He smiled as she disappeared back behind the freezer door. “What are you doing?”
“Looking for ice cream.”
“Why are you looking for ice cream?”
A moment later she reappeared, a pint of chocolate in her hand and an eyebrow cocked high up her forehead. “Is that a trick question?”
She closed the freezer and made her way around the island, opening the cutlery drawer.
“Last time I checked, your kitchen had food,” he said, leaning back against the opposite counter and crossing his arms over his chest.
“You think Dad lets us keep ice cream in the house? Have you seen the refined sugar content?”
She turned around with a spoon in hand and a triumphant smile on her face. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, and he guessedfrom her outfit that she was just getting home from a night out. Probably a little drunk, too. Usually he would call her out on it. Instead, he turned toward the refrigerator.
“Don’t you want some?” she asked as he opened the stainless steel door.
He didn’t answer, just grabbed a beer from the shelf.
She rolled her eyes and walked across the room to the long sofa facing the kitchen and slumped into it. Her short dress rode up as she tucked her legs underneath her body and took the lid off the top of the chocolate pint. He sat down on a stool at the island across from her, twisting the cap off his bottle. For a moment, it was silent.
She was one of the few people who he could do that with: sit together in silence without needing to fill the space with small talk. But right now it felt like there was a weight there, a thousand things he wanted to say, even more than he knew he should. Instead he took a sip of his beer.
It was another minute before she spoke. “You were right, you know.”
Her voice was barely louder than a whisper, and when he looked up to see if he heard her correctly, he found she was still focused on her spoon, the ice cream on it untouched.
“About that barista,” she continued, finally meeting his gaze. She smiled, but it was like the smile from dinner: so forced and fragile that he half expected it to dissolve.
“What happened?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Then tell me.”
A sigh. “I went out with Nadine tonight and we met up with him. I was so sure he was into her, and for a while it seemed like I was right…” Her voice trailed off, her eyes darting back to her spoon.
“And?”
“And I wasn’t.”
His grip on the neck of his beer tightened. “Tell me what happened.”
“It’s fine, I swear,” she said with another smile, this one a touch more sincere. “He just… called me a bitch after he… well, he tried to force himself on me… in the cab.”
“He didwhat?” Knightley’s anger made the question sound sharp and biting.
“Oh my God, don’t go all big brother on me, please. I took care of it.”
“You took care of it?”
She shrugged. “I punched him in the face and kicked him out of the cab.”
He blinked. “Seriously?”
“Yeah.” She raised an eyebrow at him. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I’m just… impressed.” He let out a breath, his adrenaline subsiding a bit, but not completely. “Are you okay?”
