The Weight of Rain (44 page)

“Yeah.” I look toward Kenzie. She’s filing her nails, but I can tell she’s bothered. I’m pretty sure I wear that same expression most times I’m with my own brother. “See ya, Kenzie.”I don’t look to see if she turns her head. I’m not saying it for me.

King and I descend the stairs at a fast pace, his energy returning as soon as the door is closed.

“You seem happy,” I remark as we clear the last stair.

King looks over to me and a sly smile lifts only the right side of his lips, and then his hands are holding my jaw with an unfamiliar timidness and his lips are against mine. I don’t notice the softness of his lips or the sharpness of the short stubble on his chin against mine. It’s muted by the heat of his breath, and the pressure that counterbalances the tenderness of his hands. Then I forget that too and wind my arms around his neck so I can pull him closer to me. His fingers constrict slightly as a sound far too similar to a purr is made in the back of my throat, and my hands fist in his jacket. It only serves to send the scent of him in the breeze, making this energy that he’s passed on to me multiply.

A car horn stretches, and King’s head snaps back. I doubt that either of us would have given it a thought if it weren’t a foot away from us. A man waves his hand dismissively, his eyebrows drawn and mouth plastered into a frown, showing his frustration.

I glance down and laugh before grabbing King’s hand and pulling him out of the parking spot.

“What an asshole,” King mutters, standing beside the car as the man parks. His shoulders are wide as he stands slightly in front of me.

I jab him with my elbow and move toward his truck, hoping he won’t say anything to the guy but knowing this is the best deterrent I can offer.

“Have I told you how incredible you are?” His words are nearly as soft as his steps, startling me. Then he wraps a hand around my waist, bringing our hips together for the short distance to his truck.

“You weren’t even going to tell me, were you?” he asks.

“About today?”

“Yeah, about today.”

I shrug. “Only later if it worked. Then I would have gloated.”

“You’re such a liar.”

“How is she?” I was a little nervous about her going to her friend Paige’s this afternoon with everything transpiring, but she was sure she wanted to go.

“She has her head so far in the clouds, I think those girls could say anything they want and it wouldn’t touch her right now.”

I stop and lean my back against the cold metal of the door, sighing with relief. Although I felt it had gone well, I was still a little concerned it would bite her in the ass, and even more concerned she would hate me for embarrassing her.

“You were right, Lo. She’s too good to stoop to those levels. And your words about numbers, and how they don’t mean a damn thing—I think she really understood your message.”

“I talked a lot. Hopefully a couple of words got stuck in each of their heads.”

“Your words needed to be said. They’re going to be better people from the message you left with them today.”

“I said bullshit in the middle of it,” I admit.

King lets out a quiet laugh, his eyes sparking with that energy the car horn dimmed. “I don’t think it was the first time any of them had ever heard it. But your cheeks turned red, and you looked really cute.”

“How do you know?”

“Mercedes taped it.”

“What?”

“We watched you on the big screen, baby.” He’s teasing but sincere, making it both sweet and maddening.

“If you mock me…” I warn.

King’s eyebrows shoot up. “Babe, you’re cute when I mock you, and I like getting you playful and feisty, but I would never mock you for this. You went above and beyond, and your love for Mercedes, and even those other kids that you’re trying to help, makes me respect you more than I already did, and I didn’t know that was even possible. I’m going to take you home and worship you.”

K
ING’S
practices increase along with his media coverage and invitations. It isn’t long before he’s gone more than he was while trying to get things sorted with the PR team in Switzerland for Kash. This time it’s both easier and harder. We’re getting better at communicating, touching base even if it’s only for a few stolen minutes between conflicting schedules. I’m so immensely proud of him and know with how often he reaches out that we’re on stable ground, both of us fully invested. I also miss him somehow more than I did then when I would get moody and depressed from not seeing him. Now I’m mopey. Mercedes keeps me busy, and modeling practice has moved up to three times a week in preparation for the show Friday. But I have a bigger project that hours of my day keep getting lost to: King’s logo. Summer has taken so many pictures of him, but I already know which image I’ll be using, and it isn’t in a photograph.

I reach for my phone to check the time. I’m supposed to be meeting Charleigh in five minutes at the restaurant. I’m excited to see her yet still slightly nervous because of the turbulence we experienced. Relationships have never been my forte, even friendships, so I like to think this is just natural progression, a required growth that will make us stronger like Allie has said.

The restaurant is warm and fairly sparse since it’s just after four. Mercedes is with Robert today, giving me hours I’ve rarely seen since summer.

“Lo!” Mia calls warmly as she winds around the small desk. “How are you?”

My smile is an instant reaction to her. I think regardless of how much time spans, I will always think fondly of this place and the people here.

“Your mural is unreal, Lo! I can’t believe how good it turned out! You wouldn’t believe how many people ask about it! Estella is absolutely in love with it! When we don’t see her for a while, we come out here and she’s just staring at it. I can’t believe you haven’t been around!”

