“Kim,” I repeat.
“Can we?”She flicks her head motioning back towards the hall.
“Yeah, of course.I was just about to make breakfast.Are you hungry?”
“Starving,” she says, but in a way that makes me feel like I’m not going to get my French toast.
“How about you show me your room first?I only have a minute.”
“Mm,” is all I can manage.Tate witnessing the whole thing makes this extra painful.I start moving back through the hall like a cow to the slaughter.When we reach my room, I let her walk in first.She’s in a white tank top covered with small cherries and jean cutoff shorts.It’s November.But everyone’s saying it’s normal to have an Indian summer in LA.
“Close the door, please.”
I turn, looking longingly at the empty space in the hall before obliging.
“Come here,” she calls, sitting on the foot of my bed.Once I’m close enough, she runs her hands up the sides of my thighs to my hips and back down again.
“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.Come down here.”She pulls at one of my belt loops, and like the dog I am, I obey as she pulls my body to hers.I try to keep my expression neutral, but once I’m on top of her, all I see is Tate.My head is filled with Tate.What must she be thinking?Is she going to hate me?On the other hand, maybe this is exactly what I need to get over whatever this thing is with Tate.
Kim grabs a fistful of my hair from the back of my head, using it as leverage to pull my mouth to hers.Familiar lips press themselves into mine, her tongue begging for entrance.I open, but my movements are lazy, and after a minute she stops, pushing my face back with her hand.
“Gosh, if I weren’t me, I would swear you’re not into it.”She says it lightly but to the point.I roll off of her and onto my back, letting the mattress knock my hat to the floor.I cup my forehead, pressing the hair up and out of my face.
“I know, I’m sorry.I’m pretty bad company right now.It’s hard for even me to be around me.”I turn my head to look at her.She’s looking back at me thoughtfully.Probably thinking I’m a puzzle with one too many pieces missing.
“What’s this tattoo for?”I ask, turning to my side and tracing the outline of a black clapboard on the inside of her wrist.
She inhales a deep breath, like she’s been asked that too many times, before telling me, “It’s nothing.”
She rolls to match my body, lying on her side.I reach over to push a flyaway blonde strand from her face.
“It’s obviously not nothing.You got it tattooed on your wrist.”
She laughs, shoving me once in the shoulder for good measure.
“Well, like a lot of little girls growing up in Hollywood, I dreamed of being an actor and making it onto the big stage.My mom is in the industry, so it always felt like joining the family business.”
“I think that’s cool.You should do that,” I chime in, and this time I let her push me onto my back.
“I think I liked you better when you had me up against a wall.”
“Yeah, well, I was definitely more on brand then.”
She rolls till she’s lying on her belly, looking down at me, lips twisting in consideration.
“Does this have anything to do with that walking pack of Skittles you’re always around?”
Just the mention of Tate makes me feel dizzy.Is she still with Slater?How many times did he “accidentally” touch her?
“Levi?”She’s giving me a clinical stare.
“Yeah, I guess it does.”
“You caught feelings, which explains why this”—she waves her finger between us— “sucks so bad.”
“I feel like sucks is a little strong.It wasn’t that bad...”
“Yes, if I enjoyed making out with a corpse then you would be perfect.”
