Kitty hamilton a high sc.., p.16
Kitty Hamilton: A High School Romance, page 16
I’m staring at my trembling hand in my lap. I need a manicure.
“I want to offer you the part.”
Swallowing past the thick lump in my throat, I whisper a shaky, “Thank you.” I don’t know how I feel. Happy? Scared? Worried about Kingsley’s reaction?
“Great, I’ll have my receptionist email you the contract and all the details. If you have any further questions, give the office a call.”
“Okay,” I breathe. I really need a manicure…
“Good, I’ll see you soon, Kitty.”
The line goes dead.
I drop the phone in my lap, still staring at my hand.
The bed shifts. “I’m sorry. I know how much you wanted the job,” Kingsley says, moving my hair aside to kiss my shoulder.
“I got the part.”
He freezes with his lips on my skin, and for a moment, neither of us says a word. My pink nail polish is chipped. When did that happen?
Kingsley slides his hand down my arm. “You’re going to turn it down, right?”
Am I?
A tear falls on my hand. I wipe my cheeks and meet his brown eyes. “Why do you want me to turn it down?”
Just say it, Kingsley! Please, tell me you’re in love with me, and I’ll cancel it right now. I’ll drop this opportunity—for you. I think these things, but I don’t voice them out loud.
Kingsley flicks his eyes between mine before standing up. He rubs the back of his neck. “It’s up to you, Kitty. I just thought you didn’t want to do it anymore?”
I search his face for what feels like an eternity as another tear escapes. It trails a slow path down my cheek and over my lips. I wipe it off. “Is that the only reason you want me to turn this job down? Nothing else?”
Please say it, Kingsley. Please…
Kingsley shrugs, grabbing his boxers off the floor. I watch in silence as he pulls them on. His movements are slow and controlled. He leans down for his jeans and puts them on too. “Take the job if you want. I don’t want to be the reason you turn it down. You need to do what makes you happy.” He puts his hands on the bed and leans forward, placing a soft kiss on my lips. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Why do you always leave?” I ask, tears seeping past my lips into my mouth.
“Look,”—he pulls his t-shirt on—“I’m in your way. You wanted me to teach you, right? You don’t need me anymore.”
“That’s not true,” I whisper so quietly I know he can’t hear, but on the inside, I’m screaming. I want to plead, beg and crawl on my knees if I have to.
I stare down at my lap as he walks out.
Again.
“Have you ever been in love, Kingsley?”
“No, I haven’t. Have you?”
“No. I don’t think I would know what love feels like…”
TWELVE
I turn another page in the photo album and wipe a stray tear from my cheek. I’m crying a lot these days. As if the past has caught up with me, and now I have no choice but to feel.
I startle when a warm hand squeezes my shoulder and look up to find Geoffrey behind me. He’s smiling at the photograph of my father and me at the local science museum.
“I remember that day, miss. Your father was particularly fond of the Second world war exhibition.”
Smiling, I turn another page as Geoffrey rounds the couch. I’m sitting in the living room. The lit fire was unnecessary, but I’ve missed the crackling sound, so I lit it earlier, and now it’s too hot in here. “If I remember correctly, I was bored.”
“Correct, miss,” Geoffrey says, pinching his trousers above the knees as he takes a seat next to me. “You were eight years old and complained the whole time. There was too much information to read and too little to do. Your father enjoyed staring at old items from the war, but you certainly didn’t. If it didn’t sparkle, make a noise, or taste good, you weren’t interested.”
I trace my fingers over my father’s big smile. “You’ve been like a father to me too, Geoffrey.”
His mustache twitches. “Your father certainly couldn’t handle such a confident young lady by himself.”
I laugh, turning the page. The next photograph is one of us planting strawberry seeds. “I wasn’t confident.”
“But you certainly knew your own mind from a young age. You still do, miss. When you want something, you go after it, and you don’t give up.”
I contemplate his words. The fire continues crackling. “Even if I sometimes go after the wrong things?”
