Read Online Because of Kian by Sibylla Matilde - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Sibylla Matilde
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whispered with a raspy voice.
“Jesus Christ, you look like hell. Are you okay?” The words once again left my mouth before I could stop them. Fuck. Not so smooth.
The flicker of wonder in her eyes quickly switched to annoyance at my blundered outburst. “Fuck you,” she responded in a defeated tone and turned back into her living room, back to her couch .
I felt a trickle of relief at her caustic reply. At least she wasn’t on death’s door if she could still cock one off at me like that .
Looking around, her small apartment seemed rather bare, almost unlived in. No photos, no girly decorations like flowers and candles and little bowls of shit that smelled like berries. Not at all what I’d pictured her place to look like. It had all the personality of a mid-rate hotel room, unless you took into account the coffee table that was littered with Kleenex and cough drops.
She flopped onto the overstuffed couch, pulling a soft chenille blanket over her. As she settled against a ruffled purple bed pillow, her feverish eyes narrowed at me. “So what’s up?” she asked hoarsely.
“I stopped to see you at work and you weren’t there. I got worried.”
“I just took a sick day.”
“That lady you work for said you’ve been out all week.”
“Um, okay… so I took a couple sick days. It’s only Thursday. I have a shitty cold and I didn’t want to share it. So what?” A confused look crossed over her face before she spoke again. “Wait a minute, how did you know where I live.”
“Sage,” I admitted. “I was worried about you. It’s just, the last time you disappeared was when, well… Evan…” I trailed off.
Her expression softened a bit and she raised her head. Apparently, she was beginning to realize that I wasn’t just being overly protective. Excessively stalkerish, maybe. But, she seemed to realize that I was genuinely concerned. She looked down a little before she softly spoke. “Not Evan,” she reassured me. “Just a cold. Fever and chills. I didn’t get the shit beat out of me. No worries.”
I slumped into the recliner across from her couch, then leaned forward some to look at her sternly. “Well, now I’m worried for a whole new reason.” I noted an empty glass on the coffee table alongside a dirty bowl and spoon. “Do you need anything? Something to drink or eat?”
“No, I’m okay,” she reassured me weakly, sinking back into the pillow. “ And you probably shouldn’t be here. I don’t want to make you sick.”
“Fuck that. Let me get you something. What were you drinking? Juice?” She knitted her brow and looked off to the side for a moment before casting her gaze back to meet mine. I regarded her suspiciously. “What is it?”
She pursed her lips before answering. Funny how, even obviously sick, she was awfully fucking cute. “Nothing, I’m just trying to figure out how to answer without you feeling like you need to do something about it.”
“Chances are, I’m gonna do something no matter what you say, so you may as well just tell me.”
“I’m out of juice. I need to run to the store and was just trying to get the energy up to do it.”
“I’ll do it.”
“Kian, I don’t need you to—”
“Brynn,” I simply said, firmly and authoritatively, essentially ending the argument with a stern look in her direction . Her mouth snapped shut as I stood and headed for the door. “Is there anything else you need?” I asked, fishing my bike keys out of my pocket.
Behind me I heard a raspy argument start up again. “I can just run later.”
I glanced back at her momentarily before looking around the small apartment. Off to the side was a small alcove, what looked to be a little galley kitchen.
A messy galley kitchen.
I knew enough about Brynn to know that she wasn’t really a messy person. She folded the clothes in her gym bag and kept her shoes in a Ziploc bag, for Christ’s sake. So she must have really felt like shit to leave this sink full of pans
“Jesus Christ, you look like hell. Are you okay?” The words once again left my mouth before I could stop them. Fuck. Not so smooth.
The flicker of wonder in her eyes quickly switched to annoyance at my blundered outburst. “Fuck you,” she responded in a defeated tone and turned back into her living room, back to her couch .
I felt a trickle of relief at her caustic reply. At least she wasn’t on death’s door if she could still cock one off at me like that .
Looking around, her small apartment seemed rather bare, almost unlived in. No photos, no girly decorations like flowers and candles and little bowls of shit that smelled like berries. Not at all what I’d pictured her place to look like. It had all the personality of a mid-rate hotel room, unless you took into account the coffee table that was littered with Kleenex and cough drops.
She flopped onto the overstuffed couch, pulling a soft chenille blanket over her. As she settled against a ruffled purple bed pillow, her feverish eyes narrowed at me. “So what’s up?” she asked hoarsely.
“I stopped to see you at work and you weren’t there. I got worried.”
“I just took a sick day.”
“That lady you work for said you’ve been out all week.”
“Um, okay… so I took a couple sick days. It’s only Thursday. I have a shitty cold and I didn’t want to share it. So what?” A confused look crossed over her face before she spoke again. “Wait a minute, how did you know where I live.”
“Sage,” I admitted. “I was worried about you. It’s just, the last time you disappeared was when, well… Evan…” I trailed off.
Her expression softened a bit and she raised her head. Apparently, she was beginning to realize that I wasn’t just being overly protective. Excessively stalkerish, maybe. But, she seemed to realize that I was genuinely concerned. She looked down a little before she softly spoke. “Not Evan,” she reassured me. “Just a cold. Fever and chills. I didn’t get the shit beat out of me. No worries.”
I slumped into the recliner across from her couch, then leaned forward some to look at her sternly. “Well, now I’m worried for a whole new reason.” I noted an empty glass on the coffee table alongside a dirty bowl and spoon. “Do you need anything? Something to drink or eat?”
“No, I’m okay,” she reassured me weakly, sinking back into the pillow. “ And you probably shouldn’t be here. I don’t want to make you sick.”
“Fuck that. Let me get you something. What were you drinking? Juice?” She knitted her brow and looked off to the side for a moment before casting her gaze back to meet mine. I regarded her suspiciously. “What is it?”
She pursed her lips before answering. Funny how, even obviously sick, she was awfully fucking cute. “Nothing, I’m just trying to figure out how to answer without you feeling like you need to do something about it.”
“Chances are, I’m gonna do something no matter what you say, so you may as well just tell me.”
“I’m out of juice. I need to run to the store and was just trying to get the energy up to do it.”
“I’ll do it.”
“Kian, I don’t need you to—”
“Brynn,” I simply said, firmly and authoritatively, essentially ending the argument with a stern look in her direction . Her mouth snapped shut as I stood and headed for the door. “Is there anything else you need?” I asked, fishing my bike keys out of my pocket.
Behind me I heard a raspy argument start up again. “I can just run later.”
I glanced back at her momentarily before looking around the small apartment. Off to the side was a small alcove, what looked to be a little galley kitchen.
A messy galley kitchen.
I knew enough about Brynn to know that she wasn’t really a messy person. She folded the clothes in her gym bag and kept her shoes in a Ziploc bag, for Christ’s sake. So she must have really felt like shit to leave this sink full of pans
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