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“Yeah, I kinda guessed that when you kissed me.” His tone is lighter, and when I look back at him, I see him smiling.
“I didn’t kiss you. You kissedme.”
“You didn’t push me away.”
“Because I like you, which is why I want to know more about you. So why won’t you tell me anything? If you’re worried I’d tell other people in town, I swear to you, I wouldn’t. Whatever you tell me will stay between just us.”
He lets out a breath and looks down at my hand, which is now wrapped around his.
“Sage, I—“ He stops suddenly.
“You what?” I ask softly, feeling like he’s on the verge of finally telling me something.
He shakes his head. “I can’t.”
“You can’twhat? What is it you’re afraid to tell me?”
He looks up, his eyes searching my face like his mind is trying to decide what to say next.
“What is it, Kyle? Just tell me. I promise I won’t tell anyone.”
He gets up and walks to the side of the room. “I’m sorry, Sage, but I don’t want to talk about it.”
“About what? Is there something in particular or do you just mean in general?”
“I don’t want to talk about my past. It wasn’t good, and it’s something I’d rather not relive by telling someone else. If you want to know my favorite color or favorite food or what side of the bed I sleep on, then go ahead and ask. But as for my past and my family? I don’t want to talk about it and I’m asking you to respect that.”
“Come here.” I motion him to sit beside me. When he does, I say, “I understand what it’s like to want to hide stuff from people. Believe me, if I could’ve hidden the fact that I’m the daughter of a con man, I would have. Unfortunately, photos of me with my dad were plastered all over the news. But if I’d been able to hide it, I wouldn’t have told anyone, except maybe someone I felt close enough to tell. Someone I trusted.” I pause. “Maybe over time you can trust me enough to talk about it. Because not talking about it can sometimes be worse than keeping it a secret.”
He’s looking at me, his eyes on mine. His lips part like he’s about to say something, but then he quickly looks down.
“I can’t talk about it,” he says.
I put my hand on his. “Okay.”
What he said about his past not being good makes me wonder if he has issues with his family. His mom is gone so maybe it’s his dad. Maybe his dad was abusive and Kyle left California to get away from him.
“Blue,” I say.
Kyle’s brows draw together. “Am I supposed to know what that means?”
“I’m guessing that’s your favorite color.”
He leans back against the couch, smiling. “Why blue?”
“It’s the color of the ocean and you chose to live near the ocean which means you must like it. And you’re moody, which reminds me of a storm brewing, when the sky goes from bright blue to dark blue. Blue fits your personality.”
“Well, I hate to say it but you’re wrong. On all accounts.” He leans toward me, putting his face close to mine. “First of all, I don’t like the ocean. Just looking at the waves makes me seasick. And forget about getting me on a boat unless you want to see me hurl for hours.”
“Huh. Okay, what else?”
“I’m not moody. I’m just going through a time of transition right now where I’m not sure about some things. I’m asking myself a million questions to figure out what I’m going to do next and I don’t have the answers. Then I move here and have people asking about my past, which I’m trying not to think about. I’d say all that gives me an excuse for not always being in the best mood.”
“So coming here wasn’t just about your book. It’s about getting away. You’re running from your—”
“No!” He stands up. “That’s not what I said!”
“Why are you getting so angry?”