Geoffrey rubs his mustache. “I don’t think it’s that black and white, miss. They say all roads lead to Rome. In that case, even the wrong roads guide you home.”
I lift my eyes. “Were you always this wise?”
He smiles softly, then points to another picture. “We tried to warn you not to jump down from that branch. Did you listen?”
I shake my head with a laugh. “You told me I couldn’t climb up the tree. I had to prove you wrong.”
“Aye, miss, and you ended up with a broken ankle.” He tuts. “Most unfortunate.”
I turn the page and smile when I spot a photograph of Geoffrey covered in flour after eight-year-old me decided he had to help me bake a cake. “Was that the time I decided to decorate you in icing sugar instead of the cake?”
Geoffrey chuckles. “That would be correct, miss.”
I close the photo album and shift on the couch, so I’m facing Geoffrey. “I have to make a choice Geoffrey. And I don’t want to make the wrong one.”
“Then you have to listen to your heart.”
I look over at the fire, watching the flames dance. “The heart is a fickle thing, Geoff.”
He stares at the fire, too, humming under his breath. His eyes are warm and kind when he looks back at me. “Even so, I think you should listen to it. You’ll regret it if you don’t.” He stands back up and squeezes my shoulder before taking his leave.
The wind is howling outside, and rain is hammering on the bedroom window. I roll over on my side and pull the quilt up to my chin. It’s still early, but I feel mentally and physically exhausted.
“You’re going to turn it down, right?”
“Why do you want me to turn it down?”
“It’s up to you, Kitty. I just thought you didn’t want to do it anymore?”
“Is that the only reason why you want me to turn this job down? Nothing else?”
“Take the job if you want. I don’t want to be the reason you turn it down. You need to do what makes you happy. Look, I’m in your way. You wanted me to teach you, right? You don’t need me anymore.”
Kingsley wants me to turn down the job and choose him. He didn’t say so outright but in a roundabout way. He wants me to pick him because I truly want to be with him and not out of pity. He’s so confusing. He doesn’t want a girlfriend, but he expected me to turn down the job. Why?
Right now, I’m struggling to remember why I ever thought Hunter seemed like such a good idea. He’s handsome and successful, but what kind of person decides they want to marry someone they spill coffee on in a coffee shop because they’re attractive? Me. That’s who. I’m that person. Kingsley was right all along. I am shallow.
I bury my head in the pillow and groan. I do want Kingsley. So what am I doing? Why didn’t I tell him that I didn’t want to accept the part?
“Fuck it,” I breathe and reach for my phone on the bedside table. I pull open the drawer and grab the papers I printed from Hunter’s email. I dial the number at the top of the page. It connects on the third ring.
“Hunter,” his deep voice sounds in my ear.
I freeze, my breath catching. “Hunter? This is Kath—err, Kitty. I thought you gave me your secretary’s number? I was going to leave a message.”
His chuckle is deep and raspy. “No, I gave you my personal number.”
Obviously!
“Oh, okay,” I whisper, my heart racing in my chest.
“So, Kitty,” he purrs. “What can I do for you?”
I swallow thickly and close my eyes. His deep voice makes my skin erupt in goosebumps. “I… something came up.”
Hunter hums, and I feel it all the way down to my toes. “Something came up,” he echoes. I can hear him uncap a decanter and pour whisky into a glass tumbler in the background.
If I close my eyes, I can still taste it on his tongue. “Yes,” I whisper shakily.
He swallows down the amber liquid, and the sound sends shivers down my back. “Such a shame, Kitty. I was looking forward to working with you.”
Fucking. Hunter means fucking. He was looking forward to fucking me.
Throb. Throb.
“Definitely a shame,” I concur breathily, squeezing my thighs together. Outside, the wind continues howling.
“There’s something about you, Kitty. You could’ve brought something very special to the business.”
I watch the branches of a tree beat against my window. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Wood.”
He takes another sip. I listen to his breathing.
Throb. Throb.
“You take care now, Kitty.”
I nod even though he can’t see it and whisper, “You too, Mr. Wood.”
