Kyland

by Mia Sheridan

  I walked in quietly and as I got closer, I saw it was Kyland. Stupid Kyland. I couldn't mistake that broad back and the caramel-brown hair curling up at his neck. It looked like he was returning a book to the shelf. I cleared my throat and he whirled around, the book still in his hands. My eyes moved from his surprised expression down to the title he was holding, The Weaver of Raveloe.

  I leaned my hip against one of the shelves and crossed my arms over my layered sweaters, a feeling of satisfaction moving through my body as I took him in. Well, well.

  Kyland narrowed his eyes at me and leaned back against the shelf behind him, sucking at his bottom lip. We stood there staring at each other for a minute in some kind of strange standoff, despite the fact that I was the only one who should be bitter here. "A little girl. That's what he found that winter night. Abandoned in the snow," he said.

  I nodded slowly, my eyes moving over his face and hair, so carelessly handsome. Our eyes locked. "She gave his life meaning. She made him feel alive in a way he never had before."

  He continued to stare at me. "Then he lost all the gold he'd earned after he exiled himself."

  I shrugged. "Yes, and it didn't matter. He didn't care about it once he found Eppie. She ended up being his greatest fortune. She ended up giving purpose to his lonely life."

  Something shifted behind Kyland's eyes. He turned around slowly and returned the book to its place. He must have checked it out the week before—after we'd talked and after I'd returned it. He turned toward me.

  "Are you going to check out another one?" I asked.

  He shook his head. "No." It came out clipped and certain.

  I walked toward him to return the one I'd finished reading, The Bluest Eye. I leaned toward Kyland to put the book back in its place. He didn't move to accommodate my closeness.

  I cleared my throat. "Well, if you set out to prove to me you're not the illiterate hillbilly I pegged you for, you—"

  "Tenleigh." My eyes flew to his at the raspy sound of his voice. I stopped speaking.

  There was something hard and resolute in Kyland's expression. The air was thick with tension. We both stood silently, Kyland's jaw clenching. He moved even closer to me and my heart started beating wildly, my breath coming out raggedly. Dear God, he was beautiful and I could smell his skin, clean and masculine with the slight hint of salt. I wanted to open my mouth and breathe in the air around us so I could taste him on my tongue. My tummy flipped and my eyes fluttered for a brief second. He continued to stare, seeming to note my body language and he looked . . . angry? Intense. I stood taller and lifted my chin. I didn't understand what was happening, but I wasn't backing down from this, whatever this was.

  Kyland moved in close to my body until his face was right above mine. I looked up at him, blood pumping furiously through my body. "I'm going to leave here, Tenleigh. Nothing is going to stop me. Not you, not anything. Not anyone. Do you hear me?" His voice sounded strained, and his eyes were heated and angry.

  My breath came out of my mouth in sharp pants as I attempted to get hold of my racing heart. I didn't need him to stay here. I didn't need him to feel indebted to me for any reason. But I did need him to kiss me. Right that very second. I moved my eyes to his lips and let out another harsh whoosh of air. Kyland made a strangled, groaning sound in his throat and moved his lips right up against mine. "I'm leaving this place behind when I go. Everything about this place. Even you."

  Well why wouldn't he? I'm nothing to him.

  "Okay," I gasped. He paused for one brief second, his eyes flaring, and then his lips crashed down on mine. He took my face in his hands, his fingers weaving through my hair and his tongue pushing into my mouth. My whole body felt like it would combust as I brought my arms around his neck and pressed myself into his hard form, melting into him. He groaned, a tortured sound, and tilted my head with his hands as his tongue plunged more deeply into my mouth. I moaned back, my tongue dancing with his, playing, tasting. I broke from his mouth, gasping in air as he nipped and kissed up my throat. "Yes, oh God, Kyland, don't stop," I begged. And if he would have laid me down on the floor right there and made love to me, I would have let him. I was very close to begging him to do just that. Blood pumped furiously between my legs causing a pounding drumbeat of need. My breasts felt heavy and achy.

  His lips returned to mine and he plunged his tongue in and out of my mouth as if he were starving for me. And I loved it. I wanted the kiss to go on and on. I never, ever wanted it to end.

