Page 52 of Begin Again

Suddenly Kaden’s hands were around my ribs. He lifted me from the dresser and put me down on two feet. But my legs wobbled like Jell-O.

“Unpack,” he commanded, and went to the door. He turned around again to me, his gaze gliding from my flushed cheeks down my entire body. He shook his head and whispered, “Damn.”

How right he was.

“I hereby give you permission to cry,” Kaden said solemnly as I entered the living room. The pizza was already on the coffee table.

I grinned in spite of myself. “How nice of you. But I don’t think it’s necessary.”

“No?” He pointed to the pizza. “Are you sure?”

I looked at him. “Where were you the last few days?” I whispered.

Kaden leaned back on the sofa. “With Spencer.”

“How come?”

“The pizza’s getting cold.” He avoided looking at me, and reached for a napkin.

“How come?” I asked again and sat down on the opposite side of the sofa.

Kaden groaned. “Can’t we just leave it at that?”

“No.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re pretty sassy for someone who just got the best kiss of her life.”

“And you’re pretty full of yourself for an average kisser,” I shot back.

Kaden squinted at me, then stood up. “What did you just say?”

Before he could get any dumb ideas, I grabbed a slice of pizza from the table and bit into it. “I think you’re a mediocre kisser.”

Snorting, he sank back into the middle of the sofa. “I don’t believe you.”

I just shrugged and grinned with my mouth full. To be honest, I had felt Kaden’s kiss in every nook and cranny of my body. But I wasn’t about to let him know that.

We ate our pizza in silence.

“So, why did you want to leave?” Kaden asked after a while.

I stared at the wood grain of the table so I wouldn’t have to look at him. “Do we have to talk about it?”

“Yes. That’s the price of the pizza,” he said.

Now my ears pricked up. “So I don’t have to help pay for this if I tell you what’s up?”

“Exactly.” Kaden fixed his eyes on me.

“I failed my lit exam,” I admitted.

“If my escape instinct kicked in each time I failed an exam, I’d be halfway around the world by now,” he said, his mouth full of pizza.

I sniffed.

“Most people don’t pass Professor Falcony’s exam the first time around,” he continued, lifting his shoulders. “I didn’t either until the second try. So that’s not a legitimate reason to disappear without a trace.”

I pulled a long thread of cheese from my pizza slice and shoved it in my mouth.

---