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“Here comes the gorilla for the monkey.”
“Nooo!” he shrieks as I attack him, tickling his side until he gasps with giggles and laughter.
It’s only after he raises the white flag that I finally leave him alone and kiss him three times – two on his adorable cheeks and one on his forehead. “Sweet dreams, little monkey.”
“Night, Kimmy.”
I push his hair back and kiss him one more time before leaving his room.
After changing into a denim skirt and a camisole, I go outside just in time to find Ronan pulling in.
We agreed to meet once the game was over, but I never thought he’d be here straight after.
He swings the door of his Mazda open and barges outside. He still has bruises around his mouth from the fight with Xander.
It must hurt.
Just like all the bruises Xander came to school with must hurt.
No, I don’t care about him.
Ronan gathers me in a hug, scooping me off the ground. “We won!”
I squeal as he spins me around before finally putting me to my feet.
“So happy for you.”
“Liar.” He glares at me. “You could’ve been happy by actually being there.”
“I had to spend time with Kir.”
“Or you could’ve brought him with you.” He leans in to whisper, “Which means, you’ve been running away.”
“Fine. Can we go?” I really don’t want to run into Xan if he comes home now.
Although the football team usually celebrates the win at the Meet Up after every game, I’m not taking any chances.
“Sure.” He ushers me into the car, even opening the door for me.
He’s such a gentleman – protective, caring. Why can’t I fall asleep thinking about him? Why can’t I obsess over him? Have my chest squeeze for him?
If I’d had a choice in my heart’s admission process, it would’ve been Ronan.
Or that’s what I tell myself.
The car revs into life, leaving the neighbourhood, and I blow out a long breath.
“He didn’t play,” Ronan says with a smile that’s different from his easy-going ones.
Xander didn’t play? But why? He’s always a startup, except that time the coach punished him and Aiden because of a fight.
But I won’t allow myself to get sucked into that orbit. I stare out of the window at the upper-middle-class villas passing us by. “I don’t care.”
“Coach knows about the fighting and drinking and benched him,” Ronan continues, deaf to what I said.
I face him, unable to help myself. “Fighting and drinking?”
“He has an issue.” Ronan taps his fingers on the steering wheel as if he’s enjoying music that doesn’t exist.