  Suddenly, Kyland pulled away from me and stepped back, breathing harshly, looking dazed and somehow still angry, the evidence of his own arousal tenting his jeans. "Holy fuck, Tenleigh. What are you doing?"

  My blood ran cold as suddenly as it had heated only moments ago, my eyes widening as I stared incredulously at him. "What . . . what am I doing?"

  And just like that, Kyland turned and walked out of the Dennville Public Library, leaving me alone and confused, my lips and my heart bruised.

  I had let him do it to me again! What was wrong with him? What was wrong with me? I leaned my body back against the bookshelf behind me and vowed never again to let Kyland Barrett humiliate me. He wasn't the only one with plans to leave here. Why did he even have to register on my radar? God, I hated him.

  **********

  I had a sneaking suspicion you probably weren't supposed to think about someone you hated all day and all night.

  Damn.

  But I did make it a point to avoid Kyland Barrett the entire next week. Once I saw him at the end of a hallway in school and I made a sudden turn so I didn't have to pass him, and another time I glanced out the window of one of my classrooms and saw him outside walking with Shelly Galvin. I quickly looked away, jealousy filling my chest, making me feel angry and brittle, my heart aching. He hadn't seemed to have a problem kissing her.

  Again, this was why it was my plan to avoid men around these parts—they were either entitled users, or backwoods losers. For a brief moment, I had thought Kyland was different, but he wasn't. He had purposely humiliated me, knowing I was attracted to him. Well, never again. Apparently there were plenty of girls happy to have him play with them around here. He wouldn't die of loneliness anytime soon. I had seen proof of that. I sat chewing on my pencil, unable to get him off my mind, though. Damn—I had liked him. I had allowed myself to think about him as I lay on the small couch in our trailer, drifting off to sleep. I had dreamed of him looking into my eyes the way he had as we sat looking out at the sunset. I had dreamed of him touching me, kissing me, even loving me. I had dreamed of seeing him with his shirt off, my fingers trailing down his warm, suntanned skin . . . Even though my mind had warned me to stop dreaming, the very thought of it had sent a current of electricity straight to my heart. Stop, Tenleigh. Just stop, foolish girl. Stupid, foolish girl.

  Plan Swear Off Men: officially reinstated.

  After school, I went to the library so I wouldn't encounter Kyland walking up the hill to his home. I knew he wouldn't be checking out any more books. I was safe—and I liked it there. It was like my own personal office. I could sit at the small table in the back, spread my homework out, and have all the privacy I needed. No one in this town was too interested in reading except for me. And it was a lot more comfortable than the small pullout table in our trailer, the one that squeaked every time I pressed down on it to write.

  My breath plumed in the early December air as I made my way quickly to the small building a quarter mile from home. I rushed inside, closing the door behind me, breathing in the slightly musty air. There wasn't any heat in here, but it was warmer than outside, and it'd certainly be a lot warmer than our drafty trailer. I spread my stuff out on the table in the back and got started on my homework. I lingered over my assignments, not wanting to leave, happy in my solitude.

  I needed a new book. I stood up to peruse them and noticed a small white piece of paper sticking out of The Bluest Eye, the book I'd returned right before Kyland kissed me. Recalling his kiss, I childi
shly made a disgusted sound aloud in the quiet room—just because it felt good—and then reached for the book. I pulled out the slip of paper, my heart skipping a beat when I saw tiny, slanted script:

  One of the bleakest books I've ever read, offering no hope whatsoever. Made me want to throw myself off the nearest cliff. – KB

  I paused, reading the line over again. KB. Kyland Barrett. Was he trying to be funny? My anger rose as I sat to write my reply:

  Only an ignorant hick would fail to see the true point of this novel, which is that we all have an internal dialogue that either keeps us trapped or sets us free. As far as a cliff, I'd suggest Dead Man's Bluff—the name alone is optimistic as far as your cause. In addition, it's the highest one in the area and offers lots of jagged rocks in the basin, practically guaranteeing your demise. – TF

  I smiled a small smile and stuck the paper back in the book, leaving it sticking out the top. Then I stood perusing the books I'd read, looking for the most depressing, disturbing one I could, finally pulling Brighton Rock off the shelf, leaving an obvious gap where it had sat.

