“Do you know how many times I’ve been called a slut and a whore for those same pictures you’re so obsessed with?”
“Jesus, Kinsley, I never said you were. I never said anything like that.”
“You didn’t have to. What you said hurt so much more.”
“Listen to me, that’s not what this was—any of it. It’s on me.Not you.My insecurities, my bullshit.”
I shrug. “Once we’re done you won’t have to worry about that. You’ll find a girl that isn’t anything like me, and all will be right in your world.”
He flinches but I don’t react.
“I’ll see you later,” I say, grabbing my bag and walking toward the exit without a backward glance.
14
ROYCE
Istare at Kinsley’s retreating form, my shirt soaked from being pummeled in the goal and trying not to die with the ball flying at my head. Because she aimed every shot at me.
The pain and fury was unmistakable on her face as she unleashed it all.
I’d been unfair to her, but it had all become too much.
I’d been insecure when I’d come at her in my apartment, but after she stormed out, that insecurity had turned into anger at unworthy douchebags showing her off just to get ahead.
Because she’s so much more than that.
And I hadn’t been able to say any of that.
Because I’m an idiot.
I berate myself as I pick up all the balls, tucking them into the discarded bag and placing them next to the bench.
Flowers and chocolate aredefinitelynot gonna cut it.
But the longer I stand here, the more an idea starts to take shape.
I just hope it works.
“What are you doing here?I told you I don’t want to see you tonight,” Kinsley says, her face devoid of makeup and her hair piled in a messy bun on the top of her head.
“Yeah, well, I suck at listening sometimes.”
“Love that for you. I have my period and I’m dying now, so I need you to go so I can get back to my date with a heating pad.”
“I brought snacks,” I say, holding up the two bags.
“Don’t you have witches and dragons to play with your Internet friends?”
“I’m not even going to dignify that with a response,” I say, shaking the bags at her, silently thankful that she’s teasing me and hopefully a little less irate. “Let me in so I can take care of you tonight.”
“Why? I’m still really pissed at you,” she says, using the door frame to keep her upright.
Dropping the bags inside her door, I shoulder it open and scoop her up into my arms as she yelps before wrapping hers around my neck.
“I was an ass. I wasn’t thinking, and I hate that I hurt you.”
“A lot,” she says into the crook of my neck.