“I’m really glad you guys like it.”

“Like is an understatement. I mean, we all knew you could draw, but girl, you can
draw
,” Mia says. “And paint too, apparently,” she adds with a small laugh.

“Don’t fill her head too high; she has to be able to walk back out of here.”

Mia and I both turn to see Charleigh, her hair in a large bun and her cheeks rosy from running in the rain.

“Hey, stranger!” Mia calls.

“Hi, Mia.”

“You guys here for an early dinner?”

“I’m starved,” Charleigh answers, following Mia to a booth near the back that sits against a window. They all know about my love to people-watch.

“Lauren,” Charleigh says after Mia walks away.

I slide my menu down and slowly move my gaze up to meet hers.

“You don’t hate me, do you?”

“No!” The word pops from my mouth. I’m shocked it was even a question.

“I know we both apologized, but I couldn’t stand for you to hate me. I know I said some things that were a little forward, and I didn’t mean to hurt you. Your relationship with your mum is something that I know is none of my business, but it really bothers me. She shouldn’t treat you the way she does, and it upsets me that you allow her to. And while I think you should have kicked Kenzie’s arse a couple of times this last year, I know that’s not you…”

Charleigh rubs a hand across her forehead. “Dammit, I’m doing it again. I’m shit with giving advice, especially here. You guys are all so sweet with your … what do you call them? Word sandwiches? The positives covering a negative thing you all do. It’s bollocks, really, because I think the negative can easily get lost, or more importantly, people don’t hear the positives at all, but whatever. I’m going to do this the British way and just tell you how it is. You need to stop worrying about your mum, and everyone else, and do what’s best for you right now.”

I watch her eyes that are wide and set on me. There’s an appreciation I’ve always had for Charleigh because she doesn’t feed anyone a line of bullshit. If she doesn’t like you or something you’re doing, she never has a problem stating so. Maybe she’s right—maybe we have gotten so lost in trying to be so nice and protect everyone’s feelings, that we’ve lost sight of how destructive it is to have negativity laced within a compliment. Like having someone insult you and then deliver a laugh so that you’re not positive they’ve really insulted you, or if they are merely joking.

“That means a lot to me.”

Charleigh smiles, but it’s reserved, hiding something that I can tell she’s prepared to affront me with, but Mia arrives with a large platter filled with appetizers—Charleigh’s and my favorite way to eat—and her attention is instantly averted.

“So what’s this mysterious boy of yours like? Are you ever going to introduce him?”

“He’s coming to the show on Friday with me.”

“Really?” My curiosity is piqued, and I can tell by her smile that she knows.

“You’re going to be surprised. He doesn’t look like other guys I’ve dated.” I’ve only met two guys that she dated, and neither left a big enough impression for me to create a class of guys that she likes. All I know is she liked pictures of guys with big biceps, licking them and claiming them like it meant something significant. “He’s perfect though, and he’s funny, and … he’s perfect”

“I’m glad. I know you wouldn’t settle for less, and you shouldn’t.”

Charleigh’s smile begins from my words and then transgresses into something personal, like she’s celebrating something only she’s fully aware of. I’m envious of it initially, and then I think of King and feel my own lips curling. I understand what those stolen kisses and soft touches, tucked pieces of hair, inside jokes, and shared knowing smiles equate to. They aren’t something that can be explained because like many things in life, words do not equate.

“So, I’ve told my mum and dad that I’m staying for another year. They went ballistic initially, but I think they understand now.”

“Does that change your immigration status?”

“I’ve applied for my F-1 Visa, which allows me to stay another year after graduating. In that time, I’m hoping I’ll be able to find a job or something that will allow me to stay longer. This one usually goes fairly fast because it’s specialized for students graduating. I’m hoping it comes quickly though. Otherwise, I have to go back, then apply. If they lapse, it gets a lot more complicated.”

“But you’ve got everything in?”

She nods, stabbing a large bit of taquito with her fork. “I think this is the right thing. I mean, I love fashion, and I’m hoping I can do something with it, but for now, I think just getting to enjoy life is what I’m supposed to do.”

“W
E’RE
late! We’re late! Let’s go!” Allie is barreling down the stairs, garment bags folded over her arms.

We aren’t late, but I know from previous dressings that on time equates to late to many of these people. I follow her to her car and help load things into the trunk.

“Where’s Charleigh?” I ask.

“Meeting us there. Where’s King?”

“Same.”

“Are you ready?” Allie asks, smoothing a loose hair back into her braid. For how stressed out she’s been and was just mere moments ago, she seems composed, relaxed—the complete opposite of me. I’m pretty certain if she pays attention long enough, she’ll see that I’m shaking, all of me, like I’m the epicenter of an earthquake. She nods once and opens the driver’s side door. “Let’s go.”