Coming Home (Only Time Will Tell #1) (9 page)

The day we left, I said my goodbyes to Kyle, giving him the painting back. Not because I didn't want it, like it or appreciate it, but because I wanted him to see that there's always color in the world, even when the sky feels gray. At that point in my life, though, the sky felt pitch black. There were times I used to think of that painting and remember what I thought about it, but it didn’t always cut it. Sometimes a world is meant to be dark for a reason.

Throwing something on the bed, he comes to stand beside me, admiring the picture with his arms crossed over his chest. “You think I'd get rid of it? After how much it cost? You must be joking,” he laughs. “Besides, I always hoped that one day you'd show up to take it back.”

I offer him a weak smile, because really I didn't turn back up for it. Shit just happened. “You keep it, it goes with your room.”

He starts to say something, but I try and stop him quickly, “Listen, are we crashing tonight or what? At this rate it'll be time for me to go home. So you can either stay here and chat or sod off and let me get changed.”

He shuts his mouth, quickly grabbing himself some clothes and leaves, telling me he's going for a shower in the guest room. I think he got the point.

I take off my “responsible dress.” Out of most things I own in my work wardrobe, I think this dress is the most sensible. It goes to my knees, buttons under my chin and shows no extra flesh other than my arms and shins.

Shaking out the article of clothing that he's dumped on the bed, I find only an old shirt. I question myself about walking out there with it on but decide to just do it. I could walk out here naked, but if I don't want this to go any further, it won’t. Right? Right. I take off my jewelry and place it in a neat pile in the comfy chair.

After redressing in the T-shirt, I give myself a little pep talk and leave the room feeling half naked, even shaking my body all over like I'm about to walk into the ring with Mike Tyson.

I walk down the hallway, the only sound is my feet as I pad across the cold floor. I pass a door further down. Hearing movement inside, I stop and listen.

“C.J.?”

I've hardly made a single sound, so it startles me. He couldn't have heard me walking down here. “Yeah?”

He shouts back through the door, sounding like he's in a cave. “I've left something in the kitchen for you.”

I look at the door curiously for a moment before I realize that the only way I'll find out what he's left out, is by going into the kitchen.

I walk in, the silent hum of the refrigerator and wine fridge filling the air.

Next to the stove is a Jiffy Pop. I do a little dance, happy that I get to play with my food for a change.

I fire up the stove, and peel back the cardboard. Popping the tray on the heat I dance over to my purse and dig out a hair band, tying up my hair that I'd left wavy today, only twisting and pinning back the front side section.

After a quick shake of the tray, I click the television on that sits in the top units, flicking to a music channel.

They're currently showing soundtracks to movies, and my favorite ass shaker is on. I continue to shake the tray, watching the foil expand as I slowly begin to relax and start shaking my ass to the music.

By the end of the song, I'm tired out. When the popcorn is cooked I dig through the cupboards searching for a bowl.

After a quick stab with the fork, I pour the popcorn into the bowl.

I take a few pieces, then decide to wait in the lounge. As I turn, I remember I'm not in my own home. “K.C.. How long have you been standing there?” stuttering from nerves, knowing by the slack mouth and eyes the size of tennis balls, he saw me dancing. Heat starts spreading from my chest to my neck. I can't believe I didn't think about getting caught, or even consider someone walking in. It could have been Josie.

He looks at me, his mouth moving, but nothing coming out. “I... erm... Did you....” His eyes are continuously traveling the length of my naked legs. His eyes are growing hungrier by the second, and I dread the thought of him looking at me with those eyes. I never did resist them, I've never wanted to. Just the thought of them now is making me clench my thighs together.

In an attempt to save myself, I make a joke of the situation. “I made popcorn,” I laugh. “Come on K.C., you've seen a hell of a lot more than me shaking my ass around the kitchen.”

He takes a large gulp before he actually looks me in the eyes. I look away immediately, nibbling from the bowl that I'm grasping too. “Do you want a drink?” he asks, his voice gravelly.

“I'll have whatever you’re having.”

I can see his bare feet walk to the refrigerator as I'm concentrating on the bowl.

Finally, I head into the lounge, finding a duvet on the couch.

