Loving Kinnick

I Don't Like Being Hip Tossed By Someone Half My Size

"Kinnick!"

His head snapped to look at me. One second ago I was singing to the music playing in his truck. The next thing I know, my face is covered in ice cream. His laughter echoed in the small area. It is our one month anniversary, and he wanted to treat me. I am not sure how we ended up heading towards the gym and how I got ice cream on my face, but you know. It happens.

"Bookworm, you have something on your face."

I smacked his arm. "You did it on purpose!"

"You mean like this?" He tapped his break and the ice cream smacked my cheek.

"Why are you picking on me?"

"I'm your boyfriend. It's my job," he clapped my thigh.

After last night, I felt closer to him. I felt something shift in the way I looked at him, and how he treated me. He wasn't careful with his actions. The only thing to change was the way he looked at me. It was the kind of look that said, 'I've got you. Nothing will hurt you anymore because I am here.' I believed it.

He pulled in front of the gym. "I'll carry the bags. Go clean your face off, dork."

"Give me a smooch first."

"A smooch? Not with ice cream all over your face."

I grabbed his face and in between my hands and smashed my lips against his cheek. I made sure to wipe a majority of the sticky substance on his face. He sucked in a deep gasp at the cool sweet treat that touched his face.

"Boston Bennett, I'm going to kick your ass!"

Just as he was about to grab me, red and blue lights flashed behind us. Kinnick murmured curse words behind me. He seemed to memorize my dad's vehicle. His car door slammed as he walked to Kinnick's driverside window.

"Kinnick Carson," he seethed. "What is my daughter doing in your car?"

"How about you ask her yourself?" Kinnick showed his pearly white teeth.

"Boston Bennett, what the hell is all over your face?"

"Ice cream," I blushed.

"Get out of the truck."

"Gladly," I exited. "I have training to do."

"No," he growled. "You are going to get in the car because we are going home."

"I am nineteen," I felt ballsy. "I'm technically an adult, and this adult says she is going inside to train."

"Not with him," dad pointed at Kinnick.

"I'll see you inside," I looked at the blue-eyed boy.

I walked through the entrance door, finding John at the ring. "Hey, John!"

"Bo! Hey! Oh, what is on your face?"

"Ice cream."

"I need your advice," he called after me as I walked to the bathroom.

The phone in his hand started ringing. Miranda's name popped up on the screen, but he declined the call. I furrowed my brows, wondering how mad she would be. She would come to the gym, and give him a hard time.

"I don't love her, Bo," he sighs. "My parents don't know I am gay, though, so I chose to stay with her."

"But if you tell -"

"Their religion doesn't believe in gay marriage," he cuts me off. "And Miranda is pregnant. I don't know what I am going to do."

My face contorted with sadness as I reached out to hold his hand. The pain in my chest deepened when he told me it's not his kid. Just because he didn't love her didn't mean he doesn't want kids. He just wished it wasn't her kid he was having.