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Being in his room with him again, brought back even more memories that I didn't want to have right now. They got especially vivid when Kellan took off his shirt. I turned and headed back to the door when he started unbuttoning his jeans. As I was closing his door though, I couldn't help but leave it slightly cracked and watch him. He started taking his jeans off, stumbling, and having a little trouble with the wet fabric. I considered going back to help him, but he finally managed on his own. Just in his boxers, he stood staring at his bed.
Suddenly, he ran his hand through his wet hair and turned to look at the door. I didn't know if he could see me though the crack. I didn't think so, with how difficult it had been for him to focus on me in the shower. I felt a little guilty watching him without him knowing, but I was just so curious as to what he was doing, I couldn't stop.
His face was unreadable. He simply looked at the door, then back to his bed, then the door again. One last time he looked at his bed and then he seemed to lose the battle against gravity, falling heavily on top of the sheets.
I watched for a few moments longer. When his breathing was slow and even, I figured he had finally passed out and I crept back into his room. I paused, watching his aching perfection in slumber. Finally, I fixed the messy pile of sheets around him until he was covered. Watching over him, I had a crazy desire to kiss him. I sat on the edge of his bed, sighed softly and leaned in to kiss his forehead. I brushed his hair back and stroked his cheek, wondering where he went today. . . if he had thought about our night together at all. Should I have told him Denny came back? Would he tell Denny? Would things change?
He stirred and I pulled my hand from his cheek. His hazy eyes found mine and I froze. "Don't worry," he mumbled. "I won't tell him. " Then his eyes closed and he passed out.
I sat on the edge of the bed, wondering about that. Would he really not tell him? How did he even know he was back? What would tomorrow be like. . . ?
Chapter 8
The Asshole
The following morning I woke up groggy; it had been really hard to crawl back into bed with Denny. Especially when in his slumber, he had sighed happily and reached out for me. The guilt that had washed through me then had almost made me bolt from the room, yet again. But I made myself close my eyes and stay there.
So, as I turned the corner to the kitchen in the morning, surprise stopped me in the doorway. Even dead drunk the night before, Kellan still woke before me. But unlike every other morning since I had moved in, for the first time ever that I had seen in fact - Kellan looked like crap. He had thrown his t-shirt from last night back on, but was still in his boxers. His hair, while still messy and fabulous, seemed to accentuate how tired his face looked, highlighted the deep circles under his eyes and his shockingly pale skin. He was sitting at the kitchen table, hunched over, with his head held in his hands. He was breathing very slowly and carefully through his mouth.
"Are you okay?" I whispered.
He grimaced in pain and looked up at me. "Yes," he whispered back. He looked anything but.
"Coffee?" I barely breathed the word, to spare him a little pain.
He cringed anyway, but nodded his head. I went over to make a pot, looking at him curiously. Having just been through what he felt now, I did empathize with him, although it was his own fault for getting that ripping drunk. I tried to make as little noise as possible, but every clink, every bump, even the water running, made him wince a little. He must really be in pain.
I couldn't help but wonder who, or what, had driven him to such excess. Where had he been all day yesterday while I was suffering? I tried to run through our limited conversation last night, but he hadn't said more than a couple sentences, so I wasn't getting any clues about what he had been out doing. One comment he had made, did stand out however.
Without thinking, I blurted it out at regular volume. "How did you know Denny was back?" His head sank to the table in a groan and I guiltily covered my mouth with my hand.
"Saw his coat," he mumbled.
I blinked, surprised. He hadn't seemed aware of anything last night, let alone something as small and insignificant as a jacket on the chair.
"Oh. " Not knowing what else to say about that, and worried about his suddenly paler color, I asked him again, "Are you sure you're okay?"
Irritation flared in his eyes as he glanced up at me. "I'm fine," he stated coldly.
Confused, I finished making the coffee and waited at the counter while it brewed. Once it was done, I grabbed two mugs from the cupboard. Suddenly he broke the quietness. "Are you. . . okay?" he asked slowly.
I looked over at him. He had an odd look on his face as he watched me. Hoping he felt a little better, I smiled at him reassuringly. "Yes, I'm great. "
A wave of nausea seemed to pass over him. He laid his arms down on the table and buried his head in them. His breathing was forced, like he was trying very hard again to keep it even. I started pouring our cups of coffee, hoping that would somehow help him.
"Put a little Jack in that. " He turned slightly towards me, so I could understand him. I smirked back at him. He wasn't serious, was he? He raised his head to look at me, no humor in his eyes. "Please. "
I sighed and shrugged my shoulders. "Whatever. "
I scrounged as quietly as I could above the fridge for a bottle of Jack Daniels. I set the bottle on the table in front of him. Kellan didn't move his head from his arms. Making my cream and sugar coffee, I left one black and set it quietly in front of him. He still didn't move. I poured just a smidge of Jack in, and then attempted to close the bottle.
Kellan coughed at me, and motioned with his fingers to pour more, his head still resting on his arms. I sighed and let an obscenely large amount go into his mug. He lifted his head a tiny bit and glanced at me. "Thank you. "
I put the bottle away and joined him at the table. He took a rather long sip of his coffee, inhaling through his teeth a little bit afterwards. It was probably a little strong. I hoped, at the very least, it would help his head.
I sipped my coffee in silence, not knowing what to say to this man, that such a short time ago, I had been so intimate with. I had a million questions, most revolving around whether or not I had meant anything to him. . . and whether our relationship was intact. . . and where the heck did he go yesterday? I finally decided that there was only one pressing issue that I needed to discuss with him now, while Denny was still upstairs.
