Now all I need to do is convince Kira of that.
No problem, right?
Fuck.
* * *
I pushthe eggs around the frying pan.
It’s six p.m., and Kira is still asleep. At least that's what I thought, until I turn around and find her standing behind me.
“How long have you been spying on me?”
“Just a minute.” She rubs her sleepy eyes.
“Feeling any better?” I slide my fried eggs onto the plate next to the stove.
“A little.” She tucks her hair behind her ears awkwardly, still getting used to the short length.
“Want some eggs?”
“Sure.” She sits down at the little eat-in countertop at the end of the kitchen. My home isn’t as fancy as hers, but it does the job for a single guy like me.
“Scrambled?” I already know what she likes.
“Yes.”
“Coming up.”
“I can’t believe I slept so long.”
“It was a pretty rough day.” I crack two eggs into a bowl.
“It was a pretty rough two days.” Kira throws that out there. I whisk the eggs harder than I mean, but the mention of yesterday puts me on edge.
“Yeah. We’ve got some shit to talk about.” I pour the eggs into the hot pan, and they sizzle, just like a bug under the baking sun and a microscope. Me being the bug in this metaphor.
“That was an asshole thing you did to me yesterday.” She doesn’t pull any punches.
“I know it was. I regret it, and I’m sorry.” I push the eggs around the pan as they cook.
Kira doesn’t respond, so I find my balls and look over at her. Her expression tells me some half-ass apology isn’t going to cut it.
“You’re saying the words, Ky, but I am having a really hard time believing them.”
“Jesus, Kira, are you going to crucify me forever? I fucked up. I know it. I’m sorry,” I pop off.
I am a pro at this apology thing.
“Christ, I can’t do this.” Kira gets up off the stool, frustrated already.
“Can’t do what?” I question her as I pull the pan off the heat.
“Have a civilized conversation with you. You jump down my throat the first opportunity you get.”
“I’m not jumping down your throat. I’m just not good at admitting when I’m wrong.”
“So I’ve noticed.” She’s curt.
