When she told me she was being followed and harassed, panic and adrenaline sliced through me. And rage. Raw fucking rage.
I’ve been angry plenty of times in my life. I get pissed off almost every single game I play. The ref makes a shitty call or one of the players on the opposing team lands a cheap shot on me or starts a fight.
But what I felt last night was different. Knowing that this guy targeted Kendall and went out of his way to make her feel unsafe lit a rage fire inside of me.
My body was on autopilot. I wasn’t thinking; just reacting. I jumped out of the shower, put on the bare minimum clothing I needed to be in public, and ran out of my house and into the street.
When I saw her running toward me, when I saw the fear in her eyes as that piece of shit trailed her, something inside of me snapped.
First priority was to make sure she was okay, so as soon I made it to her, I hugged her. And then I fucking lost it.
It took everything in me not to tear that guy to shreds, to only punch him once. After hearing that scumbag taunt her over the phone as he followed her, every muscle in my body was aching to rip his fucking head from his body.
Even now when I think about it, my body tenses. I take another slow, deep, quiet breath to try and calm myself.
Don’t think about him. Focus on Kendall. Focus on the fact that she’s safe and in your arms.
I lean up and slowly slide away from her. She stirs for a second but stays asleep.
For a second, I sit on the couch and stare at her, looking like an angel.
My heart feels like it’s expanding in my chest.
And that’s when I know. This thing with Kendall isn’t just a couple of friends who like to fuck. It’s so much more than that for me.
And if I’m being honest, it’s felt like more from the get-go. I’ve known Kendall for almost a decade. I’ve liked her as more than a friend for almost that whole time.
I’ve always cared about her. I’ve always wanted to be more than friends.
I want her to be more than just the friend I hook up with sometimes. I want her to be my girlfriend. I want her to stay atmy place and spend the night in my bed and wake up next to me in the morning.
I run my hand through my hair, dizzy as emotions run wild inside of me.
A second later, my brain catches up.
That’s not what she wants, remember? She told you that she can’t handle a relationship. You told her the same. If you tell her how you feel now, you’ll just freak her out.
Disappointment zooms through me. I can’t spill my feelings to Kendall, no matter how much I want to. I just need to be a good friend and give her the support she needs.
I stand up and pad to the hallway bathroom to piss. Then I quietly walk back to the kitchen and open the fridge.
A half-hour later, I’m stirring pancake mix in a bowl. Kendall sits up, stretches, and yawns. When she turns around, she flashes the most adorable sleepy smile. Her hair is wild, her face is puffy, and she looks so beautiful, my chest aches.
“Morning,” she says.
I smile. “Good morning.”
“What are you making?” she asks.
“Pancakes.”
“With chocolate chips?”
“Duh.”
She lets out her normal bright and joyful sounding laugh, and I’m grinning wide, I’m so happy. It feels good to hear her laugh like that after how scared she was last night.
She hops up from the couch and scurries to the hallway bathroom. I fire up the griddle pan and pour pancake batter onto the hot surface.
