Page 39 of Should Our Stars Collide

“What’s wrong? Are you feeling sick?” Ash asks, and fuck him formanaging to sound worried.

“It stinks in here.”

Ash snorts. “Of what?”

“You.”

He doesn’t have to look to know Ash is rolling his eyes. Even so, once the engine is on, Ash slides the window open for him and Kieran gratefully takes in a huge breath of fresh air.

“Feel free to let your head hang out.”

“I’m not a fucking dog,” Kieran grits out.

Ash hums, like he’s pondering it. “You’re right, you’re more like a cat. A pain in the ass.”

“Hey!” Kieran protests, though it’s not untrue. Both for cats and for him. Still, hearing it out loud kinda stings.

Ash laughs. “It’s not a bad thing, just part of their charm.”

“Charm?” Kieran repeats with disbelief. “What charm? I’m not charming.” What he is, though, is fed up with Ash making fun of him.

“Sure you are,” Ash doesn’t miss a beat. What’s strange is that he doesn’t sound particularly sarcastic. Teasing, yes, as is his habit. But not mocking. “Charming and sweet.”

“Excuse me?!” He takes it back—Ash is full of shit, no exceptions.

“What are you getting so worked up for? It’s true.” He goes on before Kieran gets a word in edgewise. “I bet that when someone finally earns your trust and you let them in, they’re gonna be on top of the world.” He winks. “Just like with cats.”

Feeling as though the temperature in the car has climbed by ten degrees, Kieran sputters something unintelligible. When it becomes clear he’s not going to come up with a semi-coherent response, he turns away, pretending to look out of the window while his heart hammers in his chest.

What. The. Fuck.

He hears Ash chuckle. It’s a warm, not unpleasant sound, and it messes with Kieran’s head. “Are you being shy?”

“Fuck you! I’m not shy,” Kieran spits out, huffing impatiently. “Can’t you just drive? We’ve been sitting here like idiots for god knowshow long.”

Something hard pokes his arm. “Put your address in.”

Reaching back without looking, he gets hold of Ash’s phone. “What, the faultless car doesn’t come with GPS?” The phone is already unlocked, so it’s only natural that Kieran’s attention goes to the background first.

He wasn’t sure what a guy like Ash would use for his background—maybe a pic of his stupid car, or his equally stupid face—but not this.

The photo is of four people, of whom Kieran recognizes three—Ash, Zeke, and Gabe. The woman in her late forties or early fifties standing between Ash and Gabe with her arms slung over their shoulders is unfamiliar, but he doesn’t need to be an expert in genetics to know she must be Gabe’s mum, or at least related to him some other way. The resemblance is uncanny.

And it makes sense, since it looks like they’re celebrating Gabe’s birthday. They’re all grinning from ear to ear, save for Gabe who’s pouting at the camera—probably because someone made him wear a conical birthday hat and gave him a whipped-cream beard to go with it. Despite his grumpy face, the photo is brimming with happiness and love. It causes a warm sensation to fill Kieran’s chest, before being replaced by something cold and hollow.

“Are you do—ah.” Ash looks over Kieran’s shoulder, giving his nose another blast of his scent. Kieran holds his breath. “That was Gabe’s 25th birthday.”

Blinking away his suddenly blurry vision, Kieran brings up the Maps app, punching in his address and handing the phone over to Ash.

“You didn’t have a beard back then,” he comments, and instantly wants to smack himself for it. What the fuck did he say that for?

“Yeah, well…” Securing the phone to the holder on the dashboard, Ash gives him an unnaturally wide smile. “That was before I realized it gets me laid easier.” He’s close enough for Kieran to headbutt him if he wanted—boy, does he want to—and it takes every ounce of his self-control not to do that.

“You’re a pig.” He doesn’t comment on the fact that he’d do the exact same thing if his facial hair was that cooperative.

“I’m just stating a fact.”

“Uh-huh.” Mumbling, he adds, “As if you need a beard to get laid.”