Kris winces like I projected the memory on the wall. “I had the flu. That doesn’t count.”
“The flu, my ass. She fucked with your head about you not being able to convince me to answer her calls, and you got so stressed out youstopped eating.So I will fucking worry.” Protectiveness rises up the back of my neck, but I keep my voice somewhat steady and ask again, “What did she say to you?”
Kris rolls his eyes. “Nothing.I promise, I won’t talk to her again without checking with my real mother first.” He waves at me, apparently christening me hisreal mother,and I hold out my hand.
“Give me your phone.”
“What? Why?”
“I’m blocking her number.”
“Fuck off. I don’t need you to block her number for me.”
“So you’ll do it on your own?”
He runs his tongue across his teeth.
I grab for his arm. “Give me your phone.”
He recoils, hip slamming into the kitchen counter. “Shit, ow—no! Get off me.”
“Give it.” I reach around him, knowing he has it lodged in his back pocket. “I’ll kick your ass, Kris, I swear to god.”
“I’m not giving you my phone, dipshit.”
“Yes, you are. Drop it. Sit. Stay. Roll over.”
“No! Jesus Christ—I am not giving you my phone.It’s full of porn—”
He may have more muscle on me, but I have more height, and I try to use that advantage, cocooning him like a spider, all limbs and angles. My elbow jabs near his kidney—accidentally, sort of—and he plummets to one knee. I follow.
“Ow—fuck.This stalling tactic is pathetic, even for you,” he grumbles from underneath me.
I peel myself off, and when he looks up, I point at him.
“Don’t talk to her. I’m serious. If you need to say something to her, tell me, and I’ll do it.”
“When was the last time you even talked to her?”
“I… responded to her text.”
“Liking her pic isn’t responding.”
“It’s enough. I’m serious, Kris. If you need to talk to her, I’ll do it for you. I don’t give a shit.”
Kris stands with a cautious stare. “If I agree, can I keep my phone?”
“Depends what kind of porn you have on it.”
“Classy.”
I go back and grab my suitcase. But I pause, staring at the wall, that protective anger still hot on the back of my neck.
Kris is quiet long enough that I look at him. He’s toeing a spot on the carpet.
I wheel my suitcase over. “All right. Fine. Let’s get this over with.”
He cocks an eyebrow, relief showing, that we’re done talking about her. For now. “Sound more miserable. Iris is already there.”