  Two days later, I brought it back and three days after that, when I returned to the library, a note was sticking out of the top:

  An enjoyable read. I was especially impressed by the character, Pinkie. – KB

  I made a disgusted sound in my throat, quickly scrawling out:

  Only a truly disturbed person would be impressed by a villainous, sociopathic gang leader, who cruelly destroyed the beautiful, decent girl who loved him. What happened to Dead Man's Bluff? – TF

  Then I looked over the shelf, choosing a book that was not only depressing, but disgusting as well.

  Five days later, The Road:

  An exciting tale of the Apocalypse . . . survival . . . cannibalism . . . underground bunkers. A book every guy will devour! – KB

  I frowned.

  I see what you did there with the word "devour". You really are a sicko. – TF

  I went for gusto, choosing, arguably, the most depressing book ever written.

  Four days later, The Bell Jar:

  Nice try. I'm onto you. – KB

  I laughed out loud despite myself. And damn him, I had tried to hang onto my anger and now here I was smiling at his damn note. The smile faded slowly from my face. I perused the shelf for another book, some kind of melancholy gripping my lonely heart. I leaned back against the bookshelf biting my lip. I liked him. And what was the point? And why he was bothering to amuse himself with me, I didn't know. But I had seen what happened when a woman got hung up on a man who wasn't interested in her, and I wasn't going there. I was not. Better to leave things as they were. I wasn't going to encourage this game. It would only create hope, and when it came to Kyland, hope was not something I would entertain. I sighed and gathered up my stuff, leaving the library and lowering my head against the cold as I trudged up the mountain.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Kyland

  I went to the small library every morning for the next week, but there was never a note waiting for me. I tried to convince myself it didn't matter—it'd just been a fun distraction, and I'd actually enjoyed the books. They'd helped me pass several lonely nights. But the truth was, I was disappointed that Tenleigh, apparently, was done with our exchange. And I gathered, she might still be mad at me. I'd acted like an idiot kissing her. I brought my fingers to my lips as if some small part of her still remained there. God, she'd tasted so good, even better than I'd imagined. It had taken everything in me to pull away and I'd dreamed about that damn kiss every night since. I wasn't going to do it again, though. As much as I wanted to. I wasn't going to take something from her I could never give back . . . Tenleigh had had enough taken from her in this life. She didn't need me taking that purity away from her, too—I wasn't going to be responsible for giving her false hope and then leaving her high and dry when I left. She deserved better. And as for me, I didn't want any connection to Dennville, Kentucky. I wanted to leave and never, ever look back—in every sense. I didn't need to be forming any connections with dreamy-eyed girls who'd expect me to write them love letters from my college dorm. I planned to be kissing plenty of girls, now and after I left, but none of them would be Tenleigh Falyn. That's just the way it needed to be.

  I walked out of the library and shut the door tightly behind me.

  "Hey, Ky," I heard as I walked the road back home, my hands stuffed in my pockets. It was a bitterly cold morning, snow still on the ground from several recent snowfalls and I'd stupidly forgotten my gloves.

  I looked back and saw Shelly. "Hey," I said.

  She smiled and increased her speed to catch up to me, meeting me and looping her arm through mine. She squeezed me to her and said, "Brr! It's cold this morning."

  I nodded, wanting to shrug her off, but resisting. Shelly and I messed around when one or the other of us wanted to. It'd been going on since we were fifteen. I considered it casual, and I was mostly sure she did, too. Although she didn't seem to like it when she found out I'd been with someone else. Secretly, I hoped she'd find a boyfriend and move on even from our casual encounters. They were starting to bore me. But Shelly, like me, seemed to prefer casual. And Shelly met my other requirement, too: she didn't live up on the mountain—she was poor, but not the desperate kind of poor. Not poor like Tenleigh was poor. My chest squeezed and I gritted my teeth. I didn't need to worry about the survival of anyone other than myself.

  "Where are you headed?" I asked.