I get under it, and get comfy on the biggest couch-ever. It's so soft and fluffy, I'd probably get a better night’s sleep on it than in my own bed.

A few moments later, the couch dips as Kyle takes a seat next to me. He's placed a couple of beers on the chunky, wooden coffee table that's in front of us and climbs under the duvet. “So what are we watching?” I ask as he flicks on the flat-screen.

“I'm not sure,” he says, flicking through the movie channels, finally stopping on
Die Hard
. “You okay with this?”
 

“Sure.”

It's only just started, so we haven't missed much. Not that it matters, I've seen it half a dozen times.

We both sit silently, watching the movie play out, and it's beginning to wind me up. I need to relax, enjoy the moment, just be me. “Where's Josie tonight?” I ask, in between mouthfuls of popcorn.

He slowly takes his eyes away from the screen to look at me, his face looks so... Bored.

“Shopping. Her and my Mom have gone looking for a dress for next weekend. Did you get your invite?”

I nod at him because my mouth is full and my brain is in shock for a split second. “Yeah, I got it. Not going though, not really my thing.”

He nods his head, like he understands and accepts, but he doesn't. “Really? You’re not? Come on C.J., you loved crashing those things.”

Crashing? I crashed once until his Mom caught me and slung me out on my heels. “That was then. Besides, if your Mom catches me there, she'll toss me out like last time, regardless if I'm invited or not. She hated me and you know it.”

He's completely stopped watching the movie now, turning his attention and body solely to me. “She doesn't hate you. You’re just exaggerating over that night, she was pissed finding you there.”

Just like old times, he would never believe that she thought I was devil spawn. No matter how many times I told him. She made it loud and clear, way before that night happened, that she hated me. “I was only being used to make her life hell,” and that “Kyle would eventually find a suitable female who wasn't dragged in off the street.” F.Y.I., I wasn't dragged off the street, my parents were just average. What she was referring to was the fact I wasn't surrounded by money.

I sigh, defeated. I'm not going over it again. I push the bowl into his stomach, lean over and grab my beer, needing something to help combat dry, salt mouth.

Sitting back, I stare at the movie, not watching or listening to it, just staring. After taking a couple of mouthfuls, I lean back over and place the beer bottle back on the table and then get comfy under the duvet.

Thankfully, the air conditioning has kicked in so that I'm not a melting snowman. “How about, we agree to disagree on your Mom?” I say and look at him, which turns out to be a huge mistake. His eyes are filled with that hunger again, and it baffles me. “Kyle?”

“Hmm?” shaking his head slightly, the fire dispersing, just a little bit.

“Were you checking out my ass?” A huge, teasing grin involuntarily spreading over my face.

He matches my smile. “Maybe.”

I point my finger at him, and try to say sternly, “Behave. If you’re going start with this, I'm leaving. I came here to hang out, not to be ogled like a fresh piece of meat.” But I can’t help smiling.

“Maybe you should stop sticking it up in the air then. I'm only male, what do you expect.”

Nothing where the male species are concerned.
“Or maybe, you couldn’t just stop staring at something because it’s right in front of your face. It’s rude to stare, and you should be polite to guests.”
 

His face turns stern and he salutes me. “If you say so boss.”

“Quit being a clown. I want to talk anyway, it’s been, what, eight long years? What’s been happening with you? Do you still see or speak to anyone from back home?”

He strokes his jaw, looking thoughtful. “No, actually, I lost all contact with them when we moved. Never thought about searching for them. They weren’t important to me.”

“You never once thought about popping onto Facebook and searching them out? You and Sam were really close?” I ask him, my eyebrows furrowing.

He chuckles to himself, “Facebook? No. It’s hard being on that thing. I know I’m not world known or famous or anything, but you get some crazy ass women stalking you. I prefer to keep everything, you know, real.” Chucking a few pieces of popcorn in his mouth.

I keep my mouth shut for a few moments, hating the fact that he’s a man whore these days and I keep forgetting that women flock at his feet for split seconds. Each time I do, the realization that he isn’t mine anymore or that I’m not the one he’s planning a future with, like we used to, kind of breaks me-a tiny piece of my heart crashing to the limestone floor, one fragment at a time.

