Just A Little Bit ✔️

16. Riley

Riley Jameson, In Real Life

Kinley goes onstage angry.

I don't think you'd know it from the crowd. She hides it well with a grin. When she came to soundcheck, she looked like she'd spent the whole night crying. With her bloodshot eyes and puffy face, she was walking around with heartbreak written on her. I wanted to say something, but she never gave me the chance.

Now she's smiling, waving, grabbing her guitar.

"I normally don't do this," she begins, turning the knobs to tune it. "But I went to the socials for advice on what to play. You guys really wanted me to cover some Faraway Blues songs, which I thought was funny. Aren't you tired of them?"

A resounding boo erupts from the group, and she giggles.

"Well, if that's how you feel, I guess I have to break out an underground track."

A lot of our demos are on YouTube, hanging out in various pockets of the site for people to listen to. I know what she's going to pick before she does. It's one of our most popular "secret" songs.

I practically screamed every word when we recorded it. Pure frustration. Anguish.

It's called Fuck Yourself, and that ought to tell you everything you need to know about it.

I definitely get the message.

Watching her sing my songs, no matter the theme, no matter how mad she is, is enthralling. I know people cover them all the time, but this is different. This is Kinley.

I'm still hungover, and each word that comes out of her mouth reminds me that everything I do comes with a price. There are consequences to breaking the heart of a woman I would promise the entire universe if I could.

I don't know the best way to apologize. I wish I did. I wish I knew the right words because I would say them to her in a heartbeat. I would say anything I had to and I swear I'd mean it.

🎵🎵🎵

After the show and our return to our hotel for the night, I make it my mission to talk to her. Sober, this time. Not through texts or social media. I want to have an actual conversation like mature adults instead of pining on Twitter or swallowing her angry words.

I find her on the rooftop. The roof, of all the places she could be.

It was a guess. I honestly had no idea if she was just holed up in her room pretending she couldn't hear me knocking. I knew that once, after we'd finished having sex, she was curled up with her bare skin against mine confessing.

She told me she liked to look at the stars when she was away from home because they were always the same no matter where she traveled. I thought that was beautiful. It was something I committed to memory, and that's why I knew where to look.

She's sitting near the edge with her knees pressed to her chest. She's wearing a black t-shirt and the tiniest pair of shorts I've ever seen. At second glance, I realize it's my shirt she has on, and it makes me pause for a second.

She doesn't even look at me when she speaks. "Go away."

"How'd you know it was me?" I ask.

"Your footsteps," she answers ambiguously. "I know what they sound like."

She knows what my steps sound like.

I know what her breath sounds like when she's nervous, or excited, or calm. I know she bites her lip when we stop kissing, eyes searching as she takes a second to breathe. I've memorized the way she walks too, and I always know who it is before she announces her arrival into a room. I guess I never reckoned she did the same for me.

But she does. I guess Kinley Price is full of surprises.

"Are you gonna let me apologize, or am I gonna stand here like an idiot?"

She purses her lips. "You did say sorry. You said it a lot actually."

"I meant it."

"I know." She says it so lifelessly, but she still takes my breath away.

I take a few steps forward until I'm right in front of her. "Kinley, you know how I feel about you, right?"

"I do," she confirms.

"So why are you avoiding me? Why are you telling me to fuck myself instead of trying to have a conversation? I do care about you, and I do want us to be more. I was drunk yesterday, and that's not a justification, but it's a reason. I want you to know that I didn't set out to fuck everything up."

"Then what was your plan?" she interjects. "Since it was clearly so well thought out."

I tear a hand through my hair. "I wanted to pretend I wasn't in love with you."

She gapes at me. Her mouth opens and shuts like that of a puppet as she struggles to find a response. I can't believe the words flew out of my mouth, but they did, and she heard them, and holy fucking shit, she knows.

"You can't," she says sharply. "You can't possibly be in love with me."

"How do you know that?"

"Because it's impossible," she blurts. "We've only known each other for a few months and for most of it I hated you. I was so cruel, and I made it clear that all we were doing was having sex. That was it, Riley. That was the line, and it stopped with sex. All we were going to do was hook up and you sure as hell weren't supposed to look at me as anything more than a body to keep your bed warm."

This wasn't how I thought this would go. "Tell me how you really feel."

"I was just a toy because you were bored. That's all I am. I'm your placeholder girl because Holly Henley broke your heart and you needed someone to fill the void. That's it. You need an adrenaline rush. That's how you function. You just need your next big thing to keep you entertained."

I feel like she slapped me. She might as well have struck me across the face because I flinch when she tells me that. It's so blatantly insulting, but it doesn't surprise me. Of course, she would think that's how I viewed her. She says she doesn't read the tabloids, but my reputation precedes me all the same.

"That's what you think of me?" I whisper hoarsely.

She looks down, ashamed. "Well, yeah."

My tone sharpens. "I can't be in love with you because I'm a shallow playboy. That's your explanation?"

"You don't know me," she says, dodging me. "Be honest with yourself. You think you really know me?"

"I know enough to love you," I tell her, exasperated. "God. This is not how I wanted you to react. I was expecting you to... I don't know. I just wanted you to know that I loved you and have you say something except that I can't. I know how I feel."

She stares at me. She just stares, and it's like her eyes go right through me. I'd give anything to know what's happening in her head, but she remains a mystery to me.

***

fun fact: the first scene i wrote when i envisioned kinley and riley as characters was his confession. he loves her!!! what's she gonna say?? idk!!

dun dun dun 

guess we gotta wait

signing off,

mads