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I know what it was. Of course, I know.
It's too soon.
It's not a good sign.
It's too soon.
It’s not real. Nothing that happens this fast can be real.
It can’t be.
His voice drifts to me and I run to the bathroom, away from the sound. Away from him.
It's too soon.
twenty-seven
Kylian
I watch as she runs down the stairs, as if she can't get away fast enough.
"Fuck," I growl under my breath, reaching for the phone on the nightstand. What the hell was I thinking? I can’t say that yet, not yet.
A glance down on the phone screen has me launching it over to the end of the bed. Dear ol' Uncle Gerry. What the fuck does he want now?
Whatever it is, he’s going to have to wait until tomorrow. I've never been one to avoid work on the weekends; in fact, my presence at the office on a Saturday is usually expected. But today, just for once, I’m going to make a special exception, no work. And that means no Uncle Gerry.
Thank fuck.
I climb down from the bed and swipe on the screen so that his name doesn’t ruin my day and see a text from Nathan. "Cook out, Tuesday evening at 6:30 p.m. Should still be able to catch some sunlight before we have to go inside.”
My best friend’s name draws my teeth together in a stressed expression. It is impossible to avoid thinking about how Kiara and I are going to handle telling her family that we are together.
Is it too soon to be thinking about those things?
We've fallen into each other at such a velocity, that the outside world has been like a hazy fog circling the fever dream of our affair.
But the reality is that we haven’t really talked about what we’re doing. We've just been too busy doing it.
Just doing what feels right.
And right now, what feels right is just being with her.
I do a quick ten-minute workout, kicking and punching the punching bag until I’m breathless, releasing my frustrations at not knowing where Kiara and I were going. I work up a sweat, blood pumping, and then take a quick shower, the whole time wishing she were in there with me. Something feels off after she ran off, and I have to fix it.
When I emerge, I pull on my favorite pair of Levi’s and pad down to the living area, barefoot, bare chested.
"Kylian," Kiara says, when she sees me, drying her hair with a towel on the couch. "You're going to need to put on more clothes than that."
I tuck my hands in my pockets and spin around. "You can't talk. Is that another one of my T-shirts?"
"Yes. Is that okay?"
I hate how she still feels like she has to ask. She can have anything and everything of mine that she wants. "If you’re asking if it's okay for you to wear my clothes, absolutely, yes. Anything you see in the apartment, you can have. If you’re asking me if it's okay for you to gallivant around my apartment, with that T-shirt barely covering the tops of your thighs... then... absolutely yes. Just don't be surprised when you put me in an early grave.
She covers her face with the towel and lets out a little giggle that is so fucking adorable it hurts to watch her.
"So, where are we going today? Since you insist that the pleasure of my presence is not enough for you."
