He's the guy moms warn their daughters about. Bold, outspoken, and self-confident, Brian O'Brien returns to his hometown only to discover some things changed in his absence.
Brian has a new neighbor - a shy, smart girl Leah, who hates his guts since...
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Clutching the roses in my sweaty hands, I am waiting for Kitten to exit the school. My gaze lingers on the faces of nameless students. The crowd is dense, and I'm afraid of missing the moment she appears, but then, it happens.
Seeing her delicate frame in the throng of people makes my heart squeeze in my chest. I become painfully aware of every little thing about her, especially the sadness on her beautiful face. I caused it, and I am willing to beg if that's what it takes.
"Leah!"
I rush toward her, and she slows down and turns her head to spare me a glance. I'm afraid to see hurt or, worse, hatred directed at me in her eyes. When it doesn't happen, the relief I feel is enormous.
"These are for you," I say and give her the flowers with my shaky hands.
"Thank you," Kitten whispers, bringing the roses to her face and inhaling the scent.
"Baby, I'm sorry," I start saying, but Leah's hand seizes my wrist.
"Not here, Brian. Can you take me home? Not mine; yours."
"Sure, baby. Let's go."
I place my hand on the small of Kitten's back with extra gentleness and lead her to my bike.
A short ride later, we're next to my house. I hold Leah's hand as we make our way in, afraid to let go of her.
"Water," she mumbles, and I get a vase for the flowers. Leah puts the roses in it and goes upstairs to my room after leaving the bouquet on the kitchen table.
I follow her to my bedroom, anxious and uneasy. She seems too calm, and it cannot be good.
Closing the door behind us, I lean against it and study Kitten's face as she sits on my bed, looking at my comforter when I want her to look at me. Her hand comes to rest on her stomach, and I wonder if she ate.
"Kitten," I say in a whisper.
A sob tears through her, and Leah buries her face in her palms, shaking as she cries.
I'm next to her in a heartbeat, drawing my arms around her thin body and holding her tightly to me.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I repeat, feeling her pain and her hurt as if they were mine and hating myself for what I did, for being a fucking immature idiot who doesn't seem to be able to grow up.
"It's okay," Leah says, wiping at her tear-stained cheeks. "I shouldn't have insisted on college knowing you don't want to do it."
