Jhene #4
He blinks, thrown by the change of subject. “What?”
“You’re a hugely successful boxer, Killer. Maybe if you win this next fight you should take some time to celebrate yourself. Go out for a night on the town—a real night on the town—or buy yourself a Porsche or something. Isn’t that what famous athletes do?”
His scowl returns as he sticks his hands in his jean pockets. “I’m not the flashy type. Isn’t that obvious?”
“You’ve got a point. You do wear the same handful of clothes every day.”
“You got a problem with how I dress?”
The rare urge to smirk strikes me. I barely resist it as I give a shrug. “You’re a very serious person is all I mean. Lighten up sometime.”
“You’re one to talk. You wear the same two outfits.”
“Three!” I exclaim in offense. “I have three outfits. And I have an excuse—I literally live out of a backpack. You’re a famous professional boxer and a mob enforcer.”
“How about I skip buying myself something flashy and take you shopping sometime? Just so that you could have seven outfits. One for every day of the week.”
He’s teasing, being an ass at the same time.
It should make me laugh, and it would if I weren’t so hypersensitive to offers from men. The playful air between us fades away as I revert to old habits and give a swift shake of my head.
“That’s okay,” I say. “I don’t need anything from you. I’m not expecting—”
“I know you don’t need it. I’m offering.”
“I don’t want it,” I snap. Then I sigh when I catch myself for how rude I sound. “Sorry. I just… don’t want you to buy me things.”
“Too late for that. We’re coming from seeing that movie together.”
I go silent, desperately wishing I could explain it to him. Make it make sense for him.
Fedorov used to buy me things too. He used to insist he’d never expect anything in return from us. That he was looking out for us while Mom was gone.
I was so young and naive—and maybe a little delusional—I chose to believe him.
Then he started collecting those debts in ways that changed me forever.
“Most people don’t mean what they say,” I mumble, looking down at the sidewalk. “When they offer things, there’s always a cost.”
“I’m not most people. I mean what I say when I say it.
” He reaches out and lightly brushes my arm with his hand as if to gain my attention.
Make me look back up at him. When I do, I find him already peering at me, his eyes bluer the closer we stand.
“Let’s get one thing straight. As a man, I would never expect you to give me anything you didn’t want to give. ”
It’s not even a question if I believe him—I do.
I believe every word he says as we seem to inch toward each other and I find myself unable to look away.
“It’s not that I think you would expect things,” I explain. “But it’s just that I’m…”
“Just what?”
“Afraid.”
His eyes search mine, his expression losing any severity. “You don’t have to be. Not with me.”
“I know,” I say, pulse pounding in my veins. “That’s what makes me so afraid.”
We’ve gravitated even closer, so connected in this moment that we’ve forgotten our surroundings. We’re inching forward and studying each other up close, my head tipped and his bowed.
Then there’s no space left, and suddenly we’re kissing.
Our lips touch for a brief few seconds that have me reeling. That feel so abrupt and pleasant it seems unreal.
His lips are warm and firm against mine. His hand comes up to cup the side of my face, and I’m leaning on tippy toe to press more of myself against him.
My heart flutters faster inside my chest as a rush of excitement hits me. Endorphins flood my bloodstream and make me lightheaded.
It’s a simple kiss, two people drawn to each other and brushing their lips together.
But it’s also a rare moment that’s good.
Genuinely good in a life that’s been full of misery and captivity.
It ends as abruptly as it began. I pull back first, my eyes flying open.
Killian’s as stunned as I am, giving a huff of air and scrubbing a hand over his bearded jaw.
“Fuck,” he breathes. “That was my fault. I crossed a line. You just said you were scared, and I shouldn’t’ve—”
“We kissed each other,” I interrupt, still dazed. “It was mutual.”
He shakes his head. “I know better than to get carried away.”
“We both did. But… I don’t think it should happen again. It’s too confusing… right?”
“Right,” he answers after a half second pause. “Yeah, it’s for the best. Better to keep things uncomplicated.”
We turn away from each other and then set off down the last few blocks to Killian’s studio.
We’ve returned to our silence, though it’s spoiled by the awkward tension that remains. My head’s still reeling, full of thoughts about what happened seconds ago.
It felt good to kiss Killian; it was a brief moment where I felt like a normal woman enjoying myself with a guy I was on a date with.
But the truth is that’s never been my reality and probably won’t ever be.
Killian belongs with a normal girl. Somebody who’s not going to bring trouble to his doorstep and complicate his life in ways he can’t even understand yet.
That girl who’s not me.