Page 15 of Carnal Games

“Feelings are fucking messy. Especially negative ones.”

I nod. “My mom always says that everything is temporary. One day, you may feel sad, but the next day could be your happiest. So, don’t worry or stress too much over anything.”

“This too shall pass.”

I smile. “Yes. Exactly.”

“I’ll have to learn to be positive like you.”

“I could give you lessons.”

He laughs, his mood lightening up. “Why didn’t I meet you sooner? You’re not just a good listener, Iris. You’re also a hidden gem of wisdom,” he teases. “What if I need to talk to you again? How do I find you? Colliding into each other at a grocery store sounds risky.”

“Yep. One day I might actually fall on my ass.”

“I’ll never let that happen,” he promises. “Still better not to risk it. Do you mind if I get your number?”

I feel like I hit the jackpot at his offer. At the same time, the guilty feeling grows. Not enough to stop me, though. “Sure.”

We exchange numbers.

“I’m glad we met, Iris,” says Nathan, pocketing his phone. “Something tells me we’ll become really good friends.”

That ball of guilt intensifies, reminding me I’m an imposter.

“Me too, Nathan.”

“Do you need me to drop you off?”

“No, that’s okay. I like to walk.”

We stand from the bench and walk to the store, where Nathan turns to me one final time. “Will you be here tomorrow?”

“I don’t know.”

He nods in understanding. “If you need help staying away from him, I can distract you.”

You’ll be doing the opposite.

“Is it another one of your qualities you’re good at?”

“You could say that.” He smirks. “What else are friends for?”

“Fine. You’re officially responsible for ensuring I don’t turn into a stalker.” I’m setting him up for failure. However, I do mean I want to become his friend. Our connection is genuine. Besides, I’m the only one who stands to hurt in this arrangement.

“I like a good challenge.” Walking backward, he waves. “I’ll text you soon, crazy Iris.”

I laugh at his nickname for me. “Bye, Nathan.”

Half an hour later, I reach my home on cloud nine—actually even higher—and go straight to my room.

Shutting the door, I jump on my bed.

“Kian,” I say his name out loud in the privacy of my bedroom for the first time. Turning on my stomach, I scream into my pillow giddily. Feet kicking in the air, my heart rateaccelerating to wild degrees when I repeat it. Especially, when I murmur our names together, “Kian and Iris…. Iris and Kian.”

It tastes forbidden.

Like all my favorite things.

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