“Are you happy?” I ask, staring blankly at the movie again. “You never wanted this life. The money, cars, pressure to succeed, it’s strange to see you have all of that and enjoy it, something you said you’d never do.”

I don’t look at him, but I can feel him looking at me. I feel like he’s assessing me, weighing up my questioning. “You’re right, I never wanted it, but, things change, people change. I never planned on walking in these footprints, not once. But, I guess I thought I’d give it a shot. I was given the opportunity to build the building you work in and I took it. It all worked out in the end.”

I slowly look at him, feeling guilty for some unknown reason. “The building? You built that?”

“Yeah. He said he was retiring and was going to start an accounting company. He wanted a building to work in and extra floors to lease out to keep money coming in. He was happy with it so he handed his baby down to me.”

“Oh.” I mouth. I stretch my hand over and go to grab a handful of popcorn, when his hand latches round my wrist. I look at him wide eyed. “What?”

He smiles roguishly again, “You could always come over here and share the popcorn, you don’t have to be miles away. I thought we were meant to be acting like the old us? You never sat that far away.”

I chew on my lip, thinking back to the other things we used to do. “I don’t know. I know we’re trying to re-live the past ‘n’ all that, but don’t you think you’re rushing the old “getting comfy” together think? I’m not saying that things will be exactly like the used to be but, if they ever did, do you want to rush it and ruin it?”

Like he’s just ignored everything I’ve just said, he lifts the popcorn bowl and hauls me across the couch, positions me between his legs, covers us up with the duvet and rests the bowl in my lap. “For now, I don’t care.” He says, matter-of-factly in my ear, sending a slight shiver down my spine, making me squirm. “I wouldn’t keep doing that.” He adds and I can’t help but laugh, even though I’m against the idea of being like this. It feels right, but wrong all at the same time. I don’t want to get too attached because I can guarantee he’ll hate me when the time comes.

I relax against his chest and start nibbling on the popcorn, feeling content for now, watching the movie with a stupid grin that I haven’t worn since I was seventeen. Occasionally, his hand winds round me and he takes his own popcorn. We say nothing for a while, just quiet, no arguing, no reminiscing, nothing.

At around eight, my eyelids start to drop. I rest my head against his chest, hating that I’m falling asleep so early.

Feeling his breath softly on my neck, I waken a little bit more. “Are you falling asleep?” he whispers.

I nod, unable to talk, like it’s too much of an effort.

“Am I that boring?”

“No,” I whisper, “I’m just too comfortable and relaxed like this, I’m sorry.”

His chest vibrates softly under my ear. “Don’t be, I’m glad you are.”

Even though I’m dog tired, I manage to hike myself to look at him and scowl. “You’re happy I’m falling asleep, that’s just plain rude.”

“Not that,” he laughs, “that you’re comfortable; you always take the negative bits and assume things.”

I scowl harder. “No, I don’t, that’s what it sounded like.”

“It’s not what I meant though.” He says and tickles my side.

Pushing him in the shoulder of the offending arm, I back away slightly, hating being tickled, especially when I’m sleepy. “Keep your hands off Cooper, I can’t stand it.”

Playfulness flashes in his eyes but I’m not quick enough to jump off the couch and make a run to safety. His legs lock around me and his hands start their tirade on my sides, my weak spots. “Seriously K.C., stop it!” I laugh and screech, trying to fight his hands away, but it’s like he’s turned into an octopus and they seem to be everywhere. “Oh my God, Kyle, please!”

Fighting mode seems to kick in, trying to block out the feel of his hands. I wriggle and squirm in my tight spot, trying to get free enough to stop him, because my strength will somehow match his. Not. I push my hands against his biceps, pushing them as hard as I can to stop him, which strangely does. I’m out of breath, feeling sweaty in a room that’s cold enough to store snowballs in the middle of a heatwave. “I swear to God K.C., you do that again I’ll gut you and hang your insides off the balcony.”

He starts laughing hysterically, “You say the nicest things, you know that?”

Smiling sarcastically I say, “I do try. You bring the best out of me.”

Cautiously releasing his arms, I brace myself against the couch, one hand either side of him. I look at him, seeing him smile stupidly, confusion sweeping across my face, then it hits me. “What are you thinking about? Or shouldn’t I ask?”