“Dude,” Kellan calls. “We can play right now if you want. Don’t be mad.”
The only response is the front door slamming shut, an ominous chill wafting up the steps.
“Wow.” Kellan runs his hands over his hair. “Can you believe this? That guy has not been himself lately. I’m getting kind of worried.”
His eyes are glazed, his shirt is buttoned incorrectly, and suddenly I’m exhausted. Whatever heat had been brewing in this kitchen was extinguished by Kellan’s untimely arrival, and I don’t know if I’m relieved or disappointed. When I look at him, however, I feel nothing but tired.
“I’m going to bed,” I mutter, rounding the breakfast bar and heading for my room.
“Do you want to play Target Ops: Fury?” he calls. In all the countless hours he’s spent playing that stupid game, he’s never once asked me, and no part of me wants to join him now. Plus I’m pretty sure that if I agreed he’d find some way to disappear, anyway.
“No,” I say, tugging my bedroom door closed. “I don’t.”
chapter eight
The next morning I emerge from my room to find Kellan sitting on the couch, studying. “Hey,” he says.
I frown and swipe a self-conscious hand over my tangled hair. “What are you doing here?” Kellan never comes home on Friday night—or Saturday, for that matter—so even though I’d seen him, I’d somehow assumed he would vanish again before sunrise.
I shuffle into the kitchen, rubbing my bleary eyes and wishing my hair didn’t look like it had exploded over night. My plan was to grab a glass of water and some crackers—prison fare, or a perfectly normal breakfast if you’re a college student who doesn’t know how to meal plan—then trek to the grocery store before heading to work at three.
“Nora.”
I close the fridge door and turn to see Kellan standing at the entrance to the kitchen, clutching a small bouquet of flowers wrapped in pink cellophane. “What’s happening?”
“I’m so sorry,” he says earnestly, my second kitchen apology in twelve hours. “I totally fucked up last night. I absolutely forgot we had plans—I made the reservation and everything—and I feel like such an asshole. I’m so, so sorry. Please forgive me.”
I stare at the flowers like they might be covered in anthrax. How many girls would die to get flowers from Kellan McVey? Okay, fine—a tiny part of me still wants to raise her hand. But standing here holding my crackers, the position is a stark reminder of last night’s disappointment and a few flowers aren’t going to fix it.
“That was really rude,” I say.
“I know. I’m so—”
“I waited for you.”
“I—”
“And I felt like an idiot.”
“Please—”
“And I was starving.” Because I wasn’t expecting to see Kellan for a while, I really hadn’t decided how to handle this confrontation. It looks like I’m going with the direct approach.
He rubs his free hand over his face. “I was drunk when I got home and I didn’t even remember. I turned off my phone at the game and this morning I saw the call from the restaurant asking about the reservation and it all came back to me and—I’m sorry, Nora. Really. Truly. Please forgive me. I like you and you’re a good roommate and I’d never hurt your feelings on purpose. Or make you hungry, for any reason.”
I try to hold onto my anger, but even though I’m offended to have been forgotten—again—the truth is, Crosbie’s visit took away a lot of the sting of Kellan’s disappearing act. I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding. “Forget about it,” I tell him. Unlike my “whatever” to Crosbie last night, this time I mean it. Those two events hurt on two wholly different levels, and I’m not about to risk taking the time to figure out why.
Kellan looks relieved. “Thank you,” he says, stepping in and folding me in an awkward hug. Apart from our initial handshake and one high five he insisted on after achieving a top score in Fire of Vengeance, I’m not sure we’ve ever actually touched. Except for that time we had sex and he forgot about it.
“No problem,” I say when we step back. “Now if you’ll excuse me…” I hold up the crackers. “I’m going to have breakfast, then take a shower.”
He eyeballs the crackers. “That’s breakfast?”
“It’s grocery day.”
“Do you want some mac and cheese instead? I have lots.”
My stomach roils. “I’m all set.”
Suddenly he points at me. “That’s it,” he announces, like he’s just solved all the world’s problems. “I’ll take you to the grocery store. I have a car, so we can go to Carters, not the place on campus.”