The line goes dead. I’m still staring at the window. The wind is picking up, and the rain is coming down heavier. The branch continues beating on my window like a scorned lover demanding the truth. In weeks, its yellowed leaves will be a carpet on the lawn.
I’m feeling a mixture of emotions. I don’t know why this idea of porn has come to mean so much to me, but it has. It’s more than just some silly notion.
I’m also relieved. Now I can tell Kingsley that I choose him.
I’m following Geoffrey’s advice. I’m listening to my heart.
“Is here good, miss?” Geoffrey grunts and puffs as he drags the small airbox ramp into place outside the classroom. Classes have not started yet, but we are running short of time. If we don’t hurry up, we’ll get caught.
“That’s great, Geoff. And now the launch ramp. Place it over there.”
Geoffrey gives me a droll lock. “You could always carry it over yourself, miss.”
“Nonsense, Geoff. I’m on lookout duty. Besides,”—I hold my nails up—“look at these babies. They’re new.”
Geoffrey’s face turns red as he drags the launch ramp over. “And I’m old, miss. My body squeaks. I might not be able to stand up straight ever again after this. I might become a modern Hunchback of Notre Dame. I’ll have no choice but to sue you for a work-related injury.”
I huff a laugh. “You’ll be fine, Geoff. You’re a spring chicken.”
Geoffrey grumbles under his breath as he drags it in to place before straightening back up and performing a number of stretches that have me in stitches.
I dig around in my bag and pull out a pair of bolt cutters, then grin widely as I hold them up in the air. “Are you ready to get your criminal side on?”
Geoffrey’s eyes bug out. “Miss, mind explaining why you have brought a pair of bolt cutters to school?”
I wink. “I’m going to need a bike.”
Geoffrey looks dumbfounded as he scans the bike shed. “What’s wrong with your bike, miss?”
I pull him along by his elbow. “Geoffrey, my bike is at home.”
“Are you telling me I nearly died dragging ramps into the school grounds undetected, and you didn’t bother to bring your own bike, young lady?”
“I don’t want my bike. I want that bike!” I reply with a grin, pointing to Kingsley’s shiny BMX.
“Are you offering to let me ride your bike?”
“Not a chance. No one rides her but me.”
“Well, today I’m riding your bike, Kingsley,” I whisper to myself, fighting the urge to rub my hands together and cackle like the wicked witch.
“One call, Kingsley. One call, and Geoffrey will cut your lock, buddy. Watch me ride your bike outside these windows.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Oh, but I would!”
“Are you okay, miss? You’re talking to yourself?”
I hand the bolt cutters to Geoffrey, who stares at them like they’re an alien life form.
“Why am I holding bolt cutters at a school in broad daylight?”
“Would you be more comfortable if it was dark?” I tease, then laugh at the dry look he gives me. “You’re going to cut Kingsley’s lock for me.”
Now it’s his turn to laugh. Oh, how he laughs! “Miss, did I ever tell you that you inherited your father’s terrible sense of humor.”
I tug on his mustache. “I’ve never been more serious, old man.”
His laughter dies in his throat. He crosses his arms, nearly poking me with the bolt cutters in the process. “Why should I involve myself in your criminal activities? Cut the lock yourself.”
I hold my nails up and batter my eyelids. “I would but look at these babies. Aren’t they beautiful? Besides, look at my arms”—I squeeze my skinny bicep—“I’m weak. That’s not a cheap lock, and cutting it requires a certain level of strength.” I poke his bicep. “You’re stronger than me.”
“And when you’re done with your little joyride, miss. What then? How is he going to lock his bike up?”
I wink as I unzip my bag and pull out another lock. “I’m already one step ahead of you.” I hold it up for him to see. “It’s an even better lock. Think about it, Geoff. You’ll be doing him a favor by cutting his very average midrange lock. His bike will have even better protection with this one.”
“You are positively evil, miss,” Geoffrey grumbles as he crouches down. “With your kind of persuasion powers, you’ll soon be recruited by the Russian mafia. Just you wait—it’s bike locks today and waterboarding enemy drug lords tomorrow.”
