Page 34 of Catching Kyle

He perks up. “So you are single?”

Anger flairs in my chest. “Yes, if that wasn’t so obvious,” I say with gritted teeth.

“I’m sorry,” he says, noticing my anger. “I didn’t mean to offend.”

I scoff. “So what? I have to have a boyfriend to write be a successful writer?” I ask aloud, as much to myself as to Kyle.

He grunts and rubs his forehead. “That’s not what I’m saying.I’m—”

“And by that logic,” I say, the heat of sweat prickling my forehead and back. “Because my ex still pushes my buttons—because I’m not over someone who clearly fucked up my life, that means I’m fundamentally incapable of writing good romance?”

He grimaces at me. “How the hell did you come to that?”

The disgust on his face lingers, which only adds to the flame in my chest. Now on top of him thinking I can’t write romance because I’m broken, he thinks I’ve gone crazy.

I jump to my feet. “I need to leave,” I say. I pick up the books I brought and start making my way to the front door.

“Michael, no,” he says, standing and following me. “Let’s talk about this.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” I say back. He already thinks I can’t write romance because I’m single, and I know that I’ll never be able to do it because I can’t seem to let go of someone who treated me like shit. It all makes sense. In my resolution to never fall for unavailable men, I failed to realize that I still cling to David, the most unavailable man of all. No wonder my romance has been shit. It’s like I’m cursed. Kyle’s right. I’m fundamentally incapable of writing a good romance because I just can’t love healthily.

I open the door, but Kyle puts his hand on the door. I turn and find him towering over me, just like before.

“Stay,” he says. “Please.”

I just stare at him, lost in those brown eyes again.

“You are not ‘fundamentally incapable of writing good romance’,” he says. “I shouldn’t have said what I said. I’m sorry.”

I think about how close our lips were, how the touch of our noses sent me into the stratosphere.

But Kyle Weaver is straight. I can’t let myself develop feelings that he won’t be able to reciprocate. It’s best to leave now.

I thrust his copy of next week’s book into his belly. “Here,” I say.

He turns it upward, revealing the cover. “It’s a Cat Sebastian book about a gay couple in the fifties,” I say. “And I’ll send you an email of bullets from yesterday’s discussions since we didn’t talk about it.”

I move his arm blocking me and open the door again. I turn, and Kyle looks at me imploringly. God, he’s so handsome. I have to look away before I get second thoughts.

“I’ll see you next week,” I say. I step outside and shut the door. I don’t look back.

Chapter 14

Kyle Weaver

Idecidetoskipunofficial practice this week and take a red-eye home again to see my mama. I needed to get away from the city—away from anything and everything that reminds me of Michael. As I load my luggage into my rental, I go over all that I said to him, cringing the entire time.

I was a fool. A damn selfish one at that. I said I wanted to know what was bothering him, why he looked all sad in his latest video, but in reality it was just green jealousy. I wanted to know if that man screwing him was his boyfriend, and if not, if he had one. I didn’t like the idea of him being with another man. So I asked him, in a roundabout way, if he had one. And of course, that idea exploded in my face—him saying that he’s a failed writer because he doesn’t know love. And it’s all my fault.

By the time I reach my mama’s home, the Mississippi sky is bright, but my mind is dark and stormy.

Mama, tending to the garden, stands when I pull into the driveway. I roll down my window

“Now this is a mighty surprise,” she says as she’s approaching me. “What brings you home, boy?”

I tap the frame of the window. “I fucked up, ma.”

She sighs, not from exasperation I can tell but from understanding.