Not My Problem || Kai Anderson

toxic

      "Y/N wait," he reached just above my head and slammed the door shut in front of me. "What is your problem?"

   "My  problem!" I whipped around. "What is yours?!"

   "Well there's a half dressed girl screaming at me in my apartment."

I looked down briefly and wrapped his flannel a bit more tightly around myself. He raised one eyebrow and a smirk played at his lips.

   "Oh would you stop it!" I exclaimed. "What is with you? I mean, you act like a jerk, you bring girls in and out all the time, lie your way into staying at my apartment longer than necessary, I think you're being genuinely nice but who knows, then you ask me out, but then you see 'Allie'," I said the name in a mock, whiny voice.
"And then suddenly you lose all interest and we can't go out? Fine. Whatever. Then you're back to being a playboy and smoking and acting like I never even mattered to y--"

I was cut off by Kai's lips crashing into mine. I was completely taken aback, but couldn't deny how much I fantasized about this moment. I let myself sink into it, forgetting everything I'd just said. He pulled me to him by my waist, and I grabbed the collar of his shirt and tilted my head. We were breathing fast and hard through our noses, trying every which angle to get impossibly closer to each other. His hand worked its way up the back of my shirt to the small of my back.

We began stumbling toward the couch, still not breaking contact, and we had turned so that I was the one walking backwards. Rationality be damned, I began removing the button-up he'd put on me, just as he bit my bottom lip, giving me full body chills. The back of my thighs hit the arm of his couch, and I realized just how far this was going, and how fast.

   "Kai," I pulled away, getting a good look at his dazed expression and pink cheeks.

   "Mmm say it again," he moaned. "I want to hear you beg."

   "Okay then," I reluctantly and gently pushed him off of me. "I'm begging you to tell me what the hell is going on with... this." I pointed back and forth between us.

He took a long, deep breath, I assume to gather himself, and took a step back.

   "Okay, you want the truth?" He began in a low voice. "You scare me."

I'd never been more confused. What about me could possibly scare him? Noticing the absolutely bewilderment all over my face, he went on.

   "I like you."

   "Well I'd really hope so after that," I remarked.

   "No like," he struggled to articulate his thoughts. "I really like you. Like I've never liked anyone before. I don't know how to handle it, I don't like that."

I gulped at his confession. When I didn't respond, but no longer looked angry or upset, he continued.

   "Your humor, your innocence, the way you look and move," he ran his hands through his hair. "It's addicting. And don't even get me started now on your lips."

I blushed at his comment, thinking of the heat between us just moments ago.

   "Not to mention how easy it is to get you flustered," he beamed, and hooked a finger through my beltloop. "I wanted to be around you, but I didn't wanna ruin it. Ruin you."

   "How could you ruin me?" I asked, perplexed.

   "I'm not... good," he sat on the edge of a shelf on his entertainment center. "Why did Allie tell you we broke up?"

   I internally cringed at his nickname for her, but responded, "She said she wasn't in a healthy headspace; not ready for a real relationship."

   "God, that girl," he replied, his mouth now just a pressed line on his face.

   "Is that not true...?"

   "No, that's what I told her."

   "Wha--?" I was flabbergasted. "Why would she lie?"

   "I don't know," he shrugged, seeming almost as confused as I was. "She was really into me, and we didn't really end on great terms."

   "And as for your, well, booty calls?"

   "Is this the 90's? Nobody calls it that," he laughed affectionately at me. "See what I mean about you though? Adorable."

I raised my eyebrows and waited for him to explain the not-90s-booty-calls.

   "They were attempts to get my mind off you," he admitted. "And I know how stupid that sounds now that I'm saying it out loud, but hey," he tapped his finger on his temple, "never said I was smart."

   I rolled my eyes fondly at him and he went on, "Half the time we just smoked and I listened to them blab about their fake friends and ex boyfriends. The few I actually did do stuff with, we couldn't go any farther because... well, I couldn't get.. you know," he rotated his hands in the air, waiting for me to realize what he meant.

Oh.

My brows rose and I blinked hard, having no idea what to say. I went with the first thing that popped in my head.

   "That's... a lot to take in."

   "Yeah," he said sadly and quietly. "So, I'm the toxic one. I was gonna cancel our date because I couldn't drag you down with me, and I was honestly scared of the idea of a serious relationship. Well, messing one up that is. I have a lot of shit to figure out. And you're good, too good for me."

   "There you go speaking for me again," I sauntered over to him, and lifted his face to look at me. "I'm a big girl, ok? I bake my own lavender donuts and everything."

He smiled at the memory of us meeting.

   "I know you're good, I just know you are," I assured him some more. "You stood up for me, you comforted me, without being inappropriate, hell you literally saved me from a burning building."

   He looked to the floor shyly, "I guess that's true."

   "So please, let me decide what's good for me. In whatever way you're comfortable with, as long as you can say the same for me."

   He stood and grabbed both of my hands, holding steady eye contact, "Of course."

   "I won't even force any labels," I promised. "We'll just take it slow. Hang out."

   He pressed his forehead to mine, "Your taste in men is just awful."

   "Lucky for you," I joked back, and pulled away to boop his nose. "And you know what?" I paused nervously. "I  can be rebellious too."

   "Oh yeah?" he asked, dimples appearing with my favorite smile in the world.

   "I think we should smoke."