The bell rings.
“Oh my god, Geoff!” I laugh. “Hurry up before someone spots us.” I can already see students entering the classroom.
“Alright, alright, miss, don’t stress your old man. My blood pressure can’t handle it.” With a squeeze and a grunt, he manages to cut the lock, and I have to fight very hard not to squeal and jump up and down like a twelve-year-old girl.
I pull the beauty out of the stand and run my hands over her beautiful handlebars. The bike Kingsley lent me is a granny compared to his shiny baby.
“Now what, miss?”
“Now you watch.” I mount the bike and spin the pedals with my feet. Yes, perfect tension in the chain. I can easily perform an entire rotation with the cranks. What did I expect? This is Kingsley. Everything about his bike is perfection.
I feel like a kid at Christmas as I ride circles around Geoffrey. “I think the criminal life looks good on me, don’t you, Geoff?”
“I think I am quite going to enjoy your trip to detention today, miss.”
“Detention today, juvie tomorrow. I’m living on the wild side.” I perform a Bunny Hop and grin so big that my cheeks hurt. I spot Kingsley in the window. He sits hunched over his desk.
I plant my feet on the ground and put my helmet on before sending him a text.
Me: Full Cab. Exit from Fakie by performing a 360º rotation backed on rear wheel. In order to spin harder, end the arch with a bitch crank.
I pocket my phone, grab the handlebars, and kick off the ground.
Kingsley.
Why is it that teachers know how to bore you to death? An hour’s lesson with Mr. Wilbur can feel like a fucking century.
A text from Katherine pops up on my screen, so I grab the phone off my desk and swipe the screen. I can’t stop my smile when I see another description of a trick. I begin to type out another text, but Olivia taps my shoulder.
“Isn’t that your bike, Kingsley?”
I furrow my brows as I follow her line of sight. It takes me a moment to process what I’m looking at. Other students are starting to notice now too. Katherine is riding my bike and landing trick after trick. Sure, they are beginner’s tricks, but still. The last time I saw her on a bike, she squealed every time she thought she would fall off, and now she can perform a full 360º rotation jump.
“Watch me ride your bike outside these windows.”
Anyone else, and I would be angry, but I can’t find it within myself to be anything but amused. I’m fucking proud as I watch her mount the airbox, hop, and spin. Those are tricks you don’t learn overnight. She has spent hours and hours practicing.
And her smile…
My heart hurts when I think about the phone call from Hunter. She accepted the part… She’s going to act in a porn movie and let that Hunter guy fuck her on camera for everyone to see.
“What the fuck is she doing?” Olivia asks behind me as I stand up and walk over to the window. I’m not the only student pressed up against the glass.
Katherine pauses on top of the airbox, and our eyes collide before she winks and rides back down. Her long hair flies in the breeze. I stand frozen, watching as she performs a series of hops, barspins, and rotations.
She fucking terrifies me! Katherine puts her heart into everything she does and jumps right in at the deep end without a second thought. She’s a force to be reckoned with.
In the last couple of weeks, she’s dug her way deeper under my skin than I ever intended… I have to let her go! I can’t let myself feel any more than I already do. She has the power to shred me to fucking pieces and she’s leaving to join Hunter soon. She got what she wanted.
What can I offer someone like her? I’m a homeless eighteen-year-old little shit with nothing but a useless fucking bike. Hunter is a renowned pornstar and has his own production company.
Olivia’s hand on my back interrupts my self-deprecating thoughts.
I look back out the window and watch Katherine get escorted away by security. She’s laughing like this is the funniest thing to happen all year. Poor Geoffrey is forced to follow behind like an embarrassed parent. It makes me smile despite the pain in my chest.
“Come on, Kingsley. I want to show you something!” Olivia says when the bell rings, and because Katherine accepted the part in Hunter’s movie, I let Olivia lead me away from the window. Away from the only girl my heart aches for.
