Page 59 of Should Our Stars Collide

Then the smell hits him. Grilled meat and greasy fries.

Kieran’s mouth waters against his will, stomach growling so loud the people at the beach could probably hear it. He hesitates at first—what if Ash left it there trying to lure him out like a rodent? Because Kieran has to say, it might work.

Sitting there for a few more minutes, he eventually swings his legs off the bed, stands, and pads to the door before he can talk himself out of it.

When he cracks it open, no one’s there. Just the paper bag without a label sitting neatly on the floor. He snatches it, closing the door as quietly as possible. He tears into the bag, finding a burger sitting on a bed of fries. No note.

Just food.

Just Ash, not giving up on him yet.

Kieran’s heart does a stupid little flutter thing.

God, he hates the guy.

He takes the burger out first, inspecting it. No matter how hungry he is, he’s not gonna put a fucking pickle in his mouth, let alone an onion.

The lack of either makes him pause. The burger is simple. Just a slab of meat with sauce spread on the bottom, then a slice of bacon topped with melted cheese. He gives it a taste, instantly recognizing his favorite BBQ and chipotle mayo combo.

This is how he always gets his burger. And Ash got it for him. Because Ashknows him.

He picks up a fry with a shaky hand and brings it to his mouth, an overload of salt bursting on his tongue. The exact way he likes it.

And Ash knows it.

Kieran really,reallyhates him.

After inhaling the food in under ten minutes, Kieran just sits there on the bed, surrounded by greasy trash. A contented sigh leaves him with a deep rumble.

He feels…good. His stomach is full, the hollow feeling gone. He really must’ve been quite hungry.

As he settles into a lazy sprawl, licking salt off his fingers, something else registers in his silly little brain. An awful, gnawing awareness of how easily it all happened.

He hadn’t checked the food. He’d checked for freaking onions and pickles, but didn’t think for even one second about whether it was safe before stuffing his face.

Like Ash handing him food is the most natural thing in the world, despite what happened at the pool earlier. Fuck.

He lets his head fall back against the wall. The thud is soft, dull, barely satisfying.

What is wrong with me?!

The second he asks the question, he feels the answer in his body. It travels through his veins, carves its way into his heart, and wedges itself deep, like a splinter.

I trust him.

Fuck. I trust him.

Not completely. Not willingly. Butenough.Enough to eat food he touched, to believe he wouldn’t hurt him. Even after what had happened today. Even when Kieran’s done nothing but shove him away. He trusts him enough for it to be dangerous.

It was the same yesterday—well, two years ago—at the pub. When Ash had pushed the glass of water towards him, Kieran’s first instinct was to reach for it. Take a long, grateful sip. No alarm bells ringing in his head, no muscles freezing in response to potential danger. He’d had toremindhimself to stay alert, to expect the worst.

That kind of trust isn’t logical. It’s not earned. It’s justthere.

And Kieran’s terrified to ask why.Because he knows, with an awful clarity, that he’s not ready for the answer.

14

Kieran might not be ready for the answer, but, unfortunately, his future self has no such reservations. People really are far harsher on themselves than anyone else, aren’t they?