09
1259 Words
CHAPTER NINE
The First Time
By lunchtime, I decide I’m done being haunted by my own life.
Not because I’m okay.
Not because I believe any of this.
But because confusion is exhausting.
There are only so many emotional discoveries a person can have before their brain starts filing things under revisit later.
So after breakfast, after awkward coffee, after Lucas explained in great detail why dinosaurs would absolutely survive a zombie apocalypse, I find Kit outside.
He’s in the backyard.
The garden I saw yesterday looks less suspicious in daylight.
Still aggressively healthy.
The oak tree stands in the center with white stones around it.
Kit is kneeling near one of the planters.
Pulling weeds.
Which feels rude.
A man with secrets should not be allowed to look this normal.
I stand on the porch.
He looks up immediately.
Always immediately.
His expression shifts.
Like he’s surprised to see me.
Then he says—
“You okay?”
I narrow my eyes.
“You ask that a lot.”
His hand stills.
Then he looks back at the planter.
“Oh.”
I regret saying it instantly.
Not because it was mean.
Because he suddenly looks careful again.
I walk down the steps.
Stop near him.
Look around.
“…You garden?”
He blinks.
Then—
“No.”
I stare.
He gestures.
“You do.”
Pause.
“This is mostly your fault.”
Excuse me.
I look at the plants.
Tomatoes.
Herbs.
Flowers.
Everything looks annoyingly alive.
I cross my arms.
“This feels fake.”
He nods.
Fair.
Then says—
“You said plants were lower maintenance than emotions.”
I close my eyes.
That is absolutely something I would say.
I sit on the edge of the stone border.
He goes back to pulling weeds.
For a while neither of us talks.
The silence isn’t awkward.
Which is becoming a problem.
Eventually—
I say—
“Tell me something.”
He looks over.
I pick at a loose thread on my sleeve.
“How did we happen?”
He looks away immediately.
Not avoiding.
Thinking.
I sigh.
“Not the official version.”
His eyebrows lift.
I shrug.
“Not videos.”
Not calendars.
Not memory folders.
I look at him.
“I want your version.”
His expression changes.
Small.
Like that request means more than it should.
He brushes dirt from his hands.
Then says—
“…You want the truth?”
I frown.
“Why would I want the fake version?”
One side of his mouth moves.
Then—
“The truth isn’t romantic.”
Good.
I’m suspicious of romance.
He looks out at the yard.
Then starts.
“The first time I met you…”
He pauses.
“…you ignored me.”
Rude.
I object immediately.
“No.”
He nods.
“Yes.”
I stare.
He shrugs.
“Della introduced us.”
His voice goes flatter.
“You shook my hand.”
Pause.
“You said hello.”
Pause.
“Then asked Neil if he wanted to leave.”
My mouth opens.
No.
His mouth moves slightly.
“You thought I was boring.”
I cover my face.
“No.”
He nods.
“You called me a human spreadsheet.”
I stare.
He glances over.
“You thought I didn’t hear.”
I sink lower.
He goes back to the weeds.
I mutter—
“That’s devastating.”
His shoulders move slightly.
Like he’s trying not to laugh.
Interesting.
I point.
“Keep talking.”
He nods.
“For a while…”
His eyes move toward the tree.
“…that was it.”
I wait.
He continues.
“You and Neil.”
Pause.
“Me and Della.”
Pause.
“Group things.”
His expression stays calm.
Then—
“You were loud.”
Excuse me.
He continues.
“You always had opinions.”
Okay.
“You argued with strangers.”
Absolutely not.
His eyes move to me.
“You argued with a waiter once because they forgot Della’s order.”
I look away.
Fine.
He says—
“You remembered details.”
Pause.
“You checked if everyone got home.”
Pause.
“You texted people after bad days.”
His voice softens.
“You made people feel noticed.”
Something uncomfortable moves in my chest.
I shrug.
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
His eyes stay on mine.
Then—
“It meant things.”
I look away.
He looks back at the garden.
Then says—
“One day your car broke down.”
Right.
The parking lot.
His expression shifts.
Different now.
Less careful.
More remembered.
“You called.”
Pause.
“I thought it was an accident.”
I blink.
“What?”
He shrugs.
“You never called me.”
My stomach does something weird.
He continues.
“You asked where I was.”
Pause.
“Then said your car died.”
Pause.
“Then said don’t tell Neil because he’d make fun of you.”
My mouth drops open.
I would never—
Actually.
Maybe.
Kit looks down.
Then says—
“I came.”
Pause.
“You were annoyed.”
I stare.
“What?”
His mouth almost smiles.
“You thought I’d fix it.”
I blink.
“…Could you?”
He looks at me.
Long enough.
Then—
“No.”
That gets me.
I laugh.
Actually laugh.
His eyes flick toward me.
Then away.
He continues.
“So we waited.”
Pause.
“Tow truck was late.”
Pause.
“It rained.”
His expression softens.
Then—
“You complained.”
Excuse me.
“You stole my hoodie.”
I stare.
His eyes stay on the garden.
Then—
“And we talked.”
I wait.
His voice gets quieter.
“You asked me if I liked Della.”
I blink.
He nods.
“I said yes.”
Pause.
“You said she was lucky.”
Something shifts.
Tiny.
I don’t know why.
His expression doesn’t change.
Then—
“You asked if I thought soulmates existed.”
My eyebrows rise.
That sounds random.
He shrugs.
“You do that.”
Fair.
I wait.
His voice lowers.
“I said no.”
Pause.
“You said good.”
He pulls another weed.
Then—
“You said if soulmates were real…”
His eyes lift to mine.
“…then choosing people wouldn’t matter.”
Something in my chest catches.
His voice stays soft.
“And then…”
He looks away.
“…you asked me if I thought people could become family by accident.”
Silence.
The wind moves through the trees.
I stare.
He shrugs.
Then—
“You fell asleep.”
I blink.
“What?”
He nods.
“Tow truck came.”
Pause.
“You were asleep.”
Pause.
His mouth shifts.
“So I drove your car.”
I stare.
He adds—
“You snore.”
I gasp.
He finally laughs.
Actually laughs.
And it changes his whole face.
Not prettier.
Not dramatic.
Just—
lighter.
Younger.
Like someone opened a window.
I stare too long.
His laugh fades.
His eyes meet mine.
We both look away.
Immediately.
I clear my throat.
“…That’s it?”
He looks back at the garden.
Then quietly—
“No.”
I blink.
He brushes dirt from his hands.
Then says—
“That’s just the first time I noticed I wanted to keep talking to you.”
And annoyingly—
for the first time—
I understand exactly what he means.
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