Thin Love (28 page)

Clearly,
she thought,
insanity runs in that thick Hawaiian blood.
“I am so not Kona’s one.”

“Stranger things have happened. Hell, I’m not asking you to marry him. I’m asking you to give him a break when he gets a little crazy. I’m asking you not to give up on him.”

When Keira only stared at Luka, mouth once again quirked in that weird ache of frown, he slumped against the footboard, rubbing his eyes. She played “Black” by Pearl Jam, a song about goodbyes that fit Keira’s mood and her erratic thoughts about Kona.

“God, Keira, you’re stubborn as hell.”

She played louder, looking down at her hands like a kid just figuring finger movements just so she could tune out the pathetic whine in Luka’s voice. It reminded her of Kona, of the way he pouted when she refused to kiss him or when he wasn’t getting his way. “You sound like your brother.” She ignored Luka’s heavy exhale and continued playing the song. “Is that genetic? The whiny bullshit?”

“Yes, but our mom says it’s from the sperm donor’s side of the family.” Luka nudged her knee with his foot and she finally looked up at him. When she did, that stupid smile was back, this time stretched so wide that dimples appeared in his right cheek. “Come on, please? Just talk to him. Give him another chance. Maybe you can talk some sense into him or at least get him out of this funk he’s in. Let him grovel a little.”

Keira didn’t think the sperm donor blood had anything to do with the Hale pouts or the asinine things Luka and Kona did, but somehow she knew, deep in her gut, that Luka’s smile was about to get her into a lot of stupid shit.

He felt like a God. He was Kona, God of awesome. God of football. God of the fucking blitz.

“Whose house is this?” he screamed, blood pumping like a busted pipe. All around him, the crowd, drunk on victory, on the utter pride of their win, cheered Kona on.

“Devils!” The roar of the crowd and their loud chant only made Kona’s blood flow faster, his heart pump wilder.

“You’re damn right!”

He felt like he could wrestle an alligator and that whiny, scaly bitch would be crying for his mama inside of a minute. “Shots!” He climbed onto the chair, arms up over his head as Brian tried to tug him down by his jeans. “Bring me shots!”

Tonight Lucy’s was his kingdom and around him, the crowd of fans, most of them girls climbing over each other to sit with the players at Kona’s side, were his court. Eager, healthy, gorgeous women who wanted them all; drink-buying, back-slapping dudes who wanted to be them. Life was good and through the fog of adrenaline and beer and whatever the hell that purple shit was he’d just downed, Kona couldn’t remember why he’d been in such a bad mood at practice the day before.

The revelry and that win was what he needed.

He jumped down off the chair when the shot girl came toward their table, weighed down with a tray of dark liquid that had Kona’s mouth watering.

“Fuckin right!” he said, shoving the empty beer bottles onto the floor before he patted the table. “Right here, sweetheart.”

“Kona, dude, watch it,” Brian said, scooting his chair back, away from the mess Kona made. “Seriously man, slow down.”

A sudden wave of anger hit him in his chest. He didn’t need a babysitter. He didn’t need Brian treating him like a kid. “Fuck you, brah.” He slammed back two shots of Jagger, chasing one with the next before he banged the small shot glass onto the table. “I’m just getting started, motherfucker. Either keep up or fuck off.”

“I think he’s questioning your manhood, dude.” Kona laughed at Nathan’s jab, then laughed harder when Brian got pissed at them both and walked away from the table.

Kona cheered Nathan on when he downed a shot, then beat his fist on the table when Chris Willis followed them. He couldn’t make the smile leave his face as each of his fellow teammates guzzled the shots, one right after the other, each taking a turn, the drinking going faster, racing as the crowd around them cheered them on.

When Ryan Fleming, that stupid punk threatening his spot on the line, took the last shot and choked, coughing like a punk, Kona stood up, punching the air as though their fast downing of the hard liquor was a race and he had pulled into the finish line first.

He loved this place. They came here after every game, made it their second home and preferred place of victory, which was often, and post-loss reflection, which wasn’t. Kona loved the glossy, miniature surf boards on the walls, the yellow tabletops, the red brick floor and the Christmas lights lining the bar. It had atmosphere, was homey, always smelled of pulled pork tacos and sweet pickles, but a sudden bout of dizziness hit Kona just then and even the crowd and the familiar sound of music and laughter couldn’t quite calm him or help to clear his swimming head. Swallowing, he pushed down the sensation, guzzled a glass of water and tried to regroup.

Kona didn’t care about the sweat on the back of his neck or how slick his skin felt. This was good, him with his teammates, the crowd celebrating with them. The only thing missing was Luka, but Kona figured he’d show up eventually.

“Hey baby, how ‘bout another one?” The pretty redhead from behind the bar moved her hips, swaying around the crowd until she was on Kona’s lap. “This one is on the house.” She pushed her chest toward Kona’s face and he smiled at the long glass tube resting in her cleavage.

There was only a moment’s pause, a brief flicker in his mind that told him he didn’t need another drink. His head was muddled with adrenaline, with victory and liquor already and something held him back, something that told him he didn’t want this girl jutting her tits at him. But then the crowd started in again and Nathan egged him on with “Dude, take it,” and Kona silenced that little whisper.

“What the hell,” he said, turning the redhead toward his mouth. A quick dip of his mouth against her warm skin that smelled like apples and his mouth covered the glass. He jerked his head back and the liquor slid down his throat, burning and sweet.

