Page 37 of Brash for It
I nod.
“Tell him Lana says he still owes me a new rosary,” she says, amused.“We broke mine when he tied my hands together with it.He had me crying out to Heaven that night for sure.”She waves and glides away before I can decide whether I hate her or want to follow her into the parking lot and ask for a manual.
I’m still staring at the empty space where she stood when Trina reappears with a stack of clean towels.She clocks my face in one glance, then angles her body to block me from the rest of the room.“You look like someone just put vinegar in your honey.”
“Do you know a Lana?”I ask, voice low.
Trina’s mouth does a shape that is not quite a smile.“We’ve met.”
“She said,” I swallow.This is so petty.I sound like a teenager.I’ve already started might as well finish.“She said Kellum’s the best sex of your life.But he’ll never commit.”
Trina folds a towel with practiced precision.“Both are true.”Then softly, “or neither.One day there will be someone to top him in bed and one day there will be a woman to tame the wild side to Pretty Boy.”
“I feel stupid,” I confess.The words tumble faster now, tripping over each other.“Jealous, which is dumb because he and I haven’t even, and I want him, and I also want to not want him so I don’t turn into a version of myself I hate.And I feel like she knows a club I don’t have the password to and she was telling me I’m not on the list.”
Trina leans her hip on the counter, eyes kind and sharp.“That’s a lot of feelings before lunch.”
“I know.”I press fingers to my temples.“I just… is there something wrong with me that no one wants me?”The last words come out before I can stop them and hang there, ugly and true.“Not my ex, and not him.”
Trina’s gaze warms and cools at once.“Your ex didn’t want anyone.He wanted everyone.And Kellum—” She huffs.“Kellum’s a complicated man.But I haven’t seen him do for anyone what he’s doing for you.”
My face scrunches.“What do you mean?”
“Kristen,” she whispers softly, “he gave you a key.”
The sentence lands square.I feel it everywhere.“A key,” I repeat, like maybe the word itself can steady me.
Trina nods.“A key.He doesn’t do that.He doesn’t let women sleep over.Ever.And if Lana wants to measure you up she’s picked the wrong one.Different people, different math.She’s not in your league.I don’t know what goes on with you two privately.Not my business.I will tell you, though, Kellum is blunt, brash, and brutal at times.He respects directness.Don’t play games, don’t get caught up in anything said by anyone but him.His word is as solid as it comes even when the truth stings he gives it straight.You want more out of this, talk to him.That’s the best advice I can give you.”
It helps.Not enough to stop the little gnawing thing inside me that wants to be chosen in a way that sticks, but enough to get me through the rest of the shift without making more of a fool of myself.
The rest of the day drags.Every ring of the phone is a jolt.Every time the door opens, my head jerks up, hoping and dreading.When the clock clicks over to five, my stomach is a knot.
The low thrum of a bike threads through the spa music a minute later.My bones know the sound.I stand, trying not to smooth my hair like a girl caught at a dance without a partner.
Trina catches my eye.“Breathe,” she mouths.
I try.
Kellum fills the doorway a beat later—leather, heat, the kind of presence that makes the air reorganize itself.His eyes skim the room, land on me, and something in his face eases that I didn’t realize was tight until our eyes met.
“Ready?”he asks.
I nod, throat suddenly dry.“Yeah.”
Outside, the evening light makes everything look gentler than it is.He holds out the helmet, like always.I take it, like always.But I don’t meet his eyes, and he notices because he notices everything.His hand hovers at my lower back, then drops.
“You good?”he asks because this is Kellum.
“Fine,” I lie.
He doesn’t push in the parking lot.He waits until we’re moving, until my arms are around him and the wind is our third party, until I’m a little trapped with nowhere to run from the question.
“What’s wrong,” he says into the air.
The knot in my stomach tightens.“Nothing.”
He snorts.“Try again.”
