19. Kaitlyn
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Kaitlyn
PAST
I’ve been trying to pretend I didn’t hear whatever sound came out of Henry’s room this morning, but it sounded like a dying cat yowling. Henry’s been walking around funny, and Mirabelle’s face hasn’t faded from bright red since they emerged.
If whatever’s going on between Bailey and Mirabelle wasn’t going on, I’d text him about it to make him laugh, but our conversations since the kiss have been brief.
I’m waiting for a good opportunity to talk to him in person about it, but I’m starting to think there won’t be a good time.
Meanwhile, I haven’t done anything but think about it.
It’s not like I planned to kiss him when I went over there.
I just wanted to cheer Bailey up. I don’t think B meant for Henry and Mirabelle to get dragged into his suspension, and knowing him, it’s probably to provoke a reaction from his parents.
I mean, it’s the only thing that makes sense to me.
God, I wish he’d just fucking tell me what is going on with him, but between him and Hunter refusing to say much of anything about it, I’m completely in the dark .
All I know is Hunter’s pissed as hell at Bailey for not telling him anything, and I have no idea what to do.
The night we kissed was the closest I’ve seen Bailey act like himself in a while. I know I can’t fix him, but that doesn’t mean I can’t want to make him happy.
Henry grimaces, adjusting how he’s sitting on the couch again as Mirabelle tries to pretend like she isn’t watching him over the top of her book. It’s cute how the second she looks away, Henry stares at her too. I’m amazed they haven’t made eye contact yet.
The tension in the room is suffocating.
“Dude, I need you to stop making whatever those sounds are every time you move. Whatever freaky sex you had last night, I don’t want to hear it,” I say, making a face as Mirabelle’s face burns brighter.
Henry drags a hand over his face, sighing. “Kait, there wasn’t any freaky sex happening last night,” he says, and I’m embarrassed for him right now.
I roll my eyes. “I don’t believe you.”
“I’m going for a run,” Mirabelle squeaks, setting her book down and taking the opportunity to retreat. I can’t blame her. I think if Henry could run, he might try to join her.
Henry’s roommate, Wilson, was lucky to escape the awkwardness of this morning with his breakfast plans. Before he left, he asked if I heard the same sound he did, and I couldn’t stop laughing at how Henry stubbed his toe on the couch.
Henry tries—and fails—to look away from Mirabelle as she retreats up the stairs, and I wonder how he ever hid his feelings for her, given how much of a lovesick fool he’s acting like now.
“So if you didn’t have freaky sex last night, why are you acting like you have the man flu?”
His eyebrows knit in confusion, and he blinks. “ What’s the man flu?” he asks, and our age difference has never been more glaringly obvious.
I shake my head, laughing under my breath. For someone who loves to take a red pen to my essays when I send them to him, he’s not doing a very good job of keeping up with the times.
“Man flu is when a simple cold knocks a man on his ass and he acts like he’s dying, when a woman can still do everything like normal with a little pack of tissues,” I explain, tucking my long legs underneath me on the couch.
“I do not act like a cold knocks me on my ass,” he protests, frowning.
“Then what’s wrong with you today?”
Mirabelle skips down the stairs, phone in hand. “I accidentally crushed his dick with my knee this morning. Sorry,” she chimes in, and now a lot more things are making sense.
“Oh, so man flu.”
Mirabelle chokes back a laugh, shaking her head. “I’ll be back in like a half hour. Maybe try an ice pack so my uncle doesn’t murder me for being the reason you’re walking bowlegged.”
I think the vein in Henry’s forehead might threaten to make an appearance right now. “I am not acting like I have man flu. Why don’t I knee you in the nuts and see how you like it, Kait?” he asks, and I snort because that’s anatomically impossible.
“Well, that’d be crazy because I don’t have nuts, and you shouldn’t hurt women,” I joke, continuing to give my brother a hard time.
Henry frowns, and now I know I’ve taken the jokes too far. “I would never hurt a woman,” he says, as if I don’t already know this. I do appreciate him clarifying, though.
“I know,” I say, relaxing against the cushions, giving him a smile .
He reaches for his coffee, and it’s funny how hard he’s trying not to make a face. Jesus, how hard did Mira get him earlier?
“So, I would normally segue into this better, but Mira’s probably going to be back sooner than she said. Do you know what’s going on with the twins?” He cuts straight to the chase, and I know it was dumb to hope this wouldn’t come up during my visit.
“I don’t know,” I mumble, looking at my phone in my lap for a moment because I swear Henry can see right through me.
“Kait, please. If you know anything, I need you to tell me.”
I sigh, reaching to mess with my braid, finding the pattern on the throw pillow next to me interesting. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“I want you to be able to look me in the eyes and tell me whatever it is you know. Pretty damning that you can’t look at me right now.”
I’m not looking at him because I don’t want to disappoint him by not knowing anything. He probably already knows the little I do know.
“Hunter is mad because Bailey won’t tell him what’s going on with him.
I knew Bailey had quit soccer, but he wouldn’t tell me a reason other than he didn’t see the point anymore.
He’s been pretty upset since the fire, but every time I ask him what’s wrong, Bailey shuts down.
” I shrug, stealing a glance at him to gauge what he might be thinking.
I love Mira, and I want to get to know her better as my brother’s girlfriend.
But I’ve also been trying to figure out how to get Henry alone to talk to him about what it’s like making that jump from friends to being in a relationship.
Ugh, I’m getting ahead of myself. I don’t even know if Bailey wants to be in a relationship with me.