He felt the slaps on his back and heard the crowd roaring, happy that he’d taken the tarty offer, but something in Kona’s chest bunched up tight, something hard and searing that made him feel like an asshole.

“I’ve got somewhere else you can put those lips, baby.” The redhead kissed the shell of his ear and Kona frowned. Keira’s face shifted back into his foggy mind and he pushed the girl off his lap, shoving her aside.

“I’m not interested,” he told her, the adrenaline cooling in his veins, sobering him slightly.

The barmaid shuffled away from the table in a huff but Kona didn’t care, didn’t bother to apologize for being rude, didn’t even answer Nathan when he asked him why he made the redhead leave.

“I gotta take a piss,” he told Nathan, nodding to the few people that tried stopping him as he left the table. He felt the prickle of something familiar against his neck, that quiet whisper that had him hesitating earlier and as he made it to the bar, Kona looked to his right, squinted at Luka at the other end. His brother was talking to Brian and both shot a glare at him. He started to join them, moved around two girls who looked eager, happy that Kona was moving in their direction, but when Luka stepped back and Kona saw Keira holding a beer in her hand, when he caught the cool fire that licked anger and fury in her eyes, Kona stopped where he stood.

Had she seen his stupid scene with the redhead? Was that and his loud ass mouth why his brother was shooting venom at him with his expression? He considered both for a few seconds and then all thought left him as Keira whispered something in Luka’s ear, her hand laying lightly on his chest. His brother squeezed that hand, stood too close to her, held her attention for too long and Kona didn’t care if either of them was pissed off at him. He was going to find out what the hell they were doing there together and why his brother was touching his girl.

Kona pushed two guys out of his way with his shoulder as he hurried across the bar, ignoring their threats, careless about their protests. He wanted to get his hands around Luka’s neck, wanted to slug him again. The closer he got, the harder Keira stared at him and just before he met his brother in the middle of the bar, Keira turned away, guzzling on her bottle of beer as she headed toward the door.

“Brah, calm down,” Luka said, then his twin staggered back when Kona pushed his chest.

“What the fuck are you doing here with her?” Brian was behind him, trying to hold him off of his brother, but Kona deflected his arms easily.

Luka straightened, then grabbed Kona’s collar, his face hard. “She came here to talk to you, asshole, but then you had your mouth all over that redhead’s tits.”

He slapped Luka off him, still reeling from the image of his brother touching Keira. “You didn’t fucking answer me.”

Luka closed his eyes, rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I brought her here for you.”

“You… what?”

“Yeah, asshat, I talked her in to coming. I was trying to get her to give you another chance.” Luka straightened his shirt, took a swig of his beer. “You are such a fuck up, you know that, right?”

Kona glanced toward the door, catching the back of Keira’s head as she left. “I know, brah.” He looked back at his brother, scratching his fingers over his face. “I know what I am.” And then Kona ran after Keira.

Keira was going back to her dorm to finish that damn song. The hook would come, she knew it would, but as she walked in front of the building, glancing once at the huge, vertical letters spelling “Lucy’s” against the chipping white paint, toward the parking lot, she tried to think of words that rhymed with “asshole” and “wayward dick.” Those were words she intended to include in her song. She decided then she’d call it “Kona Hale is a Useless Whore of a Boy.” It wasn’t a catchy title, but it damn well would make her feel better.

Maybe.

She dug in her pocket, searching for her keys as she took another swig of her beer, not caring that her fingers were freezing against the cold wind that blew through the alley and the frigid bottle in her hand. She wanted to drink, something she usually didn’t even think about. She wanted to be drunk and she thought of who on campus could score some liquor for her. That was her last thought—names of her dorm mates who had fake I.D.s or at least an old enough boyfriend—before the pound of feet behind her had her twisting around.

“You really need to go back inside.”

Kona didn’t even slow as he caught up to her. “Wildcat—” she pushed him, shutting him up with a shove.

“Do not even try it. Walk away.”

“Would you let me explain?”

She laughed at him, disgusted at herself, at him, at the useless hope that she held onto as she followed Luka through the city toward Lucy’s. Once again Kona had proved he would never change.

“There’s nothing to explain, Kona. You doing what you always do isn’t a surprise to anyone.” He looked like she’d slapped him and she was glad, for three full seconds, that she’d stung him. Then Kona’s face screwed up into something like a frown, it could have been a scowl. Keira planned to not stick around to find out. She gave him her back, made a double effort to find her keys in her deep pockets and was nearly to her Pontiac when Kona’s shout rang out behind.

“I don’t fucking want anyone but you!”

Did he think she was stupid? Did he honestly think what she’d seen him doing tonight could be explained?

She turned around, bottle still in hand. She wanted so badly to slap him. Her fingers itched to do it, but then Kona moved quick, coming in front of her like a man ready to plead for his life with the executioner.

“I know what you saw. I know what it looked like, but Keira, my head isn’t on right tonight. I’m…” he growled, hands shaking as he turned away from her and kicked the plastic trashcan against the brick wall. Bending to catch his breath, Kona looked like he might vomit.

“You’re not capable, Kona.” She took a step, her voice softer, but her anger saturated that calm tone. “I’m not an idiot. I see how your eyes wander. I see the attention you get. And that’s fine.”

Kona stood up then, gaze whipping to her like he knew a threat was coming. Keira ignored that look, ignored how straight he held himself, how he stood with his feet apart ready for an attack. “What do you mean, ‘that’s fine’?” He managed a smile that was both hopeful and suspicious.