If he wants a response, I’ll give him one. In the form of my middle finger.
Kennedy barks out a laugh and grabs my finger, giving it a gentle squeeze. “See? I’m learning. I told you that I’d figure you out, and I meant it.”
Why he’d want to waste his time is beyond me. Still, a tiny trickle of warmth streams into my stomach that he’s actually making the effort. He’ll end up disappointed, but that’s on him.The problem is that I’m going to end up disappointed as well because no matter how much I try to live up to his opinion of me, I’ll never come close.
Goddammit.
Despite what the voices in my head say, IknowI’m not a bad person. Why shouldn’t I deserve someone like Kennedy? All those past relationships of his didn’t know how to treat him right, and if I had his attention, if he smothered me in it, made me the center of his universe, I’d worship the hell out of him every goddamn day.
I’d treat Kennedy the way he deserves.
So if he’s going to try to get to know me, I’m going to try and let him in.
Feeling like I’ve been possessed, breath bottled in my lungs, I reach over and dip my fingers into the hair at the base of his skull. It’s slightly dry and fluffy, long enough to twist through my grip.
“Ziggy?” he asks, surprised, but doesn’t pull away.
I focus on two words. Just two. It’s important to me to get them out so he knows that I don’t take him for granted. That I appreciate the way he’s here, just to be here, and doesn’t expect more than what I can give him.
It’s what makes me want to give him everything I can.
And when I finally let the words go, it’s relief. “Thank you.”
The diner is louder than I was expecting. I like it. Mostly because people leave us alone to get on with our work, and sitting in this booth, pressed tighter to Kennedy’s side than I strictly need to be to see the screen, it feels like we’re in our own little bubble.
Am I deluding myself?
Of course. This isn’t real, and it never will be, but he’s letting me sit this close and get away with it, so I plan to take full advantage. I spent the first little while being fascinated by how much technology has changed since I’ve been off the grid, but slowly, that fascination strayed from the screen to his fingers.
For hands that look like they’re made to be hauling timber and tearing apart insulation, his fingers move surprisingly nimbly over the keys. He talks through everything he’s doing, and I’m smart enough to follow along while being completely fucking enamored by him.
My heart hasn’t stopped all the little, sudden hiccups since we sat down. The smallest things bring it on, from him asking my opinion on site layout, to him having me point out what I want from the menu so he could order for me, to him chuckling over my amazement at his phone.
I dunno, Kennedy’s just a considerate guy. Growing up, my parents were more focused on working themselves into the ground to survive than anything else. In Wilde’s End, we’re a community, and we work together, but we’re still very much loners.
I’ve never had real friends, so I don’t know if this is how it normally is, but I don’t care. All I want is to focus on Kennedy. Maybe it’s some aspect of him being a shiny new toy or me becoming legitimately obsessed with what a perfect person he is, but I can’t stop thinking about him. Craving him. Wanting to be around him and nowhere else.
“Hey, Kenny.”
The cute voice makes me look up suddenly, and my gut lurches at the sight of a gorgeous woman in the diner uniform. Her curls are pulled back messily, and she has big lips and even bigger eyes. Eyes that are currently focused on the man beside me.
“Hey, Caroline. Late start today?”
“Had to take Mom for a doctor’s visit. Glad I got here in time to see you though.” Her gaze dips to his shirt. “You’re looking smart today.”
All the warmth and happiness from today disappears, like her flirty tone is the poison to my happiness. Kennedy doesn’t immediately answer her, but when I look over at him, he’s wearing the same smile he normally directs at me. Isshewhy we came here? Why he dressed up? Work was a convenient excuse for him to get to see this … this …
I look her over, and my lips pull back in a sneer.
“This is Ziggy,” Kennedy says suddenly. “Ziggy, this is Caroline. She makes the best latte I’ve ever tasted.”
Caroline pulls her eyes to me. “Nice to meet you, Ziggy. Is that a nickname?”
I stare at her until the friendly expression fades.
“He’s shy,” Kennedy tells her, giving my shoulder a squeeze. I don’t know if it’s supposed to be a warning to play nice with his girlfriend or a gesture of support, but I don’t care. They’re both lucky my voice is stuck, or I’d be telling her to go and thirst after some other guy.
“Aww, you’re so cute,” she offers, not picking up on mygo awayvibes. “You know what? I’m going to sneak you both a slice of cake.”