Obviously something’s going on with B, but I don’t want Henry to hate him for it .
“Why didn’t you tell me he quit soccer?” Henry asks, and I know it was a mistake to not say anything, but I thought it might be okay. I’m still hoping it’s going to be okay.
“Because I thought if I let B sort through his shit without involving you, or Mira, or our parents, it would all be fine. I didn’t think he’d get drunk at school,” I say, feeling embarrassed because it sounds childish and naive to admit out loud.
“I get that,” he says, taking a sip of his coffee. All of this is so confusing. I hate being in the dark, but maybe if I’d said something sooner, things would be back to normal by now. I grab the pillow next to me, groaning into it dramatically. “You good?”
“Can I tell you something that you have to promise to keep a secret?” I ask, lowering the pillow just enough to peek at him. I know I’m putting him in a shitty spot with Mira, but I’m dying to tell someone, and I don’t know who else I can talk to about this.
“Does it involve anyone getting hurt?”
“I don’t think so, but you can’t tell Mira.”
Henry hesitates, and I wish I had that type of loyalty with someone. “Kait, I want to make that promise, but if it involves Bailey, I don’t know if I can.”
I can work with that. I appreciate the honesty, at least.
“ IkissedBaileyorhekissedmebutweweredefinitelykissingandnowheisnottalkingtome ,” I ramble, tempted to block my vision with the pillow again so I don’t have to see the look on Henry’s face.
“Um, maybe I’m getting fucking old, but I need you to repeat that slower.”
Seriously? I hug the pillow to my chest, clinging to it like a life jacket, and take a deep breath. “I kissed Bailey, or he kissed me. I’m not sure who started it, but we kissed the other night. I don’t know what to do, Henry. ”
His mouth parts at the same time his eyes widen, and I’m not sure he’s breathing. I might’ve broken him.
“Can you say something?” I ask, too impatient to wait for him to think of whatever wise bullshit he thinks he should say.
“Need a minute.” He shakes his head, standing up, and I feel my stomach plummet.
Was it a mistake to tell Henry? Should I have not done that?
I mean, there’s always a chance it might not work out with Bailey, but I’m really hoping it will. Statistically, your first love isn’t always your last love, but it just felt so right in that moment on the beach. The way B was looking at me made me feel like I was the center of his universe.
Bailey has always felt everything so deeply, and I’ve wondered if he’d love someone the same way.
As if knowing I’m daydreaming about his brother, my phone vibrates on the couch next to me with a text from Hunter.
Hunter
When are you coming back?
Kaitlyn
Not until tomorrow.
Hunter
I’m bored.
Kaitlyn
Sorry!
Hunter
:(
Henry walks back into the living room, and I drop my phone in my lap. “Are you mad?” I ask, and Henry looks confused .
“I’m not mad. Mildly irritated you didn’t tell me sooner, but I’m also trying to pretend you didn’t tell me at all. I’m your older brother, and I know exactly how teenage boys think, and you picked a Walker boy?”
I guess I should be glad my crush isn’t nearly as noticeable as Mirabelle’s on Henry, but wow—the irony is astonishing.
“I feel like you can’t judge me because you’re literally dating the Walker girl,” I point out, and he rolls his eyes as if that’s beside the point.
“This isn’t about me right now,” he argues, and I cross my arms over my chest.
“Well, maybe it should be. I mean, maybe you can help me figure out what’s going on. How did you feel the first time you kissed Mirabelle?” I ask, genuinely curious because he’s obviously obsessed with Mira. He can’t take his eyes off her for longer than a few minutes when they’re in the same room.
It’s kind of how I feel with Bailey.
Henry looks away, and I don’t know if it’s because this is new territory for us, considering we’ve never talked about our romantic feelings beyond poking fun at each other. Maybe he doesn’t want to talk to me about this.
“Mira . . . she has a way of making me feel like I can’t breathe,” he says a few moments later, scratching the back of his neck.
It makes perfect sense.
“That sounds scary,” I say, and Henry laughs under his breath.
“Yeah. It is, but she also has a way of being the only person who can make me feel like I’m breathing as well. I’m not sure how that’s supposed to help you figure out what’s going on, because I don’t even know what’s going on.”
Is he being serious right now? He doesn’t know what’s going on?
Oh my god, I’m actually a little embarrassed to be related to him if he can’t connect these simple dots. I’m a teenager, and even I understand. I thought Henry was supposed to be smart?
Maybe I’ll get him some romance books to add to his book collection instead of the mysteries and thrillers he likes to read.
“You don’t know what’s going on?”
“Are you surprised?” he asks, lifting his shoulders in a shrug.
“You’re in love with her,” I say, and it’s impossible not to laugh at the way his jaw drops. Maybe I give guys too much credit. They’re more like brainless jellyfish floating through the ocean. “God, you are stupid.”
“I’m not in love with her,” Henry denies, shaking his head. “We’re supposed to be talking about Bailey, not me.”
It’s a lot easier to talk about someone else’s relationship than the current state of my love life. I might be giving Bailey too much credit by wondering if he’s thinking about the kiss.
“I don’t know anything else, so we might as well talk about you and Mirabelle.” I hug the pillow to my chest as Henry grimaces, moving his ice pack.
“I love you, but we’re not talking about my relationship with Mirabelle.”
“You also love her.” I’m holding back a laugh when he glances at the front door as if he can will Mirabelle to walk back through it and save him.
Maybe I shouldn’t wait for the perfect time to talk to Bailey. I can take matters into my own hands and hopefully find out if we’re meant to be more than friends.