Page 28 of Yearning Difficulties

His face was unreadable. ‘If you say so.’

‘Your mother will officially pick her mentees by the end of next week.’

‘Yes,’ Killian said softly. ‘What a short-lived thing this will be, then.’

‘You can have the breakup. Maybe at the cast feast? My dad always throws a big medieval dinner for the cast and crew midway through the faire. And you can be the one to end it in front of everyone. That way, news will travel fast.’

‘Fantastic.’

My smile faded as I heard the sarcasm in his voice. ‘What?’

He shook his dark hair out of his eyes. ‘Nothing. Just bitter about being the bad guy, I suppose. But that’s what everyone will expect.’

‘It has to be you. If I make it as one of your mother’s mentees, she’ll take it all away if I humiliate her son.’

‘You deserve the spot on the seminar, regardless of these antics. If you’re as good a writer as you are a radio host, you more than deserve it.’ He gave me a polite smile. ‘My mum’s rich-kid goggles are blinding her to a lot of great talent. You know that, right? You deserve this, Zella. However this weird little project between you and me ends, that’s never going to stop being true.’

‘Thanks, Kill,’ I said softly. ‘But really. I’m happy to be the dumpee, not the dumper.’

He sniffed. We’d reached my home and we both hovered by the front door.

‘And there has to be a breakup?’ Killian suddenly asked, with a wicked grin.

I stared. His snark was something I (unwillingly) liked about him, but a small part of me always cringed when I was on the other end of it.

‘Funny,’ I said, refusing to be tripped up. ‘Don’t worry, it can be literally minutes after that list goes up. I promise.’

He looked down at his shoes, a ghost of his smile remaining. ‘Like I said. Fantastic.’

‘And I don’t want to get between you and Mystery Girl. Like I said. Not even a little bit.’

He laughed bitterly. ‘Don’t worry about Mystery Girl, Red. She’s . . . well. Anyway. As soon as I’ve dumped you in front of everyone we know, I can go right back to pining for her.’

I pressed my back against my front door and wondered why I was lingering. ‘You should write her some poetry.’

He laughed, as if the idea were ridiculous. ‘I should but I won’t. I’m no poet.’

‘What’s she like?’

‘Like?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Um . . .’ He cleared his throat. ‘She’s . . . she’s everything.’

There was a yearning in his voice that I’d never heard in Dave’s.

‘She’s beautiful, of course,’ he went on. He grinned at me. ‘I’m incredibly shallow. Like, hypocritically shallow. And she’s not just pretty or attractive, she’s beautiful. Like the kind you’d see in a film.’

I smirked. ‘Very shallow, Killian.’

‘But she’s kind. Really kind. She’s the kindest person I’ve ever met. I’m like a wasp and she’s like a bee. I’ll sting anybody. She can as well. She can be really scathing. But unlike me, she only does it if she really has to. I think it kills her to do it. Just like a bee. She gives so much of herself. She doesn’t deserve the things some people do to her.’ He glanced up at the sky for a moment and then started to examine his hands, as if the truths about Mystery Girl were etched in his palms. ‘She always takes the high road. She always thinks about other people. I’ve watched her put herself last a hundred times, in a million tiny ways. And she’s smart. Smarter than me.’

‘Wow,’ I said, when his monologue came to a full stop. ‘That’s sweet, Kill. She’s lucky to have you.’

‘She’s autistic like me. She deals with it differently. But our brains are so similar, I can see her struggling when I struggle. And I relax when I can see her relaxing.’

I smiled. ‘That’s . . . wow.’