her hand. “And tragic. I can’t believe you’d ever think he’d love someone like you.” Her face twists with disgust. “That godawful hair. Seriously, who puts green in their hair? And those clothes,” she shudders, “so gross.”
“I’m not in love with Kyler,” I argue, breathing in and out, trying to fight back the waterworks. “So, none of what you’re saying matters.”
Let her words roll right off you. She’s not a good person.
“You’re such a bad liar. Always have been.” She turns her back on me and strolls toward the door, her four-inch heels clicking against the sidewalk. “And for the record, Kyler’s an amazing kisser.” She giggles to herself before going inside and shutting the door.
I ball my hands into fists. “One of these days, I swear to God I’m going to . . .” I trail off as I feel someone watching me.
I glance over at the Meyers’ house then internally cringe. Kai is sitting on the back porch, staring at me. He’s wearing a pair of black board shorts, his hair looks damp, and those intense eyes of his are practically boring a hole into my head.
Shit. Did he just hear all of mine and Hannah’s conversation? Fuck it. Does it really matter? I’m sure Hannah’s already pretty much told Kyler I’m obsessed with him.
“You’re going to what?” Kai ask with his head cocked.
“Huh?” My stomach flips with my nerves. If he does know I like Kyler, he’s never going to let me live it down. Because that’s what Kai has been doing for the last six months, teasing me whenever he sees a good opportunity.
His lips quirk, like he’s fighting back a laugh. “I was just wondering what you were going to do to your sister.” He nods his head at the door. “You never finished your thought, and I’m really curious what your twisted mind was going to come up with this time.”
My lip curls, because I’m not sure if he’s teasing me or being serious. I never do with him. “I didn’t finish my thought, because I was trying to make it really good. Like sickly morbid and full of torture. But thanks for ruining my train of thought.”
He chuckles. “I’m going to miss this.”
My brows drip. “Miss what?”
He raises his head, grinning, and for some reason that only pisses me off more. “Our lovely little chats.”
I stare at him, unimpressed. “Is that what you call torturing the nerdy next door neighbor?”
He presses his hand to his chest. “I’ve never tortured you. That’s your sister’s thing. Not mine. I’ve always been nice to you.”
A disdainful laugh escapes my mouth. “Like the time you told me the stripes in my hair made me look like a rainbow?”
“Hey, rainbows are cool.” He seems totally amused and has his smoldering let-me-bind-you-in-place gaze going on.
It’s driving me absolutely crazy, and I become desperate to win our little argument. “Okay, how about the time you ate my science fair project?”
“Hey, who puts chocolate on their science fair project?” He gapes at me. “Seriously, that was your own damn fault.”
Okay, he has a point. The Chocolate Volcano Project was kind of a disaster.
“How’d you know I’m leaving?” I change the subject, wandering toward the fence.
“You mean besides the suitcases you just loaded up in the back of the SUV?” he questions, cocking his brow. But underneath the surface, he abruptly grows uneasy, fiddling with the leather bands on his wrists.
“You heard it from someone.” I eye him over with suspicion. “I can tell, because you got all squiggly.”
He rolls his eyes, like I’m being ridiculous, but then surrenders. “Fine, your sister’s been telling everyone.”
“That I’m leaving?” My brows knit. “Why would she do that?”
He scratches at the back of his neck, looking everywhere but at me. “Um . . . well . . . she’s been telling everyone that you’re being admitted to a mental institution, but I know that’s not true.”
Invisible pins stab at my skin. I don’t want to hate my sister . . . I really don’t . . . but I kinda hate her right now.
“Why’d she say I was going?” My voice sounds so hollow.
“That doesn’t matter.” He rises to his feet, steps off the porch, and strides over to the fence. “Where are you going, though?”
“Overseas with my grandma, which probably sounds lame, but I’m actually looking forward to it.”
“It doesn’t sound lame at all.”
“Not even the going-with-the-grandma part?”
He shakes his head, waving me off. “Nah, grandmas can be cool sometimes. Is yours?”
“She’s like the