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Sometimes, I find him looking at me with this cryptic expression when I’m watching his boring movies.
Other times, however, he looks at me as if I’m an alien, which is usually my cue that he’ll leave. Other times, he locks himself in the bathroom for more than half an hour and comes out distraught, his real expression hidden behind the disturbing control that he wields so well.
It doesn’t help that whenever I ask him if everything is okay, he lies through his teeth with that fake smile and says the word that I hate the most now.Fine.
He’s anything butfine, but I don’t know how to get him to talk. That is, if I’m supposed to do that when we’re not in a relationship.
Bran is a vault. No matter how much I bang on the surface, it never cracks. He always, without a doubt, slips behind the steel walls and closes himself off.
A tap on my shoulder brings me back to the present and I find my cousin staring at me. “Are you thinking about them? A man? A woman? Both?”
“Fuck off, Kill.”
“Honestly, I can’t imagine you in a relationship.”
“Why the fuck not?” I snap.
He pauses, raising an eyebrow. “You’re too volatile. Besides, you said you don’t want a partner. Ever. Since you’re a free soul and refuse to be tied down.”
Right. I did say that.
Fuck. I completely forgot that I actually used to think that way not too long ago. What is it about Bran that makes me want to fucking tie him to me?
It’s the conquest, right?
Just because I have his body, I don’t have his soul, and I’m on the edge because I want his everything.
Once he hands that over, I’ll discard him.
Right?
“So?” Kill shoves my shoulder with his. “Who changed your precious set of anti-monogamy rules? You can tell me. Must be killing you to keep it all to yourself.”
“You really want to know?”
He nods.
I beckon him with one finger. “Come here. It’s a secret.”
He inches close and I smack him on the nape. “Mind your fucking business and stop being nosy.”
My cousin massages the assaulted spot. “You’ll regret that.”
“Take it as payback for all the times you throw shit at me.” I break out in evil laughter and continue strolling down the street.
Kill grabs me by the arm and pushes me in the opposite direction. “Let’s grab a coffee first.”
“And croissants.” I stroke my stomach. “You think they have macarons?”
“Don’t think so.” He watches me. “Since when do you like macarons?”
“I always have.”
“No, you haven’t. Your sweet tooth usually ends at donuts.”
I hum but say nothing. I might have started indulging in them since Bran bought some once. I finished the whole box in one night and had a mini sugar coma.
He’s started hiding them from me since then and only leaves two pieces out like a stingy asshole.
