AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She patches me up in the laundry room, where we’re surrounded by the smell of fresh linens and warm air from the dryer.
I’m made to sit on the floor, so she can work more easily, because I’ve already hit six feet, and she doesn’t look like she’ll ever make five-and-a-half. She’s small, but sturdy, like it’d be hard to push her around or throw her off balance.
Once done, she stands to review her handiwork and gives me an approving nod. “You’ll do.” She tilts her head sideways. “I made your hair redder,” she says with a smirk.
“Not possible,” I counter, feeling my cheeks warm.
My entire life this far, I’ve been teased for my hair. I’m keenly aware that redheads aren’t especially appealing to my peers — girls, especially — and my hair is the fucking reddest.
Kira’s out of my league, and I fucking know it, but I’m enjoying being around her, so I’ll happily suffer an unrequited crush.
I look up at her and smile. “Thanks for the repairs. I should probably find you something else to wear. Your current style is projecting vibes somewhere betweenCarrieat her prom and someone having a postpartum hemorrhage.” I point at the lower half of her ruined dress, and then open the dryer, to pull out one of my T-shirts for her. I find one of Darius’ for me, while I’m hunting through the tangle of clothes for my favorite basketball shorts that must be in there.
Her face is pale when I present the clothes to her.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, glance around, to see what’s alarming her.
“How old are you?” she demands to know.
“Recently eighteen.”
Her dark eyebrows plunge deeper. “Not many eighteen-year-old guys know the phrasepostpartum hemorrhage, Quintus.”
I lower my offering of clothes. “How would you know? Have you asked many eighteen-year-old boys about their knowledge on the subject?Youknow what it is, and you’re what? Sixteen?”
“In two months, I will be,” she says in growl.
Nearly sixteen.
And fucking ferocious.
A combo my adolescent dick finds way too appealing. I turn away to shield my erection from her and quickly pull on the bigger of the two T-shirts, grateful for its length to hide my size.
Kira follows.
When I pull my head clear, she’s standing right in front of me, holding her ground. “I know all sorts of shit, from reading medical textbooks and watching every medical drama available on TV. How do you know about it?”
“Because I’ve seen one.” I gulp. “After my little brother, Atty, was born, there were complications. His mom nearly died. It was…” I shrug off the weight of those memories, not wanting to relive the event that almost cost me my second, much better, nicer mom. “She’s really nice, so it was good we didn’t lose her. Well, I mean, she doesn’t live here anymore, and we’re not really allowed to visit her, so wedidlose her, but not in the permanent sense.” I cringe. After learning of her mom’s passing, I hope she doesn’t think I’m being an insensitive dick about death.
“She wasn’t your mom, too?” Kira asks in a quiet voice.
I shake my head, the ache in my throat threatening to crack my voice if I speak.
“Where’s yours?” she presses.
I clear my throat. “I don’t know. She left when I was five, and we haven’t seen her since. She could be dead, for all I know and care.”
Kira winces at my cavalier statement, and I wish she’d throw another axe at my head. “Sorry. I… I have anger issues.”
“As well you might,” she says, regarding me carefully. “What were you so angry about, when I interrupted your murdering that tree stump?”
“My father adjusted my scheduled classes tobetter alignwith his proposed position for me in the family business. I told him he’d wasted his time, because I’d be following my heart, instead of shitty orders from an asshole-boss like him. It didn’t go down well.”
“I can imagine,” she says.
I shrug. “It’s fine. Cost me a year of home detention, but it was fucking worth it.”
She smiles a little. “What does following your heart mean? What do you want to do?”