  She looked up at me through her lashes. "Well, I was headed to Rusty's for an ingredient my grandma forgot to buy for dinner. But . . ." she looked up at me flirtily, "no one will notice I'm gone if I don't get back for a little while."

  "I'm headed home, Shelly. My mama needs me," I lied.

  Her expression fell. "Well, all right, then. Hey, wanna come with me to the play at school later? They're performing, A Christmas Carol." She grinned. I knew Shelly liked to get out of her house whenever she could. She was stuffed in there with her dad and four brothers. Her mama had died when she was little. She described her home like it was a zoo, but truthfully, it didn't sound half bad to me—at least no one was ever lonely.

  "Is it Christmastime already?" I asked. I knew very well it was Christmastime. And I hated it. I had successfully avoided the major funk I usually found myself in this time of year with the reading and the little book club Tenleigh and I had going on, but now I'd have to deal with it.

  Tenleigh. Stop, Kyland. Stop thinking about Tenleigh.

  I put my arm around Shelly and pulled her closer to my body. She smiled up at me. "It's the twenty-fourth, Ky," she said. "Winter break started two days ago . . . did you not notice?"

  I sighed. "No. I noticed. I was just kidding." And truthfully, getting out of my house later didn't sound half bad, and they always offered food at intermission. Some of it might even be more than cookies or cupcakes. Last year, they'd had these little pigs in a blanket . . .

  "Yeah, all right, let's go see the play tonight. Sounds festive." We stopped in front of Rusty's.

  "Good! My brothers are going, too, so I'll meet you there." She squeezed me tighter. "And if you're free afterward . . ." She let that idea linger, letting go of me and blowing me a kiss as she walked away.

  **********

  I met Shelly outside the school, my boots soaked from walking through the snow. I stomped them off and brushed the snow out of my hair as Shelly grinned at me and pretended to shiver. "Brr!" she said, pulling her red wool coat around her. "Warm me up." She latched onto my arm and pressed herself into my body. Her strong vanilla fragrance filled my nostrils.

  We went inside the warm lobby, a large decorated tree in the middle of the open space. The school went all out for the Christmas play. Most likely, I thought, because many of the parents from Evansly, the ones who worked in the executive offices of the mine, would be there. As I looked around, I saw several of them, their thick winter coats and fur-trimmed boots and hats giving them away. Shelly took my hand an
d led me inside to some empty seats near the middle of the auditorium. There was a low buzz of voices—chatter and laughter—and the room was dim and warm. I was suddenly glad I'd trudged through the weather to come here. I looked forward to the refreshments that would be served during intermission—it'd been a rough month. Heating my house, at least enough to survive, became as much of a priority as eating. When I was younger, I used to chip coal off the highway embankment. But it was illegal, and a very public illegal act at that, and I didn't think it was worth the risk. I was so close to everything I'd worked for . . . so close. I followed Shelly, scooting past the people already seated in the row she'd chosen.

  We sat down, and Shelly removed her jacket and leaned back, letting out a sigh of comfort as she grabbed my hand. I looked over at her . . . and met Tenleigh's eyes sitting right next to Shelly. I jolted slightly, and couldn't help the smile that immediately took over my face. "Tenleigh," I said, leaning forward, and there was some sort of feeling of relief that moved through my chest as if I'd been waiting to see her for far too long. Had I? Tenleigh looked slightly stricken, but didn't say anything as her eyes moved from mine down to my lap where Shelly's and my hands were linked. I let go quickly as if I'd been caught doing something wrong and Shelly looked over at me, frowning. Then she looked next to her at Tenleigh and back to me, her frown growing. She grabbed my hand again just as the lights dimmed. I sat back, my heart beating more quickly. I felt uncomfortable, jittery, and I wasn't even sure exactly why. Tenleigh and I didn't have anything more than a friendship . . . if even that. And neither did Shelly and I, as a matter of fact. Although I'd certainly been more intimate with Shelly. So why did I feel as if I'd done something wrong to Tenleigh? Why did I suddenly feel guilty and distracted by her presence right next to us? Why did I suddenly feel the need to explain this to her?