Chapter 9
Kinsley
Chapter Nine
I’ve been fascinated with mysteries ever since I was a little girl. I used to spend my afternoons at my nan’s house while my mother worked, and because she spent most of her time watching crime shows on her old TV, I did too. When I was ten, we started to make a competition out of it and tried to solve the case before the detectives did. When I turned thirteen, I had already mastered the game, and my nan couldn’t beat me to it anymore. That was when she gave me her mystery books to read, and I fell in love with every one of them. They were harder to predict and figure out, and it was intriguing. So, what does one do when a cold case drops at their feet? Well, I guess most people would leave, but as soon as Thomas initiated me, my brain started to twirl.
“I asked you to bring my car home, not to make out with my brother on it,” Thomas’s calm voice pulled me out of my thoughts.
Connor was leaning against the hood of Thomas’s car while Kevin’s back was to us. They froze, when they realized they weren’t alone, and Connor opened his eyes, his gaze widening. He slipped away from Kevin, who then turned around to face us. After a moment of the four of us just standing there like statues, staring at each other, Connor marched toward the house.
“I’m twenty, for fucks sake,” he grumbled as he passed us, and I looked up at Thomas, trying to find on his face what could have angered Connor. Well, beside us ruining his make-out session.
Thomas walked down the stairs toward Kevin, leaving me behind, and I shivered from the sudden coldness of his empty space. I turned away, too, and followed Connor into the house.
He was already on the couch in front of the TV, watching the same show as before the party. He pulled his legs up and was struggling with a big blanket, so I grabbed the edge of it to help him. “Thanks,” he said while he tucked half of it around himself and held up the other half to me. “You think he’s angry?” he asked while I crawled under the blanket too.
“Thomas is unreadable,” I replied. He probably wasn’t; well, at least not at Connor. Kevin, on the other hand, I had no idea. “What’s it called?” I asked, pointing at the show on the TV to change the subject.
Connor sucked in a breath and jerked his head toward me. “Don’t tell me you don’t know this show.” He spoke with such passion I couldn’t decide if I should really answer him or not.
“I only watch crime shows,” I reminded him, and Connor made a face.
“Or Scooby Doo,” he added, and we both chuckled. “It’s called Modern Family, by the way.” He nodded toward the screen. “My latest obsession.”
I sank deeper into the couch and we stayed there, watching Modern Family—which I had to admit was entertaining—while we waited for Thomas. After a while, our heads bumped against each other, and we fell asleep.
???
I woke with pain in my legs and my arms. I opened my eyes very slowly as they tried to adjust to the strong light that streamed into the living room through the huge windows. I lifted my head just enough to find the source of my pain, but my eyesight was blocked by a dark green fabric. I needed a second to realize it was Connor’s pants, the same ones he wore to the party yesterday. Realization hit me like a truck as the events of last night came back to me. We must have fallen asleep while we waited for Thomas to come back in, and now one of Connor’s legs rested on my arm while his head was pressing into my ankle. I groaned and lifted his leg off me, before I freed myself fully while trying not to wake him up. I readjusted the white dress I had been wearing since last night and grabbed my phone from the coffee table to check the time. It was only eight o’clock in the morning, but to my surprise, there were already two texts waiting for me on the screen.
Converse girl, you left without saying goodbye.
I frowned at the nickname he had used last night, too, before saving the number into my contacts with Braxton’s name.
ME
Why the nickname?
I typed back, and his answer came almost instantly.
brAXTON
I met you twice yesterday and you wore two different pairs of Converse. I’m creative.
I snorted. The other text was from a newly added number, too.
AALIYAH
Had so much fun last night!! What would you say to a proper tour around town? Maybe today? Around ten? Text me.
A small smile curved on my lips while I read Aaliyah’s text, and I messaged back an I’m in, before locking the screen. I grabbed the blanket, which somehow ended up on the floor, and laid it over Connor before I dragged myself out into the kitchen.
Thomas was already there, sitting at the kitchen island with a sandwich and a book in his hands. He was wearing a white T-shirt, which looked unreasonably spotless, and gray sweatpants. My eyes lingered on the latter maybe a little too long before I realized I was practically drooling and turned myself away.
“How long were you out there?” I asked, pouring myself a glass of water and keeping my eyes strictly on the glass.
“Good morning to you too,” he replied, and I made a face.
“Maybe it’s good for you. But I just woke up after serving as your brother’s pillow all night.” I emptied the glass with a long sip, and Thomas lifted a brow at me. I shook my head and changed the subject. “So why did it take hours for you to come back inside?” I asked again, but he just took another bite out of his sandwich and turned a page like he hadn’t heard me. “If you don’t answer me, I will have to start guessing, and that could go on for a long time,” I added, and he let out an annoyed sigh.
“We didn’t talk about Connor, him, or my car,” he said simply, closing his book. “If that’s what interests you.” I could see a crooked grin tugging in the corner of his mouth, and I rolled my eyes.
“You know it’s not,” I replied, pushing myself up to the counter at the same moment Thomas stood up.
“I did call him out for my car, but I wouldn’t have guessed?—”
“Thomas,” I cut in with an exhale. “Did the thing you left to do before the party have anything to do with Kevin’s dad being the town’s chief?” I asked, and I patted myself on the back when his eyes filled with surprise for a moment. I let a smile slip to my lips as I continued. “What? I had plenty of time to look around on the internet while you were talking with Kevin,” I explained. The corner of Thomas’s mouth twitched, and I let out a dramatic gasp. “It did.” I jumped off the counter.
“Kinsley,” he warned, putting his empty plate into the sink. I was waiting for him to add something to it, but he just turned and went to the stairs. I moved instantly, following him upstairs.
“Come on, tell me,” I nagged, and he grumbled something under his breath I couldn’t hear.
“There’s nothing to tell, Kinsley,” he added a moment later, opening one of the doors on the second floor.
He almost closed it into my face, but I snuck inside under his arm. The room was painted blue, and it had a gigantic bed in it with hockey team logos covering the wall above. But what really captured my attention was the wall across from the bed, where a huge wooden shelf was filled with books.
“Is this all yours?” I asked, making my way to the shelf across the creepily neat room. He didn’t answer instantly, but I felt the warmth of his body as he stepped behind me.
“Yes, my mother used to collect books for me that she wanted me to read when I got older.” He swept away the dust from some of the books on an upper shelf. “But most of them are my old children’s books or the ones I brought with me,” he explained, his warm breath slightly tickling my nape.
I ran my fingers over some of the spines, not caring about the falling dust, and whenever I recognized a title, a small smile formed on my lips. “I meant what I said yesterday,” I started, keeping my eyes on the shelf. “I want to help and?—”
“I know,” Thomas cut in, and I turned around.
“I mean it,” I repeated. “But also, it would be a good opportunity for me. For my crime journalist internship,” I explained, biting into my bottom lip and keeping in a nervous breath. I was starting my third year in college, and I wanted to try the field, but to be able to assist a crime journalist, I had to write a pretty strong portfolio and cover letter.
“If we solve it,” Thomas started, and I kept my lips in a thin line, waiting. “I wouldn’t want anyone else to write about it,” he said in a low voice, and I let out a relieved breath.