"Kellan. . . " I really did not want to have this conversation, "the other night. . . " He watched me over his coffee. I couldn't tell what he was thinking and he said nothing.
I cleared my throat. "I just don't want a. . . misunderstanding," I finished quietly. I didn't really know what I meant by that. I didn't know how I felt about this man, who had been nothing but sweet to me while Denny was away. I couldn't ponder it though. . . not with Denny back. I just didn't want our friendship to change. He was. . . important to me.
He took a long draw on his coffee again before responding. "Kiera. . . there are no misunderstandings between us. " His voice was cold and flat, it gave me chills. My stomach clenched as I wondered if it was too late, if our friendship was already too changed.
We sat in silence and finished the rest of our coffees. I poured another black one for Kellan and watched, relieved, when he drank it without alcohol. A little while later, Denny came down, saying hello to Kellan and looking at him quizzically, since he really did look awful.
"You okay, mate?" he asked politely, while slipping an arm around my shoulder as I sat at the table. I tensed, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable with Denny and Kellan in the same room.
Kellan flinched a little. "No, actually, I'm going to go lie back down. Glad you're home, Denny. " He walked by him, avoiding his eyes, and I heard him head back up the stairs.
Denny watched him leave, frowning. "God, he looks awful. Wonder what happened to him?"
"Probably some girl. " There was s
ome irritation in my voice when I said that, and Denny looked down at me.
"Everything all right between you two, while I was gone?" He smiled when he said it, so I wasn't sure if he suspected anything or not.
My stomach gave me a fluttery panic attack, but I managed to smile and slip my arms around his waist. "Except for how much I missed you, everything was fine. " I felt horrid. Maybe I should just tell him?
His eyes glowed with warmth and love as he looked down on me. I realized then, that I couldn't tell him, even if I wanted to. I couldn't stand those eyes looking at me in any other way. He leaned down and kissed me sweetly. "I missed you too. . . but. . . "
I pulled back and looked at him cautiously. "But, what?"
He sighed softly. "I don't have a job now, Kiera. We can't stay here on just your income. I need to meet some people today, see if I can't get something lined up. " He shrugged and looked at me hopefully.
I bit back my irritation, remembering all that he had given up for me. Remembering how much he should be angry at me. . . if he only knew. "Right now. . . ?" I asked, equally hopeful that he would decide to start tomorrow, and I could have him for a full day, after so much time apart. I could skip school, heck, I could skip work, to be with him today.
"I'm sorry. I need to get on this right away. I know a half-dozen people I could talk to today. " He pulled me up from the chair into a hug and I closed my eyes, wishing he would stay, but knowing he needed to leave. . . yet again.
"Fine. . . " I lifted my head up and kissed his neck. "I know you'll find something. . . being brilliant and all. " I half-grinned at him. "No worries, right?"
He laughed. "Right. . . she'll be apples. "
I frowned. "I've never understood that one, but. . . yeah. "
He smiled as he looked down at me. "How did I get so lucky?" he asked me softly.
I couldn't stop the small tears of guilt from springing to my eyes. If he only knew. . . he wouldn't think nearly as highly of me. Taking my tears for happiness, he kissed my cheek and led me back upstairs, where he got dressed and ready to leave to try and find some work. I sat on the bed, watching him in silence. I tried not to worry about him finding something. . . and tried not to feel guilty about it either. But the guilt came anyway. Guilt over the loss of his job, guilt over Kellan, over the secrets I had to hide from Denny now. I had never had any secrets from him before. I didn't like it.
He kissed me goodbye on the bed, eager to get a jump on his hopeful day. I kissed him back and wished him good luck. I could hear him walk down the stairs, hear the door close and hear his car pull away. Loneliness swept over me. How did forty-eight hours change. . . everything? I stayed on the bed for awhile considering that, and then with a sigh, I got dressed for school.
I didn't see Kellan again, as I fixed my hair and makeup, grabbed my book bag and a jacket, and made my way outside. I looked over at the empty driveway. Kellan would have to pick up his car from Sam's later, I thought idly. I looked back at the house, at the window that looked into the kitchen. Surprisingly, Kellan was standing there, watching me leave, his face unreadable. I started to wave goodbye but he turned almost immediately and was gone. I swallowed back the sudden emotion. How badly had I messed up our friendship?
My head was impossible to keep in the lectures today. I kept drifting between happiness that Denny was back, to guilt that he'd given up so much for me, to guilt that I had been unfaithful to him, to grief at the loss of my friendship with Kellan, to irritation that I didn't seem to mean as much to Kellan as I'd thought, to irritation at myself for wanting it to mean something more to him, back to guilt, that he was taking up so much of my thoughts and not Denny, which started the whole vicious cycle again. My head hurt by the end of the day.
Denny was still out job-hunting when I got back home. I walked through the front door and decided that a little mindless TV might distract my dark thoughts. As I looked into the living room, I saw that Kellan was sprawled out on the couch, still in his boxers, staring at the TV, but probably not even seeing it. I debated just going upstairs and hiding until Denny got home. I shook my head a little, putting down my bag and hanging up my jacket. As casually as I could, I walked into the room and sat down in the chair opposite the couch. Eventually things would have to get back to normal, this weirdness would have to pass, and I didn't want to prolong it by avoiding him.