King nods solemnly. “That’s how I feel.”
It’s always like pulling teeth trying to get Kingsley to act like he enjoys his life when recording. Every movement is stiff and forced, and our only good clips come when he’s so exhausted from repeating lines he delivers one outstanding, fluke of a take.
Thomas ponders. “Hmm. Maybe we can distract from your lackluster performance if you take your shirt off.”
Kingsley wastes no time speaking. “No.”
My brother doesn’t notice the firmness in his voice. “Alright, but if we want a shot in the hot tub, then you’ll have to.”
“Then we don’t get that shot.” His tone is unyielding, fostering an unsettling air between us. It’s silent for a moment before Thomas finally gets the hint and moves on.
Kingsley has his reasons for keeping his shirt on, and it has to be the same reason he’s always wearing clothes twice his size.
We’d seen him without a shirt at Fight Club, but he doesn’t know that. The crowd’s expressions and hushed whispersshowed they weren’t used to seeingthatKing. I had to bite my tongue from lashing out at strangers.
What makes them so entitled to gossip about someone else’s body? Even if Kingsley had been a whole bodybuilder last time they saw him, it doesn’t mean they needed to open their yappers, especially when he’s right there getting ready to fight.
But Ryland is right: Kingsley isn’t as hard as people try to make it seem. Where some men would’ve turned to destruction and revenge, he turned to retreat. And it looks like he hasn’t fully gotten out of it.
Is this the intel the Requiem is looking for? Should this be the information I give to Mother when she asks what we’ve learned in the month and a half we’ve been here? Fuck, it’s driving me crazy being in the dark. It’s like putting together a puzzle piece blind.
“Hey, King, if we get this last clip, you think I can go down a couple of slides?” Thomas asks. “Or am I not allowed since it’s technically closed?”
Kingsley shrugs. “Go for it.”
Suddenly, the next subpar take we get off Kingsley is good enough for Tommy, and he rushes off to the biggest slide without a goodbye.
We’re left in awkward silence. King and I haven’t been alone together since Thanksgiving, which has become another situation added to the list of things we don’t talk about. They’ve happened often when we’re alone, lately.
I wouldn’t mind it as much if it felt like they were bringing us closer, but sometimes I think I’ve cracked the code inside his head, and other times I know as much about him as a random fan. If we don’t speed this job up, I’ll go mad.
“Hot tub?” I suggest. “Beats watching Thomas have a blast.”
Kingsley’s lips roll together, contemplating. Then, he says, “Sure.”
The jacuzzi is close to the water slides, in its own little area. I toss my shirt on the floor, drop my phone on it, then dip my toes into the bubbling water. It isn’t as sizzling as I expected, but it’ll have to do. I sink into the hot tub and let out a relaxed sigh as the warmth soothes me.
Thomas and I haven’t had a relaxing day at the spa in… ever. So, this? This is heaven.
When I look up, Kingsley is standing above me, staring down.
“Like what you see?”
His eyes widen slightly, but then he rolls them. He joins me in the water seconds later, his white tee becoming transparent and clinging to his chest. King doesn’t leave much room between us, making us so close our knees keep bumping.
King leans back, shuts his eyes, and lets his arms float in the water. It’s probably been a long time since he’s relaxed like this, too.
He looks much more peaceful than usual. Kingsley strikes me as laid back, like nothing bothers him because he never cared in the first place, but I wouldn’t describe that as peaceful. But as he lies in the water, his jaw is slack, and his breaths are even, as if he’s not moving through life as if it’s a chore.
The cut on his lip from Victor has healed over the last week. Good. Victor’s ugly mug pops into my head, and my teeth clench. I wish I could join and show Victor how much worse I can do than rip the skin off him.
King’s lips part slightly as he breathes. Has he fallen asleep? We’ve only been in for five minutes.
A low grumble breaks me out of my thoughts. “I can feel you staring.”
I suck on my piercing in place of a response, because the response that comes to mind isn’t kind at all.
When Kingsley opens his eyes, the first place they look is my chest. “You have so many tattoos.”
