kicked the plastic trashcan against the brick wall. Bending to catch his breath, Kona looked like he might vomit.