Page 8 of Kings Don't Break

The Korine McKibbens.

The girl I haven’t seen in a decade yet have never stopped thinking about.

Distantly. Deep, deep in the recesses of my mind.

The only girl I’ve ever been nervous around. The only girl I’ve ever called my best friend. The only girl who… got away.

It’s like becoming a time traveler seeing her again. An onslaught of memories rush me. They’ve got me locking up and speechless as I suddenly feel seventeen again.

Our history runs that far back. Even further than that.

We were six years old the first time we met.

The McKibbenses moved in next door, and my world changed forever. I still thought girls were gross and had cooties, yet here was this cute little rowdy thing making me all sorts of confused—she climbed trees and played with her brother’s action figures. She raced all the boys—and even beat some of us—and she wasn’t afraid of a damn thing.

I hated her… ’til I realized I liked her. Then I realized I wanted her to like me.

We settled for friends. Good friends. Friends so close, at times Mace was jealous. Friends so close, eventually, as we grew older, things got too complicated too fast.

I’m so lost in memories, I have to force myself out of the past. I jerk and take a stilted step forward, then I stop again.

Korine’s staring back at me, eyes wide and questioning. She hasn’t budged an inch.

She hasn’t changed a bit—that’s almost more startling than seeing her again.

Korine’s always been the kind of girl that stands out without even trying. In high school, she was one of the prettiest girls. Never with a stitch of make up on. Damn sure with no heels or frilly fixings other girls dabbled in.

Korine, the tomboy with the pixie cut and faded t-shirts, was beautiful all on her own.

A decade later, that’s far from changed.

Every last detail about her is the same. Golden-brown skin blessed with a kiss from the sun itself. The earthy shade of her eyes and the fullness of her mouth. High cheek bones and a soft, diamond-shaped face.

Her hair’s currently a frizzy mess of chin-length curls, yet standing opposite her, I want nothing more than to dig my fingers into the tight tendrils and seal my lips over hers?—

I clear my throat and grip my belt buckle. “Kori,” I say hoarsely, like old times. “How the hell are you? It’s been a damn while!”

She blinks out of her shock, no other emotion on her beautiful, bare face. She’s dressed down, in a hoodie and some jeans that swallow up the slim, athletic figure of hers that I remember. Nothing really has changed.

Kori’s still a tomboy at her core.

“Hey, Blake,” she says softly. “I… I wasn’t expecting to see you… right now.”

“What are you doing in Pulsboro?! You come back to town, and you don’t hit me up?”

Her head bows to stare at the sneakers she wears. “It’s been a crazy couple weeks. We’re still getting settled.”

“You’ve moved back to town?!”

I should temper my reaction. Drain some of the enthusiasm from my voice and demand my heart stop beating so excitedly in my chest.

But I can’t help it—it’s second nature to have these reactions around Korine. After a decade spent apart, being around her for even a few seconds feels like old times again.

A familiarity I’ve missed. A sense of home that can be dangerous but addictive.

“Yeah, I have,” she answers after a tense pause. “We bought a house here.”

The spinning wheels and cogs in my brain come to an abrupt, lurching halt. I freeze up again, digesting her words, realizing their meanings. The excitement disappears from my mood and my skin warms despite the November chill.