The Truth About Kian

25. Oh who would ever want to be king?

"Mr. Sinclair!" I hollered, flinging myself out of Shenanigans before I realized that he was standing just outside the doors.

"Yes?" he asked, beaming at me.

I nodded. "Thank you!"

He saluted me, climbing into his sleek black Audi. "See you in a few weeks, Miss Elliot."

I watched him drive away before going to go collect the bag I'd left at my table. As I was packing up Colton's paper, a shadow fell over the Castor Gazette.

"What's this?" Laura asked, examining the paper.

I glanced down at my shoes, unable to look her in the eye. "Mr. Sinclair offered me an internship at one of his papers."

"Liam's dad?" Her eyes — Kian's eyes — met mine. "What did you do to get it?"

The question was innocent enough, but the way that she looked at me — accusingly, like she thought I'd done something dirty to edge myself into the Sinclair family's good graces — made me gnash my teeth.

"I wrote good stories," I snapped, snatching the newspaper out of her hands and stuffing it in my bag. "Is there something you needed?"

"I'm leaving today." She drew herself up stiffly. "So I came to say goodbye."

I gnawed on my lip. A part of me — the part that still wanted Laura's love and approval — was sad to see her go, but the bitterer part of me couldn't forget how she'd made it clear that I was about as useful as a pebble in her shoe. "Goodbye."

She frowned, something that resembled sadness colouring her voice. "You know that I love you, Reed."

I shook my head. "I don't, actually."

Exasperation flitted across her face, and she ran her fingers through the ends of her hair. It was knotted, and it looked like she hadn't picked up a brush for the past few days. "I don't know what I can do to convince you that I do."

"You could stay. But we both know that you won't."

Laura sucked on the inside of her cheek, contorting her face into something lopsided, and defining her left cheekbone. "I can't. I can't."

"I get it. Doesn't mean I'm okay with it, but I get it." I lifted my chin. "Good luck."

She nodded, not even fighting my abrupt dismissal. Laura wanted to leave, and nothing in Scire — not me, not my dad — was going to keep her where she didn't want to be.

Laura hesitated, like there was something else she wanted to say, but then she nodded and walked away, the scent of coconut shampoo and sunscreen lingering long after she had left.

***

Jules was stretched out on his porch with music blasting from his phone when I reached his house. I could hear Enna screaming from the backyard and Shar's annoyed voice as he yelled at her to be quiet.

I tapped Jules' shoulder, and he jumped. "Jesus, Reed! I didn't hear you."

"Obviously," I said, stretching out beside him. Closing my eyes, I let myself relax, almost lulled to sleep by Jules' steady breathing. "Mr. Sinclair offered me an internship. I took it."

"Good." He propped himself up on one elbow. "You deserve it."

But did I? I hadn't even finished Kian's feature. What kind of journalist let herself get so stumped that she couldn't even finish a story?